Chapter 7

(Olivia's POV)

The moment his lips crashed against mine, I knew exactly who had grabbed me. Ethan Stone. My mate. My tormentor.

My initial fear dissolved into icy determination. I shoved against his chest with all my strength.

"Ethan Stone, let me go... You have no right!" I hissed, struggling against his powerful grip.

His amber eyes flashed dangerously in the dim light of the SUV. The dominant Alpha aura poured from him in waves, suffocating the small space between us.

"No right?" he growled, his face inches from mine. "You're still my mate, Olivia. Or have you forgotten?"

I twisted away from him, pressing myself against the door. "We're done, Ethan. I made that clear."

His laugh was cruel, devoid of humor. "Is that why you're meeting Victoria? To discuss our relationship status?"

"She invited me," I spat. "To flaunt your clothes and the marks you left on her neck."

Ethan's jaw tightened. His hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.

"You have some nerve," he said, voice dangerously soft. "After what you did five years ago."

The accusation hit like a physical blow. "I didn't drug you! How many times do I have to say it?"

His eyes narrowed, disbelief etched across his handsome features. "Then explain how I ended up in your bed that night."

"I've explained it a thousand times," I said, exhaustion creeping into my voice. "You were already drugged when I found you."

Ethan's grip tightened painfully on my jaw. "And yet you took advantage."

I jerked my face away from his hand. "Victoria knows we're over. Why can't you accept it too? Or does my pain mean so little to you?"

Something flickered in his eyes – uncertainty, perhaps. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"You're playing the same game you played five years ago," he said coldly. "Acting innocent, pretending to be the victim."

My breath hitched, a familiar pain stabbing at my heart. The memory of that night rose unbidden – Ethan stumbling into my apartment, his eyes unfocused, his movements uncoordinated.

"I didn't drug you," I whispered, the words feeling hollow after years of repetition.

I remembered finding him outside my door, barely conscious. I could have left him there – should have, perhaps.

But I couldn't. My heart wouldn't let me.

I'd helped him inside, given him water, tried to sober him up. When he collapsed on my bed, I'd slept on the couch.

But morning brought accusations instead of gratitude. Victoria had somehow convinced him I'd drugged him, seduced him.

The truth didn't matter. It never had.

"What do you want, Ethan?" I asked, suddenly too tired to fight. "Why are you doing this?"

He scoffed, his expression hardening. "You're the one playing games, Olivia. Meeting Victoria, challenging my authority."

"I'm not playing—"

His phone rang, cutting me off. Victoria's name flashed on the screen.

Ethan hesitated, his eyes still locked with mine. The momentary distraction was all I needed.

I brought my knee up hard, connecting solidly with his groin. Ethan doubled over with a pained grunt, his grip loosening.

I scrambled for the door handle, pushing it open and tumbling out into the parking garage. My heart hammered against my ribs as I ran to my car, fumbling with the keys.

Once inside, I locked the doors, my hands shaking so badly I could barely start the engine. Tears blurred my vision as I reversed out of the parking spot, nearly hitting a concrete pillar.

I caught a glimpse of Ethan emerging from his SUV, his face contorted with rage and pain. Our eyes met briefly before I accelerated toward the exit.

The tires screeched against the concrete as I sped away. My breathing came in short, painful gasps.

Why couldn't he believe me? After all these years, the same accusation still haunted me.

I checked my rearview mirror, half expecting to see his black SUV in pursuit. Nothing. Just empty road behind me.

Relief washed over me, followed immediately by crushing sadness. How had we come to this?

Once, Ethan had looked at me with love. Now there was only suspicion and contempt.

I wiped away tears with a trembling hand. I needed to focus on driving, not on the shattered remains of our relationship.

The road blurred before me. I pulled over, unable to continue.

My phone buzzed with a text. I half expected it to be from Ethan, but it was Elder Willow checking if I'd made it home safely.

I sent a quick reply, not wanting her to worry. How could I explain what had just happened?

Taking several deep breaths, I composed myself. I couldn't fall apart now. Lily needed me to be strong.

The thought of my daughter steadied me. I would win that competition for her. Nothing else mattered.

With renewed determination, I pulled back onto the road. Ethan Stone would not break me again.

(Ethan's POV)

I watched Olivia's car speed away, the pain between my legs gradually subsiding. With deliberate calm, I walked to the Moonlight Café and took a seat by the window.

I pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease. The smoke curled upward as I took a long drag, obscuring my expression from curious onlookers.

My phone continued to ring. Victoria's name flashed persistently on the screen.

"What?" I answered finally, my voice deceptively casual.

"Ethan?" Victoria's concerned voice filled my ear. "Are you alright? You sound strange."

I took another drag, watching the street where Olivia had disappeared. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine," she pressed. "Where are you?"

"Moonlight Café," I replied, flicking ash into a nearby tray.

There was a pause on the other end. "Were you with her?" Victoria asked, her voice suddenly tight.

I didn't need to ask who she meant. "Why does it matter?"

Victoria's breath caught audibly. "You were, weren't you? With Olivia."

An hour ago, I'd sent Victoria home to Rosewood Haven. She'd been clingy, demanding, insisting I stay another night.

I'd refused coldly, needing space to think. My mind had been filled with conflicting thoughts about Olivia.

Now Victoria's voice trembled with barely concealed jealousy. "I'm sorry about the café, Ethan. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"Didn't you?" I asked, my voice hardening.

"No! I swear," she insisted. "I was just worried about Emmy. You know how sensitive she is about... changes."

I remained silent, taking another long drag from my cigarette. The bitter taste matched my mood.

Victoria always mentioned Emma when she wanted to manipulate me. The child had me wrapped around her little finger, and Victoria knew it.

"Ethan, please," Victoria continued, her voice softening to that vulnerable tone she knew I couldn't resist. "I just want what's best for Emma. For all of us."

I closed my eyes, the image of Olivia's defiant face still burning in my mind. The hurt in her emerald eyes haunted me.

"I know," I said finally, my voice softening despite myself. "We'll talk later."

I ended the call, staring at the empty street through the window. Something about Olivia's denial had seemed genuine.

The pain in her eyes when I mentioned that night five years ago felt too raw, too real to be faked.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Victoria had explained everything back then.

How Olivia had schemed to separate us, to trap me into a relationship. How she'd drugged my drink at that party.

Yet doubt crept in like an unwelcome guest. Could Victoria have lied?

No. She wouldn't do that to me.

"Sir? Would you like to order?" A waitress hovered nervously at my table.

I waved her away, crushing out my cigarette. The memory of Olivia's scent – wildflowers and rain – lingered in my nostrils, stirring something primal in my wolf.

Noah growled within me, confused by the conflicting emotions. He recognized our mate's scent, wanted to chase after her, claim her.

But Victoria's lavender perfume clung to my clothes, reminding me of my promises to her and Emma. The little girl who called me "Daddy" even though we shared no blood.

I lit another cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs. The burning sensation distracted me from the turmoil inside.

Olivia's face flashed in my mind again. The way she'd looked in the hospital, begging me to believe Lily was dead.

I'd refused to accept it. Our daughter couldn't be dead. Olivia was hiding her, punishing me for my closeness with Victoria.

But what if...?

No. I crushed the thought before it could fully form.

The café had grown quieter as afternoon stretched into evening. I sat alone, the empty cup before me a silent witness to my internal struggle.

After I finished the cigarette, I went back into my car again, heading for Victoria's place.