Chapter 8

Was he out of his mind? That was the only thought echoing through Cynthia's head. The moment they entered the room, Oliver threw her onto the bed. His kisses rained down on her face, her neck, her chest, then trailed downward with an urgency she hadn't seen in him for a long time. He was desperate—desperate to prove something. His hands roamed her body, searching feverishly for signs that she still loved him, but she gave him nothing. The bedroom door suddenly opened. Melissa stood there, tears welling in her eyes, trembling as she took in the sight of their entwined bodies. "I'm sorry… I just thought Cynthia didn't eat much, so I brought her something," she sobbed, thrusting a bowl of oatmeal into Cynthia's hands before running away in tears. Oliver, who had been furious at being interrupted, instantly sobered when he saw Melissa's devastated expression. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he muttered, "I'm going to grab a smoke. Be right back." He didn't wait for Cynthia's reply. His figure vanished through the doorway. Cynthia silently straightened her disheveled clothes. "You must feel proud of yourself, don't you?" The voice came out of nowhere. She looked up to see Melissa again—her eyes now brimming with jealousy. How was she already back? "I'll never give Oliver to you." Cynthia stared in disbelief as Melissa picked up the bowl of oatmeal and smashed it to the floor. Then, she yanked the pearl bracelet from her wrist and shoved it into Cynthia's hands. "Cynthia, I'm returning the bracelet to you. Why can't you just forgive me?" She whimpered, and right on cue, Oliver returned, just in time to see her exposing her reddened, supposedly scalded hand. "Cynthia! What the hell did you do?" His roar shook her to the core. "It wasn't me. I didn't do anything." "Still lying? Cynthia, why can't you ever stop lying?" Oliver shoved Cynthia toward the shattered porcelain on the floor, nearly forcing her face into the mess. "I've been too soft on you. Look at the damage you've caused. Apologize to Melissa—now!" "I didn't do anything. Why should I—" "Oliver, don't blame Cynthia. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come to disturb you two… I'm sorry, Cynthia. I'm so sorry…" Melissa's tears and her pitiful understanding only made Cynthia seem more irrational, more monstrous. Oliver pointed at the floor with a furious snarl. "In this house, we don't waste food. Cynthia, if you don't lick up every drop of that oatmeal, don't blame me for what happens next." His statement sent a shiver down Cynthia's spine. It dragged her memory back to the time he had abandoned her on that cursed island. She opened her mouth, desperate to plead—but the moment her eyes met Oliver's cold, merciless ones, something inside her snapped. Nothing she said would matter anymore. Tears welled up, she crawled across the floor, licking up the spilled oatmeal mixed with sharp porcelain shards, forcing them down her throat. As he watched her swallow, something flickered in Oliver's eyes. A flash of guilt? Of pain? His pupils darkened with something unreadable. "Enough." His voice was hoarse. "This is the last time. Stay in this room and reflect on your actions. You're not to leave the room for the next few days." Then, he scooped Melissa into his arms and walked away. Cynthia heard the click of the door being locked. The moment it closed, her tears poured freely. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number. "Hey, Gregory. Change of plans. I'm not leaving just yet. Get everything ready." Her voice turned sharp and cold. She enunciated each and every word. "I want to give Melissa a gift—something special—for her coronation ceremony as CEO." She wanted to leave quietly, but both Oliver and Melissa forced her hand. … The media had gathered in droves for the press conference at the Johnson Corporation headquarters. Word had it that the new CEO would be Luke's daughter, the heiress of the entire Johnson empire. Melissa, clad in flawless makeup and designer fashion, glided into the hall like she belonged there, grace and ambition in every step. Cameras flashed as the sound of shutters filled the air. She moved to the front row, back straight, the spotlight fully hers. From the side, Oliver watched her, utterly bewitched by her beauty. "She's Mr. Johnson's daughter? Wow, she's stunning." "I heard she's not just pretty—she's a powerhouse. That Tyrell Corporation acquisition? All her doing." "No wonder Mr. Johnson is handing the company over to her." Compliments filled the room. Melissa sat taller, basking in the praise. She smiled as the host took the stage, voice booming with enthusiasm. The time had come to announce the new CEO. "Please welcome the new CEO of Johnson Corporation, our beloved young lady…" The host paused for dramatic effect. Melissa's heart pounded. She was already halfway out of her seat, ready to walk onstage. "Ms. Cynthia!" The room fell silent for a beat. Cynthia? Did Melissa mishear the words? No way! Melissa shot up, outraged, ready to demand an explanation, but then the doors swung open. Every spotlight in the room turned, locking onto the entrance. And there stood Cynthia—confident, radiant, and unshakeable. Dressed in a tailored high-fashion suit, flanked by bodyguards, she strode into the center of the room like she owned the place. The energy shifted, resulting in the air bowing to her presence. "Thank you all for coming," she said, her voice cool and commanding. "I'm Cynthia, the eldest daughter of the Johnson family…" Her gaze settled on Melissa, and a cold smirk curved her lips. "And the rightful CEO of Johnson Corporation."