Romans & histoires Olivia Baker

But her eyes still striking, still stormy searched Emma’s with something unfamiliar. “Hi,” Olivia said. “Can I come in?” Emma didn’t answer right away. The old pain stirred like a shadow behind her ribs. But she stepped aside. They sat at the kitchen table, sunlight falling across the wooden surface like a spotlight. Emma placed a cup of tea in front of Olivia, hands steady but heart racing. Lila babbled in her high chair, oblivious to the history unraveling in the room. “I heard about what you’re doing here,” Olivia said quietly. “The retreats. The writing. The way you’ve turned your pain into purpose.”

a gentle voice interrupted. Olivia turned to see a woman around Lily Bradford's age—maybe even younger—approaching them. She wore a genuine smile that could light up an entire room. Her heart almost stopped when suddenly the woman pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m Leanne Westmore. You must be Olivia, Lily had told me so much about you. We have the same eye color!”

“You can’t be teasing those without showing me.” “Hm,” drunk Olivia whispered. “Okay then.” Then, in the video, Olivia pulled her bikini down and her breasts came into view. She watched herself touch them and react, unable to look away even as her stomach twisted with embarrassment.

Matilda was hunched over her desk, two monitors open, one AirPod in, and a giant cup of cold brew sweating beside her keyboard. Her long braids were looped into a messy bun on top of her head, and she was muttering at an email when Olivia walked in. “You’re lucky I like you,” Olivia said dryly, “because I just betrayed every fiber of my feminist code to get what we need.” Matilda didn’t even look up. “That better mean Lucas signed.”

Olivia wanted to win the competition for his father. Olivia went to school without anyone noticing what she was going through. When asked why she was absent for the last few days, she would say it was due to a personal emergency. Olivia was an excellent actress. She told me not to tell our friends about his father's death, but Nova knew because Olivia's brother on her father's side is Nova's bodyguard slash driver. Yes, it was Kobe.

Talk to you later. [Olivia] 💦

Olivia. A successful CEO and owner of several major companies. Her appearance was, as always, elegant—her hair neatly pinned up, her lips painted a deep maroon. But today, her eyes were different. Not as sharp. There was a flicker of emotion every time her gaze fell on the figure stumbling along the sidewalk across the street. Hunter Jackson. Her ex-husband. ---

A part of me doesn't want to egg him on, but he’s being such a prick right now and riling both me and Netty up, with both of us on the same page it’s hard backing down. “Enough,” yells a woman, standing and raising her voice over the chaos that has erupted around us. Her aura is strong, making everyone cower down, even myself as a wave of calm washes over me and Netty. ‘Whats happening’ Netty groans as she curls back down. ‘She’s Luna, Oliver's mother’ I mumble, that could be the only explanation to why she has any sort of control toward Netty and I. While I kept tabs on my sperm donor I didn’t care to have any other interest in his other family members other than Oliver.

“I came home yesterday. I’ll be here for two weeks. I know you don’t remember, but my birthday is—” “On the 23rd,” I cut in. “Okay, and?” She gave me a look. “I’m having a birthday party. And before you ask, I already told Mom and Dad, and they agreed. They even gave me cash—” “Did you tell them about Bryan?” I asked. “Byron,” he corrected quietly. “Do they know about Blake?” Olivia shook her head. “See, you don’t even know his name. You know what?” She raised her hands. “Whatever. Mom and Dad know about Byron—”

Ava explained. "Waooooh. I can't believe you're the chosen one Alexa. I'm so happy for you." Olivia smiled. "Thank you Olivia." "Any cravings yet? I am not your service, mon chèrie." Olivia bowed a little. "Actually, there is." Alexa laughed. "What is it?" "I've been dying to have banana bread and milk shake all morning. Would you do me the honours?" "Say less." Olivia said, grabbing an apron on the table.