Chapter 8
Olivia stood motionless, staring at the ashes.
“I told you to apologize!” Jack’s voice was cold, sharp.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Olivia’s eyes didn’t leave his. Her voice was steady, biting out every word. “She burned my mother’s photo.”
“It was just a picture!” His jaw tensed, frustration flaring in his eyes. “And that gives you the right to start a fight?”
“Just a picture?” She let out a breathless laugh, her eyes rimmed with tears. “That was the last thing my mother ever left me. The only thing.”
He froze. Before he could speak, Emily let out a sob and clung to his sleeve.
“I didn’t mean to… I swear, I didn’t,” she whimpered. “Even if Olivia doesn’t like me, how could she say something like that?”
Jack’s frown deepened. His patience snapped.
“I thought maybe you’d finally grown up during the flood mission,” he said coldly. “But clearly, you haven’t learned a damn thing.”
He pointed toward the yard, where the rain hadn’t stopped since morning. “Go stand outside. Stay there until you’re ready to apologize.”
Emily put on her best concerned voice. “She’s too proud, Jack. You know she won’t say sorry. In this weather, she could get sick-”
“She can stand there all day for all I care.”
Olivia gave a dry chuckle.
Of course. No matter what, he always chose to believe Emily.
Without another word, she turned and walked out the door. She didn’t even bother grabbing her coat.
Behind her, she heard Jack scoop Emily up in his arms, heard him whisper gently, “Does it hurt?” Then the sound of his footsteps retreating.
Rain slammed against her face, mixing with tears until she couldn’t tell which was which.
The storm didn’t let up–for an entire day and night, the rain poured endlessly.
Olivia stood stiff as stone, soaked to the skin, her clothes clinging to her like a second, frozen layer.
“Miss Hart!”
A familiar voice cut through the rain.
“But you’re his daughter…”
“His daughter?” Olivia’s voice was barely a whisper, bitter and calm. “The day he brought that woman and her daughter into our house, I stopped being his anything. These days, he’s too busy playing daddy to someone else’s child.”
Olivia’s gaze drifted toward the wall, where a little wildflower bent beneath the wind and rain–flimsy, but still holding on.
And I’ll make damn sure I live better than any of them.”
Back in her dorm, she changed out of the drenched clothes, picked up the suitcase she’d already packed days ago, and headed out,
At the front gate, one of the young soldiers standing watch looked up in surprise.
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