CHAPTER 161: CHAPTER 161

Olivia’s POV

"Did you really think I wouldn’t check up on you after what happened?"

"I..." I started to respond, but he was already pulling away from the curb, driving in the opposite direction of my apartment.

"Wait, where are we going? My apartment is..."

"I know where your apartment is," he said. "But we need to talk first. And I’d rather not do it in front of your building where anyone could see."

He drove for a few minutes, until we reached a quiet, tree-lined street with no traffic and few streetlights. He pulled over and put the car in park, but kept the engine running.

Then he turned slightly in his seat - not enough for me to see his face, but enough that I knew he was looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Why did you do that?" His voice was low, intense. "You scared the life out of me today, Livy."

"How did you know what happened?" I asked, my voice filled with frustration. "How do you always know everything? Were you in the building? Did someone tell you? Did you..."

"It doesn’t matter how I knew," he interrupted. "What matters is that you nearly killed yourself. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn’t thinking!" The words burst out of me. "I was angry at my stupid boss and his stupid games and his stupid..."

I cut myself off, pressing my lips together before I said too much, before I blurted out, his stupid kisses.

There was a long silence. Then: "Your boss."

"Yes. My boss. Who is an absolute nightmare to work for..." then I stopped short, a beautiful idea creeping into my mind. "You know what, I want you to beat him up again."

"What? What did he do this time?" He sounded almost amused.

"Nothing new," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Just his usual games of making me go completely insane. Making me climb on furniture, breaking things, getting electrocuted..."

"He didn’t make you get electrocuted," the stranger pointed out. "He told you to stop."

"Whose side are you on?!" I demanded. "And how the hell did you even know!"

"I’m on your side. Always. How I know it’s really not important. I’m just trying to understand why you’d risk your life over a light bulb."

I was quiet for a moment, my anger simmering. Then I leaned forward, a mischievous smile on my face.

"But I got him fair and square yesterday." I admitted, still smiling. "Want to know what I did to him?"

He laughed. "What did you do, Livy?"

"I exchanged his drinking water with toilet water."

Complete silence.

Then: "WHAT?"

I burst into laughter - a devilish laughter that probably made me sound unhinged. "You should have seen him! He was running to the bathroom all day, changing suits like crazy. He ended up living in his toilet. It was glorious."

More silence from the front seat.

"So let me get this straight," he said slowly.

"You gave your boss toilet water to drink?"

"He deserved it!" I defended. "He’s been torturing me for weeks! This was payback!"

"Livy." His voice was filled with disappointment. "That’s... that’s actually insane."

I bristled. "What do you mean ’insane’? It was revenge! He made me wash his spotless bathroom all morning."

"What if the contaminated water had killed him."

"Are you serious right now?" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. "Since when do you care about my boss? He made me clean his bathroom! He made me climb on furniture to fix a light bulb! He humiliates me constantly! And then, when I actually get hurt, when I nearly die, he doesn’t even bother to come check on me! You should be mad at him!"

There was a brief silence.

"Is that what this is about?" His voice was softer now. "You want me to beat him up because he didn’t visit you in the hospital?"

The truth of his words hit me like a slap, and I hated - absolutely hated - that he was right.

"No!" I protested, but even I could hear how weak it sounded. "It’s not about that! It’s about... about everything! About how he treats me like I’m nothing, like I don’t matter, like I’m just some disposable assistant he can torture for his own amusement!"

"Livy..."

"And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I actually thought for a second that maybe he cared. When he caught me the first time I fell, I thought he might actually be good."

"Alright. I understand why you would be angry. But you should at least let him recover from what you did to him yesterday," the stranger said, and I could hear exhaustion in his voice, "before you ask me to beat him up today."

"Oh, so NOW you’re worried about him!" I exploded. "Since when did you start caring about Maxwell? He’s the one who got me into this painful situation in the first place! He made me climb up there! He refused to call maintenance! And then, when I nearly died, he didn’t even bother to come check on me! He just left! So excuse me if I don’t care about his recovery from drinking toilet water!"

"That’s not..."

"You know what? Forget it!" I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. "Clearly you’re on his side now. Clearly I’m the problem. Clearly everything is my fault!"

"Livy, that’s not what I..."

"Thanks for the ride!" I shouted, climbing out of the cab. "Next time, maybe just let me take a real taxi instead of kidnapping me to lecture me about how I should treat my boss!"

I slammed the door with all the force I could muster, the sound echoing through the quiet street.

Then I stood there on the sidewalk, arms crossed, waiting.

He’ll call me back. He’ll tell me to get back in the car, I’ll pretend to refuse at first, and then he’ll say something sweet and I’ll give in and...

The engine revved.

And then he drove away.

Just... drove away.

I stood there, frozen in shock, watching his taillights disappear around the corner.

"Wait!" I called out, but he was already gone.

"Come back! I didn’t mean..."

Silence.

I was alone on a dark street, still sore from being electrocuted, miles from my apartment, with no way to get home.

"What the hell just happened?" I said to the empty air.

My stranger, my mysterious guardian angel, had just left me.

Actually left me.

Because you yelled at him. Because you demanded he beat up someone who’s probably suffering enough already. Because you acted like a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum.

"Shit," I whispered, pulling out my phone. "Shit, shit, shit."

I had no way to call him back. I couldn’t call the number he texts me with. Shit.

I looked around the deserted street, trying to figure out where I even was. A few blocks from my apartment, maybe? I could walk, but my body was still aching and weak.

This is what you get for being dramatic. This is what you get for pushing people away.

With a heavy sigh, I started walking in what I hoped was the direction of home, as I became filled with regret.