Chapter 3: GONE FOR BAD
McCarthy stood in the middle of Alexandria road, contemplating. He was barefoot, turning and pacing back and forth, desperately trying to locate Olivia. However, she was nowhere to be found.
His bodyguards, their ties bouncing on their bellies, hurried towards him—one from the right and the other from the left. McCarthy confronted them, his voice filled with frustration. "Where is she?" he demanded.
"I couldn't find her, Boss," one of them replied through gritted teeth, his hands clenched firmly behind his back. He knew the consequences that awaited him for failing his task.
"You're fired," McCarthy declared. This was precisely why 90% of his workers feared him, yet they were willing to work for him because he paid them more than double their normal salaries.
McCarthy turned to Gerald, his most intelligent bodyguard, hoping for better news this time. Gerald slipped his hands into his pockets, sighed, and spoke, exuding confidence in his response.
"She left just thirty minutes ago, and I don't think she could have gone far. I will continue searching until I find her."
A smile formed on McCarthy's face as he retrieved a folded white paper from his pocket and showed it to Gerald.
Handing it over, he instructed him, "Find her and deliver this message: she is still my wife.
I can track her down anywhere and make her suffer. If she wants to keep the devil at bay, she must sign it."
Once they all departed, a young boy cautiously pulled the curtains inside the coffee shop to check if the road was clear. He was Olivia's classmate and friend.
"Err, they're gone," he whispered.
Olivia took a deep breath, her heartbroken and weary. If the boy hadn't gathered the courage to rescue her from that strange man, she would have lost her bag. But did that even matter?
Her husband would have eventually found her. Although she hadn't signed the divorce documents, he still believed he held power over her, and unfortunately, he did. However, those documents hardly bothered Olivia; she considered herself divorced.
Now, her main concern was deciding her next move. If she stayed at the coffee shop for too long, McCarthy would eventually discover her whereabouts and possibly put the young guy, Martin, in danger.
"You seem lost. Do you need assistance?" Martin asked, trying to alleviate Olivia's distress.
"Yeah, I don't know where to go after leaving here. If I stay here for too long and he finds out, you'll be in trouble," she said, covering her face and bursting into tears.
Her vulnerability made her friend uneasy. He sat there, unsure whether he should offer her a comforting hug or say something consoling.
After careful consideration and employing all his romantic techniques, he handed her a tissue. "Thank you," she sniffled, using it to blow her nose.
"You'll need more than that," he remarked gently.
She paused her crying momentarily, nodded, and resumed sobbing. After a few seconds, she clutched her stomach and winced in pain.
Resting her head on the table, she took a deep breath and sat up again. Soon, her hunger became unbearable, even though she was not willing to eat.
Noticing her discomfort, Martin hurriedly entered the room and returned with a plate of rice, soup, and chicken. He had prepared it for himself but decided to sacrifice it to help a distressed girl.
"I'm not eating that. I mean, nothing at all," Olivia declared.
"Oh, I can see that you often deprive yourself. Your face looks incredibly pale," Martin observed, trying to persuade her.
"What does that mean?" Olivia asked between sobs, intermittently pausing her crying to ask questions.
"It means...you are...close to your grave," he replied politely, widening his eyes to emphasize his statement. Fortunately, it worked. Olivia was the kind of girl who craved comfort and care.
She swiftly pulled the tray closer and began devouring the food. Satisfied, she rested her head on the table and drifted off to sleep.
Martin sat there, watching her exhausted figure slumber like a child. He smiled and carried her to a more comfortable room before returning to sleep on the table himself.
The next morning, Martin handed Olivia a letter. Surprisingly, it was from her mother. Olivia was taken aback as she hadn't expected to receive any communication.
"Why did my mother give you this letter?" she asked curiously, holding the letter in her hands. After contemplating for a moment, she inquired, "Did you open it?"
"Yes, I did," Martin replied.
"Why?" Olivia pressed, curious about his actions.
"When she came in, I recognized her, but she didn't recognize me. She appeared distressed, as if something was deeply troubling her.
She took the letter out of her bag, wept over it, and handed it to me, asking me to dispose of it," he explained, addressing her first question.
"And why is it still here?" Olivia pondered, wondering if Martin still harbored feelings for her. In their high school days, they had been inseparable, their bond so strong that people often mistook them for a couple.
However, unbeknownst to Olivia, Martin had gradually developed unspoken affection for her.
Perhaps he was afraid to risk their friendship for love, or maybe he was waiting for the perfect moment. It's a common tale of how many men lose the ones they truly cherish. Nevertheless, at present, Martin's feelings remained uncertain.
"Because I saw your name on it. Everyone in this city knows you as Olivia Anderson, the wife of the illustrious billionaire and CEO of HomeBots and Automobiles. I couldn't fathom why your mother would disrespect that," he explained, providing a detailed rationale. He bowed his head and sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair, unable to meet Olivia's gaze. "I got a little curious and read... it. I apologize for that."
She sat there in silence, contemplating whether or not to read the letter, while Martin busied himself with preparing his shop for work.
"You should hurry and leave," he suggested.
Ignoring his advice, Olivia proceeded to read the letter.
"Dear Olivia Bellason,
This letter serves to inform you about our recent hardships. We reached out to you for help but received no response. This is the twentieth and final letter I am writing to you. Our company went bankrupt due to your father's illicit expenses, and as a result, we were forced to find another place to live. The government intends to auction our house to settle the mounting debts. Don't bother searching for me; I'm gone forever.
Your Lovely Mother."
After reading the contents of the letter, Olivia stood up and began packing her belongings to continue her journey.
"You really should go, Olivia," Martin repeated, this time pointing towards a group of men sprinting towards his coffee shop.
They all donned black suits and sunglasses.
"His bodyguards," he whispered.
"Use this entrance!" Martin offered, opening the back entrance for her to escape. He paid no mind to the jar that fell and shattered, saying, "I'll take care of that. Go to your Granny's."
Upon reaching the main road, she hailed a taxi and swiftly departed.
When the men arrived, three of them entered the coffee shop while the remaining seven stood at attention by the doorway. Their leader, Gerald, who had been tasked with finding Olivia, interrogated Martin.
"Have you happened to welcome this young woman here?" he inquired, presenting Olivia's photograph.
"No, I work and live here alone," Martin responded.
Gerald drew his gun and placed it on the same table where Olivia had slept earlier. Unfortunately, it made a distinct rustling sound. As he investigated the cause, he discovered Olivia's earring on the table, further fueling his fury. He aimed the gun at Martin and demanded, "I'll ask you one last time. Where is she?"
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone