Chapter 6 False Hope

A soft whimper escaped Olivia as a rush of warmth surged from within, soaking her underwear.

She couldn't believe she'd let something so mortifying happen in front of her husband's brother. And what was worse—she hadn't imagined her body could be this sensitive.

The scene before her was beyond humiliating.

What am I supposed to do now?

After what felt like an eternity, Olivia's eyelashes fluttered. As she lifted her gaze, she met Daniel's eyes, so close she could feel their intensity.

Daniel's presence was overwhelming. Perhaps it came from being raised in a mafia family, from carrying the natural dominance of a man born to rule. Or maybe it was simply because he was Daniel—head of the world's three most elite law firms, brilliant and terrifyingly composed.

His eyes were deep, like a starless night sky. His gaze was sharp and piercing, as if it could unravel a soul.

His hand still rested firmly on her waist. It was warm and strong, his knuckles digging faintly into her skin. For a moment, it felt like his grip had reached right down to her bones.

Olivia flinched as if scalded, scrambling awkwardly to her feet, pulling away from his grasp.

"I... I need to go... You should... get some rest too."

Her head bowed, avoiding his gaze, she stammered the words and fled toward the cabin, her silhouette darting away like a frightened animal.

Daniel didn't speak or do something to stop her. He turned to the empty doorway, his ears catching the frantic patter of her footsteps descending the stairs. Only when the sound faded did he slowly look away.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, his tall, lean frame stood alone in the chilly night, his gaze drifting to the vast, inky sea.

The night breeze carried a damp cold, but it did little to quell the heat still simmering within him.

Daniel glanced down at the prominent bulge in his trousers, the damp stain starkly visible.

A low chuckle escaped him.

The longer he suppressed his desires, the fiercer they roared when unleashed.

Tonight, Olivia had unwittingly pried open that floodgate. He knew a breach like that wasn't so easily sealed.

Daniel took a slow, steadying breath and turned to walk away. After just two steps, he suddenly stopped short.

On the dark deck lay a small, incongruous red heart.

He stared at it, his brows softening. Bending down, he picked it up.

The overly cute paper heart looked absurdly out of place in his strong, defined fingers.

On this yacht, only one person would craft something like this—Olivia.

Daniel's gaze softened as he studied the tiny trinket.

A faint smile curved his lips. He closed his fingers gently around the heart, cradling it in his palm, before striding into the cabin.

Olivia barreled down from the deck, her movements frantic, as if fleeing a predator.

When she escaped the weight of Daniel's overpowering presence, she slumped against a wall, clutching her chest, gasping for air.

That had been so embarrassing.

She smacked her own forehead twice in frustration. Then, amid the fog of panic, she felt a strange discomfort between her legs. Glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, she quickly lifted her skirt and looked down.

Her underwear was pushed inward, a deep, white hollow at the center, its round shape unmistakably molded by Daniel's form.

Good grief, it is huge.

No wonder she'd felt so incredibly full just now!

Blushing furiously, Olivia tugged the distorted underwear off her legs, adjusted her skirt, and pressed her cold hands to her burning cheeks. Once her body cooled, she slipped into the bedroom.

Shattered glass still littered the floor, the black liquid staining the gray-white carpet in a filthy smear. Scattered bits of charred yellow paper lay atop it, looking as wretched as she felt.

The room was exactly as she'd left it, and the sight dragged her mood lower.

From the bed came faint snores. Her real husband, Miles, lay there, sleeping soundly.

He hadn't cared about her feelings, hadn't considered her struggles, and hadn't even bothered to chase after her to offer comfort.

Olivia suddenly felt ridiculous.

Up on the deck, she'd thought she'd glimpsed hope, a chance for change. Now she saw it was all a delusion.

Those promises, that comfort—they were fleeting mirages, unreliable as imagination.

And now, she was just like Cinderella after midnight. The magic had vanished.

She had no kind prince and no sweet marriage—just a mess of broken dreams and a hopeless tomorrow.

With a soft sigh, Olivia began picking up the glass shards one by one.

Her movements were careful and deliberate. She knew if she got hurt, the pain would be hers alone—no one would care.

As she cleaned, Miles stirred once, rolling over in bed.

In a sleepy mumble, he said, "Keep it down."

A lump rose in Olivia's throat, her nose stinging.

She didn't know why she was even here.

Her family wasn't poor—nowhere near the Davis family's wealth, but she'd never suffered growing up. Before marriage, she'd never had to do tasks like this.

Yet now, it was as if these burdens were her duty.

Why should they be?

Her thoughts drifted back to Daniel.

With a surge of frustration, Olivia dumped the pile of glass she'd collected into the trash.

The clatter was loud and jarring. Miles sat up, frowning, just in time to catch her silhouette as she stormed out the door.

Olivia emerged from the bedroom, clutching a change of clothes.

She couldn't bear to share the same space as Miles right now—not even in the bedroom's bathroom.

She climbed the stairs to the yacht's second floor, heading for the public bathroom to freshen up.

The night wind had picked up. Even though they were anchored near the harbor, the waves were higher than they had been during the day. The yacht swayed beneath her feet, like walking across unstable sand.

The lights upstairs were still on, but Olivia didn't think much of it. Miles had always liked the whole yacht to be brightly lit. He never turned the lights off.

Gripping the bar counter for balance, she shuffled toward the bathroom, lost in thought.

She suddenly felt chilly. She didn't know whether it was the chill of the sea breeze or the creeping frost that had taken hold inside her chest.

Either way, Olivia craved a hot bath to envelop her, to drive away the icy dread.

Reaching the door, she grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

At once, a cloud of thick steam surged out like it had been waiting for release, wrapping her in its warmth. The scent of pine and body wash clung to the mist, wrapping around her face.

The heat clouded her vision, and for a moment, she was disoriented.

Before she could grasp the gravity of the situation, the mist cleared. A lean, captivating male form stood before her, utterly bare.

Olivia was stunned. The man in front of her wasn't her husband, Miles.