Chapter 143

He didn't agree, but arguing with Chris now was a waste of breath. The way Kevin saw it, if being pretty guaranteed success, the world would be teeming with self-made millionaires. There was more to Stephanie Giovanni than a pretty face and a sharp tongue.

"Oh, by the way," Kevin added, attempting to change the subject, "did Stephanie ever tell you who actually owns Whispering Bay?" Chris had been trying to corner her for days, hoping to extract the truth. Except Stephanie never appeared. Everyone knew Chris planned to move Olivia to Whispering Bay for her recovery; the Harts were already packing her belongings.

Chris's chest tightened; his jaw clenched hard enough to crack a tooth. That damn woman. Kevin didn't need a reply—Chris's silence spoke volumes. Stephanie hadn't given him anything. That sharp tongue of hers could throw knives, but when it came to the truth? It was locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

All the way to the hospital, the same question echoed in Chris's head: why had she said yes back then? Sure, the Harts had pushed for it, but knowing what he knew now, she didn't seem the type to do anything unwillingly. By the time they reached the hospital, he still had no answer.

The moment Chris walked in, Olivia's face lit up like Christmas. "You're finally here." Chris gave her a quick nod. Catlin's smile followed closely behind. The second she saw Chris, her face brightened. She'd already heard—more than that—that he was buying Whispering Bay for Olivia. As far as Catlin was concerned, nothing else mattered. Who cared what the Ashfords thought? Chris's decision was all that counted.

"I'll leave you two," she said, slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Now it was just Chris and Olivia. She reached for his sleeve, her voice soft and sweet. "Something wrong?" Chris could tell that since promising her Whispering Bay, Olivia's mood had improved, and even her health seemed better.

And now? There was a real chance that deal wouldn't happen, but Chris couldn't bring himself to say it. "It's nothing," he said instead. "Did you eat?" He ran his hand through Olivia's hair, fingers brushing her soft curls. She seemed in a better mood lately, but he could still hear the weakness in her voice, as if each word required effort. And all he could think about was Stephanie—loud, sharp, full of life. Why couldn't Olivia possess that kind of strength?

"Chris? Chris?"

"Hm?" He snapped back, meeting Olivia's soft gaze. "I called you, like, three times. What were you thinking about?"

"Just work stuff," he lied. "What's up?"

"I was thinking… if we really move into Whispering Bay, can we change the curtains? I want sunflowers."

Chris's chest tightened; his brow twitched, but seeing how much it meant to her, he swallowed his feelings and forced a nod. Even though deep down, he knew Whispering Bay wasn't happening. They still had no idea who owned it. And even if they did, so what? Stephanie was living there. A few well-placed words, and that house would be off-limits for good.

"If I could just spend my last days at Whispering Bay," Olivia smiled faintly, "I'd die happy."

"Don't." The word shot out like a bullet, sharp and unfiltered. His voice shook.

"I mean it, Chris. And when it happens… don't send me to some cold, sterile crematorium. Bury me by the ocean." Her voice trembled. "I'm scared, Chris. I don't want to just… disappear."

"Get me somewhere facing the ocean, with trees, somewhere peaceful. Okay?"

"Enough. You're not dying. End of discussion."

The word 'death' hung between them, too heavy for either to bear. It used to feel distant, but now? It was in the room with them, every second of every day.

Before either could speak further, Chris's phone rang. It was Grace.

"Get back here. Now. Your dad's waiting." Her tone was clipped, leaving no room for argument. Fred had barely been involved since handing Chris the company, so if he was requesting a meeting—twice in one week—Chris didn't need a crystal ball to know it was bad news.

"I can't right now…"

"Chris," Grace interrupted, her voice like ice. "Don't make me spell it out. You know Olivia can't handle any more stress."

Chris glanced down at Olivia's hand, still wrapped around his sleeve. Her fingers were so thin, so pale. He gave in. "Fine, I'm coming."

He hung up, looking down at Olivia. She slowly released his sleeve, offering a soft, small smile. "Go. It's okay."

But they both knew—when Grace was angry, nobody walked away unscathed. And right now, Olivia was too fragile to take another blow.