Shattered illusions

Chapter 3

Olivia’s resolute face turned back at her from three angles. Her jaw was clenched, heels rooted to the spot, and her phone was gripped in a white knuckled fist.

The silence screamed louder than any words could.

She had woken up feeling drained, the thought of faking it one more time, the smile, the scripted conversations, carefully managed emotions, making her feel physically ill.

So she did the unthinkable, she called in sick. It wasn’t like her day off, but something about the prospect of pretending to be okay had become unbearable.

Instead, she drove to the west side of town.

To a part of town that was a world away from her usual life.

The streets here were a far cry from the sleek skyscrapers and polished boutiques she was used to. The building was weathered, the sidewalks worn, and the age looked like they’d been around since the dawn of time. And yet, it was here, nestled between a pawnshop with its diverse array of second-hand treasures and a florist overflowing with colorful blooms, that she found Café Alma.

She hadn’t set foot there in sixteen years.

This place held a lot of memories for her: the laughter, the conversations, the quiet moments shared with Alex. Back then, she was Liv Matthews, a world away from the person she had become. Olivia Cole, polished and elegant, with Cassara’s expectations weighing on her shoulders. Before the carefully constructed lies and secrets.

She slipped in through the side door just like she used to when she was nineteen and trying to make a name for herself. Back then, she was working two jobs and living off dreams of a better life. The door was still the same, worn and unassuming, a familiar passage into a part of her past she thought she left behind.

The familiar scent of burnt espresso, old wood and cinnamon enveloped her for a moment, and she was transported back in time.

She ordered a coffee, her voice barely above a whisper, and they slid into the booth further from the window. Her heart was racing as she settled in, the past and present colliding in a rush of emotions.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

And then, he walked in.

Alex Turner.

He walked in, and she felt the air shift. Time had been generous to him, erasing none of the intensity that drew people in. The charcoal coat and black shirt were elegantly simple, yet people’s attention was on him. It was unbuttoned at the collar, a small detail that spoke of ease and confidence. His presence filled the room, and she felt it, every inch of it.

His eyes locked with hers the moment he stepped into the cafe, and he approached her slowly, like he knew she would be hesitant.

Olivia sat still, her posture perfect, her face a mask of calmness. But inside her, her heart was racing like wildfire.

Liv he said with a smirk, sliding into the booth across her.

It’s Olivia, she corrected, her voice cool.

He chuckled. Right, Olivia Cole, the ice queen of Wall Street. How could I possibly forget?

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing. Why are you here? She asked, her tone direct.

Alex leaned back, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips as he studied her. His eyes seemed to hold a secret, like he knew a joke she didn’t.

I missed the reunion, he said, his voice low and smooth. Thought I should check in.

Olivia’s expression remained skeptical. Cut the games, Alex, she said, her voice firm. What do you want?

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table slowly.

Olivia glanced down and froze.

It was her.

Seventeen. Standing outside a warehouse. Smiling. Next to Alex, Simon, and another man, Dean.

The memory of Dean’s face had been frozen in her mind for over a decade. The last image of him fixed in her brain, the look on his face as he was pulled away with handcuffs, stuffed into a police car.

Her stomach turned.

Alex said softly, I haven’t seen that picture in years, his eyes never leaving hers. Takes you back, doesn’t it?

Why now? she asked, her voice low. Why bring it up after all these years?

His expression turned somber because I’m tired of pretending none of it happened,” he said. “You may have buried it, but some of us live with the consequences.”

Olivia’s eyes flashed with anger. You think I don’t? She snapped.

Alex's expression was firm. You don’t. You escaped, you changed your name. You built an empire off clean lies while the rest of us were left to rot. Dean served time, and Simon fell apart.

Olivia’s gaze narrowed, her tone challenging. I did what? Started sending cryptic messages and staging events like some villain in a cheap thriller?

Alex's eyes darkened. “I want the truth with his voice, a low and deadly serious voice. Publicly.

Olivia laughed, but it was hollow. “You think I’m going to destroy everything I’ve built just to soothe your sense of injustice?”

“I think you already started unraveling,” Alex said. “And I think you know deep down, the past doesn’t stay buried forever.”

He leaned in, voice cold.

“And if you won’t tell the truth… I will.”

A beat of silence passed.

Olivia’s gaze locked on Alex, her eyes scouring his face for any glimpse of the boy she once knew. The one who held her through darkness and fear, offering comfort and reassurance. But the boy was gone, replaced by a man with a hardened jawline and eyes that burned deep-seated resentment and years of quiet fury.

She rose to her feet, her voice steady and detached. You do what you need to do, she said, her eyes meeting his with a cool challenge. But don’t forget, I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve changed. And I don’t break easily.

She turned and walked out, not looking back.

Back in her car, she collapsed into the seat and let herself breathe.

The photograph.

The message.

The appearance of Simon.

It was a deliberate strategy, each step precisely planned and executed.

And it meant one thing: someone was trying to pull her under.

Her grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled.

Alex didn’t know everything.

He couldn’t.

There were parts of her past that remained covered, hidden even from him. Secrets that could unravel it all, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

The truth, once revealed, would be the very foundations of her world. Her empire would come crashing down, her family would shatter into irreparable pieces, and she would be left with nothing.

That night, Olivia sat with her two children, Luca and Grace, listening to them spill out their day’s adventures joyfully. Grace spilled juice. Luca waved his breadstick like a magic wand. It was noisy and messy.

She smiled, but her mind was elsewhere.

Ethan was late.

Again.

He would phone with some flimsy excuse about a board meeting running overtime, but Olivia’s doubt was now on high alert. She didn’t buy it, not anymore.

He seemed different, his gaze drifting from hers as if pulled by an invisible thread. His protectiveness felt forced, like a role he was playing.

She pushed the thought away, one she tried to dismiss but couldn’t: was Ethan hiding something too?

The night air wrapped around her like a soft blanket as Olivia sat alone in the garden, the scent of jasmine heavy on the breeze. The silence was broken only by the quiet buzz of her phone.

Unknown Number:

You think the lies will hold forever? Tick-tock, Olivia.

She stared at the screen.

For a moment, her fingers lingered, then they moved with purpose, each touch precise and calculated.

If you’re trying to scare me, you’re wasting your time. I don’t respond to threats.

The reply came instantly.

Unknown Number:

Not a threat. Just a reminder. You owe the truth.

Olivia’s jaw clenched.

Olivia stood frozen, her gaze lost in the darkness, her reflection barely visible in the dark glass.

This wasn’t just about Alex. Or Simon. Or even Dean.

This was about the woman she used to be and the things she had done to stay alive.

Maybe survival meant being the one to tell the truth, before it was told by someone else