I stare at myself in the mirror, rehearsing the symptoms I've researched all night. Morning sickness. Fatigue. Sensitivity to smells. The lies feel heavy on my tongue, but I have no choice. Maxwell's 48-hour ultimatum looms over me like a dark cloud.
The morning light streams through the penthouse windows as I walk into the kitchen. Oliver stands at the counter, his usual morning coffee brewing. The aroma hits me, and I seize the moment.
"Oh god," I mutter, pressing my hand to my mouth. I rush to the sink, making retching sounds that I hope sound convincing.
Oliver is beside me in an instant, his hand warm on my back. "Olivia? Are you alright?"
I straighten up slowly, watching his reflection in the window. His face shows concern, but there's something else in his eyes I can't quite rea
