Unbowed

Olivia's POV;

"What's the meaning of this, Christopher?" I snapped, my voice cutting through the tense silence between us. My chest rose and fell as I tried to keep my composure, even though my pulse was racing. 

Christopher stood by his desk, his piercing gaze locked onto mine. His jaw clenched, the veins in his neck tightening as he fought to keep his anger in check. 

"Olivia," he said, his tone low and dangerous, "I'll ask you one more time—where are you coming from?" 

I held his gaze, refusing to back down. "Christopher, you're not my father, and you have no business knowing where I go or what I do. You have no right to ask me that." 

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw the shift in his expression. His anger, which had been barely contained, spilled over like a dam breaking. In a single motion, he slammed his hand against the desk, the sharp crack echoing through the room. 

"Olivia!" he thundered, his voice reverberating off the walls. "I have *every* right to ask you where you've been—I'm your boss!" 

His hands curled into tight fists, the knuckles turning white. The tension in the air was suffocating, but I refused to falter. 

"Bozo," I said, throwing the word at him like a challenge as I snapped my fingers in his direction, "you gave me an option. I made my choice, and I don't owe you an explanation." 

Christopher's eyes darkened, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. His lips pressed into a thin line as he took a step forward, towering over me. 

"Olivia!" he barked, his voice laced with frustration. "I brought you to this city! The life you're living now—all of it—is thanks to me. So, yes, I have *every right* to ask you where you've been!" 

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and humorless. "I owe you *nothing,* Christopher," I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest. "All those months I worked under you as your secretary? That was my *compensation* for you bringing me to the city. We're even." 

His face hardened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Fine," he said, his voice dropping to a cold, biting tone. "Even if you want to call that a compensation, what about the fact that I housed you? That I bought you—" 

I didn't let him finish. I stepped forward, cutting him off before he could throw more of his so-called generosity in my face. 

"You *housed* me, Christopher? And I *fed* you! Do you think I've spent even a dime of your money while living under your roof?" My voice rose with every word, my anger bubbling to the surface. "I've never taken *anything* from you. Feeding you with my own money is just another compensation for staying in your house!" 

His expression shifted for a moment, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his features. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. 

I turned on my heel, ready to leave the suffocating room, but his voice stopped me cold. 

"If you walk out that door," he said, his tone low and menacing, "just know you'll never get employed anywhere in this city again." 

I froze, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Slowly, I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing as I studied the man who dared to threaten me. 

"You really amuse me, Christopher," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What exactly do you want from me?" 

For a moment, he was silent. His lips parted, but no words came. The tension between us thickened, the air charged with unspoken emotions. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice softer now. "I want you, Olivia—" 

My breath hitched. My heart stuttered for a moment, and I felt a flicker of something—hope, maybe—rise in my chest. Did he finally see me? Did he finally— 

"I want you to apologize to Jessy," he continued, his tone hardening again. 

And just like that, the flicker died. 

I stared at him, my anger returning in full force. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I fought the urge to scream. "You think I'd waste my breath apologizing to someone I didn't even wrong?" I spat. "You can do whatever you want, Christopher. I don't care." 

Without waiting for his response, I turned and stormed out of the office. 

---

The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of the building's air conditioning the only sound. My heels clicked against the polished floor as I walked, my head held high. I could feel his gaze burning into my back, but I didn't look back. 

The moment I stepped outside, the cold morning air hit my face, and I let out a shaky breath. I had barely taken a step toward the parking lot when I saw her—Jessy. 

Of course. 

She was leaning casually against her car, her arms crossed and that ever-present smugness plastered across her face. Her perfect blonde hair gleamed under the sunlight, and her designer outfit looked like it had been plucked straight from a fashion magazine. 

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Ignoring her, I walked past, but she moved to block my path. 

"I heard you didn't apologize," she said, tilting her head to the side in mock curiosity. "You really think you can get away with that?" 

I stopped, my patience hanging by a thread. Slowly, I turned to face her, my eyes narrowing. "Jessy," I said, my voice calm but laced with venom, "get out of my way." 

She smirked, taking a step closer. "You're awfully bold for someone who's about to lose everything." 

I laughed, the sound sharp and cold. "Lose everything?" I repeated. "Jessy, I have nothing to lose. But you? You're terrified, aren't you? That's why you're always clinging to him like a desperate little leech." 

Her smirk faltered, and for a moment, I saw the cracks in her perfect facade. 

"Enjoy your little victory while it lasts," I said, stepping around her. "Because one day, Christopher will see you for who you really are." I said