Mad Boy Next Door

Chapter Three

OLIVIA'S POV

Four years and two months had passed since I married Michael Dwayne, who was now my ex-husband.

Luck seemed to be on my side the night I met Michael at a bar in Manhattan. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive to have caught the attention of a hotshot American bachelor with piercing blue eyes, a six-pack stomach, and broad shoulders.

Our encounters began as casual hookups, but things quickly escalated to a level I never expected. Michael asked me out on a proper date, one that didn't involve spending the night in a hotel room.

The way he proposed to me was unexpected and mind-blowing, leaving my best friend, Selene, to believe I had lost my mind when I narrated the event to her.

In the presence of a cheering crowd, Michael got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Overwhelmed with joy, I was left speechless, my tear-stained face saying it all.

That night, sleep eluded me completely. I had everything a woman could ever need at the age of three - my own house, shares, and numerous properties left to me by my late father, who cherished me dearly, even though I had no memories of him.

My father also entrusted the Morrison Group to me, appointing his best friend, Mr. Mathews, as the interim President until I came of age. As soon as I graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Business Administration, I took over the company.

Mr. Mathews, loyal to my father, now served as the Vice President, running the company in my absence.

I was often told that I was born with a silver spoon, destined to become the President of the company long before I was born.

Yet, despite having almost everything, there was one predicament in my seemingly perfect life - finding a man I could trust with my heart. I yearned to be loved for who I am, not as a billionaire president or the heir to my father's fortune.

I believed I had found true love with Michael Dwayne, only to discover that real love doesn't always last forever. It was a truth too difficult for me to accept.

My happily ever after turned into heartbreak, shattering my self-esteem and taking a toll on my unborn child. Now, even my sanity was at risk.

I knew the universe was testing me once again, perhaps overestimating my strength and willpower.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I stared at the reflection of the person I believed to be a baby murderer - myself. I shouldn't have been saved by that tattooed boy.

"You don't deserve to live, Olivia. You killed a person. Your baby. You murdered your innocent baby," my mind taunted.

My gaze shifted to the spot where I usually kept the toilet bleach. To my surprise, the container was missing. Instead, I found it on the floor, uncapped, with most of its contents spilled onto the tiles.

Nausea washed over me, and I couldn't hold back anymore. I vomited the remnants of the burger I had forced down earlier, solely to get through the day, not because I had any appetite.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I splashed cool water on my face. The bitter taste lingered in my throat, refusing to dissipate or provide any relief.

Today wasn't the right day to die, it seemed. But eventually, I would have to face the consequences of my actions. The torture I was enduring had become unbearable. My mind whispered, urging me to end my misery.

I sat on the cold tiles, pulling my knees together, realizing that my world had crumbled long ago. I was no longer a living soul, but an empty shell filled with bitterness, hurt, spite, and regret. And, yes, a fair amount of self-loathing.

I no longer wanted to breathe. I couldn't bear to live this life any longer.

The doorbell rang incessantly, its sound infuriating me. I didn't want to be bothered by anyone, especially not when I was in such a state of despair. With each ring, my anger intensified, fueling the already raging storm inside me.

Finally, unable to ignore it any longer, I decided to answer the door. I stood up from the bathroom floor, the cold tiles sending a shiver through my body, and made my way to the front door. I braced myself for whatever nuisance awaited me on the other side.

Opening the door, I was met with my neighbor, Julian standing there with a mischievous grin on his face. Same pair of striking green eyes that seemed to pierce through me.

"Hey there," he said casually, as if he had every right to disturb me. "I hope you weren't trying to avoid me. Are you alone, or is your husband in there?"

I stared at him, taken aback by his audacity. Who did he think he was, invading my privacy and talking about things he had no business knowing? My instinct was to shut the door in his face, but something about his demeanor made me hesitate.