My Lovely Soul

The First Test

The morning after her bargain with John, Olivia woke with the weight of a thousand questions pressing on her chest. Had she lost her mind? Agreeing to partner with John Blackwood was like putting her soul on a chessboard and waiting for him to make the first move. But when she glanced at the folder he’d given her—the photos, the receipts, the damning evidence of Daniel and Lydia’s betrayal—her resolve hardened. No, she hadn’t lost her mind. She had found her weapon. And she was going to learn how to use it. By noon, a sleek black car arrived outside her family’s home. The driver said nothing, only tipped his hat before opening the back door. Inside, John waited, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, his expression unreadable. “You came,” he said, as though there had been no doubt. “I said I would,” Olivia replied, sliding into the seat. He studied her for a long moment. “Good. Because today, you take your first step.” Her pulse quickened. “First step into what?” John’s lips curved in a faint smirk. “Into my world.” The car pulled up outside a luxury hotel downtown, the kind that oozed wealth from its golden doors and glass chandeliers. John led her inside without hesitation, his presence commanding enough to part the crowd without a word. Olivia trailed behind, nerves gnawing at her stomach. “Why are we here?” “Because Daniel and Lydia are here,” John said smoothly. “Lunch. Private room. I made sure of it.” Her heart stuttered. “What?” He stopped, turning to her with that piercing gaze that left no room for argument. “You want revenge, Olivia? Then you need to stop hiding from them. You face them. You take back control.” Her throat went dry. “But I’m not ready.” John stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’ll never feel ready. Power doesn’t wait for permission—you seize it. Right here, right now.” Olivia’s breath trembled. The thought of seeing them again—together, flaunting what they’d stolen from her—made her chest ache. But beneath the pain was fire. Rage. And John was right. She couldn’t spend her life running. She lifted her chin. “Fine. Let’s do it.” The maître d’ led them to the private dining area. Olivia’s palms dampened as they approached the frosted glass doors. She could already hear faint laughter—Lydia’s shrill giggle and Daniel’s low murmur. Her stomach turned. John glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Remember, Olivia. They think they broke you. Prove them wrong. You don’t beg. You don’t cry. You dominate.” She swallowed hard and nodded. John pushed open the doors. Daniel and Lydia froze mid-laugh when they saw them. Lydia’s fork clattered against her plate, while Daniel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Olivia?” Daniel rose to his feet, shock flashing across his face. “What are you doing here?” Olivia stepped inside, John a solid shadow beside her. Her heart pounded, but she forced her voice steady. “I came to congratulate you,” she said coldly. Lydia blinked, then burst into mocking laughter. “Congratulate us? Really, Olivia? How generous of you.” Daniel frowned. “This isn’t the place—” “Oh, but it is,” John cut in smoothly, his voice sharp enough to silence the room. “After all, isn’t this where truth belongs? Out in the open?” Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Stay out of this, John.” John smirked. “If only I could.” Olivia’s gaze locked on Lydia, who smirked like a cat playing with its prey. “You must be so humiliated,” Lydia purred. “Watching us together must kill you.” Okivi6’s stomach churned, but she forced a smile, brittle but steady. “No. What kills me is realizing I wasted so much love on people so small. Daniel betrayed me, yes. But you, Lydia—you betrayed yourself. Because no matter how hard you try, you’ll always be living in my shadow.” Lydia’s smirk faltered. “What shadow?” Olivia leaned forward, her voice sharp. “The shadow of the woman he’ll never stop comparing you to.” Daniel flinched, his face paling. Lydia’s hand tightened on his arm. John’s lips curved slightly, his eyes gleaming with approval. Victory briefly blazed sweetly in Olivia's chest. However, Lydia's eyes darkened and flashed venom. “You think you’ve won something, Olivia?” she spat. “No. You’re pathetic. Clinging to this—this man,” she gestured toward John, “as if he’ll save you. But everyone knows John Blackwood doesn’t save anyone. He uses them.” Olivia froze. Her heart thudded painfully. John’s expression didn’t change, but the air in the room thickened with danger. Daniel tugged at Lydia’s arm. “Lydia, stop.” But Lydia sneered. “No. Let her hear the truth. You’re nothing now, Olivia. Nothing but a pity date with a bitter ex. The words were deeply hurtful. Olivia briefly experienced the old pain, the humiliation threatening to rip through her armor. Then she recalled John saying, "You don't beg." You don't weep. You dominate. She straightened her spine. Her voice rang out like steel. “You’re wrong, Lydia. I was nothing. But now? Now I have something you’ll never have.” Lydia scoffed. “And what’s that?” Olivia glanced at John, then back at them, her lips curving into a sharp smile. “Power.”Silence fell. Daniel’s brows furrowed, and Lydia’s smirk faltered. John chuckled, low and dangerous. “Well said.” He placed a hand at the small of Olivia’s back, guiding her toward the door. But his eyes were as cold as ice as he turned to face Daniel and Lydia before he left. “Enjoy your lunch,” he said smoothly. “It might be the last peaceful meal you’ll have.”And with that, they walked out.The moment the doors closed behind them, Olivia’s knees weakened. She sucked in a shaky breath, pressing a hand against her chest.John’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and unreadable. “You did well.”Her lips trembled. “I thought I’d fall apart.”“But you didn’t,” he said simply. “That’s the difference.”She looked up at him, frustration and confusion swirling in her chest. “Why are you helping me, John? Really? What do you get out of this?”He studied her for a long moment, his silence heavy. Then he leaned closer, his voice a whisper that brushed against her skin.“You’ll find out soon enough.”A shiver ran down her spine.That night, Olivia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her emotions churned—anger, fear, pride, and something else she couldn’t name.John Blackwood was dangerous. Lydia was right about that.But he had also given her something Daniel and Lydia had stolen—her voice. Her strength.And for that, she couldn’t walk away.Even if it meant selling her soul to the devil.