bChapter 149 /b

OLIVIA’S POV

My father’s voice filled the room, calm but stern. “Thest time I spoke to you all, your mother sounded fine. There were no bruises bon /bher body bor /bbyours/b. We agreed that you’d being to Mexico, and I would pick you both up. Then out of nowhere, I receive a call and see all of this? Oliviab, /bJulianb, /bbI /bbneed /bban /bexnation. Now.”

The room went still, and even the sound of the maids clearing the dishes had faded into silence. I looked at Julian, unsure of where bto /bbegin. He cleared his throat, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the dining table.

“There’s a lot that happened in the past three days,” Julian began, his voice steady but clearly strained. “And to be honest, we’re lucky to even be here at this table. But I’ll tell you everything. I’ll start from the beginning.”

He gave me a quick nce, a silent cue to brace myself. Damian, who had been quietly sipping juice suddenly leaned forward, interested now more bthan /b

ever.

Julian continued, “It started the moment Olivia decided to go back and inform her ex–husband that she was carrying his child. She felt he had a right bto /bknow…”

“But things didn’t go as nned,” I cut in, my voice softer than I expected. “He wasn’t who I thought he’d be. I didn’t even get the words out. Everything about the visit felt wrong, so I left his house that day. For good.”

Julian nodded and picked up from there. “She came to my ce upset, but determined to leave the country. We decided that was the best thing bfor /bbher /band the baby. We were packing, nning… and then it happened.”

He paused. bI /bcould see him reliving the memory. The part that still haunted both of us.

“That night,” he continued, “armed men broke into the house. Not just a robbery. These guys were professionals. Cold. Calcted. They took out all the security guards without hesitation. We tried calling the police, but they never arrived on time.”

“They didn’t even get close,” I added, the memory suddenly tightening my bc /b

chest.

Julian went on. “They found us. Tied us up. I thought we were going to die right there in the living room. But thenb… /bthen they did something none of us expected.”

“They nted bombs,” I said quietly.

The word hung in the air.

“What?” Damian choked, nearly spilling the drink in his hand.

My father’s eyes sharpened. He leaned forward, fingers steepled under his chinb, /bpletely focused. “Go on.”

“Thankfully,” Julian said, “we managed to get out just before the explosion. It was close. Too close.”

“The st went off,” I said, finishing his thought. “And the shockwave… it hit us. Hard. That’s what left the bruises. That’s how Mom got injured. bWe /bbwere /bthrown against the ground, and ss shattered everywhere. We were lucky to be alive.”

Julian nodded solemnly. “The entire house is gone. Nothing left but rubbleb.” /b

bMy /bfather exhaled deeply, then leaned back into his chair. His expression hadn’t changed, but I knew him well enough bto /bbsee /bbthe /bbquiet /bbstorm /bbbrewing /bbeneath the surface.

b“/bThat’s ball /bthat happened?” he asked.

bI /bnoddedb, /bslowly.

b1/3 /b

b“And /bwho sent the men?” he asked, though I was sure he already knew.

I hesitated. My throat felt dry, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. I knew the second I said it out loud, there would be no taking it back.

b“/bIt was my ex–husband,” I said softly.

There was ba /bthick silence.

My father’s expression remained unreadable, but the fire in his eyes said it all. Something in the room shifted.

“What is this young man’s name?” my father asked, his voice almost too calm–controlled, like the stillness of water right before a raging storm.

I hesitated for just a second, but there was no point lying or sugarcoating it now. “Adrian Westwood,” I said quietly.

The moment his name left my mouth, the air in the room seemed to shift. My father didn’t reply right away. Instead, with a swift flick of his fingersb, /bone of the suited butlers came running in, already clutching a ck tablet as if he had anticipated themand.

My father took it without a word and began scrolling, his fingers swift, his eyes scanning the screen with clean precision. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as I watched him search Adrian’s name. The room was silent except for the soft swipes of his finger on the screen.

“It says here that he’s a billionaire businessman,” my father began, his voice level. “Founder of Westwood Industries. I’ve heard of thatpany before.”

That calm tone… it scared me more than if he’d shouted.

“Honey, don’t do this,” my mom’s voice cut in, firm butced with concern. A chill went down my spine. She wasn’t just trying to calm him. She was warning him.

And if she was worried… then I needed to be, too. Because my mom knew my dad better than anyone else in the world. If she was trying to pull him back, then this wasn’t the first time she had seen him ilike /ithis–calm, calcting, dangerous.

“Don’t do what?” my dad replied, still not looking at her. “This man–Adrian Westwood–sent men to kill you. To kill my only son. My only daughter. And…” His eyes flicked to me and then slowly dropped to my stomach. “…my grandchild.”

His words mmed into me harder than I expected. My arms wrapped around my belly, as if to shield the life growing inside me from the fury that now bled into my father’s voice.

“And not only that,” he went on, “he blew up a multi–billion dor mansion. A mansion my father built. A home that was meant to stay in our family for generations. I passed it to Julian, who would one day pass it to his son.”

His voice was louder now. Each word carried weight, authority, and a terrifying edge.

“I iknow/ii,/ii” /imy mom said softly. i“/iBut we’re here. We’re alive. We’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“Safe?” my dad snapped, turning toward her inow/i, hisposure cracking just enough to show bthe /bfury bubbling underneath. b“/bWhat bif /bsomething had happened to you? To Julian? To Oliver? I only just got Olivia back. Seeing her again is the best thing that’s happened to me in years and that young man tried to rip that away from me again!”

I looked down at my hands in myp, shame and fear twisting inside me. I hadn’t wanted things to end up like this.

iMy /idad took a breath and straightened, his voice lowering again but no less firm. “He made one fatal mistake,” he said. “Maybe it’s because his not from Mexico but the ke family does not get stepped on anywhere.”

“He should’ve thought twice. Because no one tries to hurt the ke family and walks away unscathed.”

bThe /broom went quiet againb, /bthe weight of his words settling on everyone like heavy dust: