The General's Replacement Doctor Wife

Chapter 7

“I… I thought you….” She couldn't finish her words after seeing Mrs. Hilton's face harden into stone.

"We've discussed this, Olivia. You're going to study medicine and become a doctor. Caroline always wanted to be a doctor."

There it was. Caroline. Always Caroline.

"I'm not Caroline… She's dead," Olivia muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Mrs. Hilton's eyes narrowed.

"I said I'm not Caroline!" The words burst out louder than she intended. "I'm not her! I'll never be her! I don't want to be a doctor!”

Slap!

Mrs. Hilton's hand across her face silenced her. Olivia's cheek burned, but the pain in her heart was worse.

"How dare you?" Mrs. Hilton's voice rose several octaves. "After everything we've done for you? Taking you from that godforsaken orphanage, giving you our name, the best education money could buy?"

Olivia touched her stinging cheek. Just like that, her dreams of going to Paris vanished in an instant.

"We didn't save you from that place so you could waste your life drawing pictures! You will go to medical school. That's the only choice I can give you!”

"And… if I don't?"

"Don't be naive, Olivia. Where else would you go? Who else would want you?”

The words were precisely aimed at Olivia's deepest insecurities. She couldn't say a word. Couldn't even move.

Mrs. Hilton walked to the door. "Get dressed. We're going to Cordova Medical School to get you enrolled. Be thankful you have this opportunity; don't waste it.” Before the door closed, her mother spoke one last time. "And throw away those ridiculous acceptance letters. You can't have them anyway.”

With that, the door closed, along with her only opportunity to become a great painter.

—

Olivia's quick acceptance to Cordova Medical University came as no surprise. Her perfect grades and glowing recommendations made her a shoo-in. The Dean practically beamed when he saw her, especially after knowing she was the one and only daughter of the Hilton family.

"I'm so relieved you've finally come to your senses," her adoptive mother said during the drive home. She was seated in the passenger seat while Mr. Hilton, as silent as an ornament, drove the car.

"This silly dream of becoming a painter—honestly, Olivia, what were you thinking?” Mrs. Hilton let out a laugh while rolling her eyes. “Caroline would never even think of doing something like that. She’s a bright girl who knew exactly what she wanted to be from the start.”

Olivia clenched and unclenched her fists at the backseat. She let the words enter one ear and exit the other while making sketches in her mind. It worked every time.

The moment the car pulled in front of the Hilton Mansion, Olivia immediately jumped out of the car. But then she froze, seeing thick black smoke coming from the side of the house.

Her heart stopped beating when she saw her expensive art supplies, her paintings, her sketches, everything related to her art swallowed by flames.

She ran toward the fire, reaching for the canvas that had taken her 48 hours to make, the one she created until her wrist hurt. But the corner broke off in her fingers.

"I ordered the servants to get rid of all your art supplies and paintings," Mrs. Hilton's cold voice came from behind. "You won't need these anymore. Medical school requires full attention. No more wasting time with silly drawings."

The fire consumed everything. Her expensive oil paints she had saved for months to buy, the special brushes she'd ordered from art catalogs, even the charcoal set she received from an anonymous sender on her 17th birthday. All of it turned to ash before her eyes.

Mrs. Hilton walked past the burning pile like it was nothing more than garbage. She hummed a happy tune as she made her way inside.

Olivia fell to her knees in front of the fire. She didn't cry when she was slapped hard on the cheek, but watching her years of hard work reduce to a pile of ash made her burst into tears.

—

Olivia curled up on the headboard, her eyes swollen from hours of crying. She looked up when she heard a knock. Shortly after, Martha, the housekeeper, entered carrying a white rectangular box with a familiar logo of a famous boutique.

The housekeeper informed her that it was a dress she had to wear tonight.

Olivia almost forgot she had to make an appearance at her future husband's post-graduation party. Clayton Bradford had just obtained his Bachelor’s Degree in Business Management—his father's prerequisite before allowing him to enlist in the military.

“Leave it on the couch, Martha.”

When the housekeeper left, Olivia got up, wiping the tears from her cheeks until they were completely dry. She opened the box and found an exquisite dress in her favorite shade, mauve.

She thought about the party, the noise, and the drinks that would follow, and realized how badly she needed them tonight to drown out her pain.