The General's Replacement Doctor Wife

Chapter Twenty-one

Olivia had barely gathered her composure when the car door opened. Clayton offered her his hand, and she took it without hesitation.

The gentle warmth of his palm seeped into hers, offering a strangely comforting sensation. Her chaotic thoughts gradually faded, replaced by an unexpected sense of courage as she got out of the car.

“Your hand is cold,” Clayton mumbled, almost to himself. His fingers pressed softly to her temples, searching for signs of a fever. Only when he felt the normal warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips did he breathe a small sigh of relief.

Olivia glanced down at her cold hand, then looked back at him. She offered a gentle, almost dismissive smile and responded softly, “It must be the cold air. I guess I didn’t realize how chilly it got tonight.”

Clayton studied her face, his eyes probing hers as if attempting to gauge her thoughts. Yet, she maintained her mask, which made her emotions impossible to read.

Finally, he let out a resigned sigh. Squeezing her hand, he turned to Sarah, whose gaze on Olivia was filled with deadly intent.

“It’s been a while,” Clayton greeted politely.

Sarah was too preoccupied to reply. She was scrutinizing Olivia from head to toe, seemingly searching for any flaw. When she found nothing, a flicker of irritation crossed her features. “You’re his girlfriend?”

Olivia should have responded, but she was too stunned to speak. She could hardly believe Sarah failed to recognize her.

Was it the light that made her unrecognizable? Was it the way her hair was now loosely framing her features, softening her appearance? Or maybe it was the years that had passed, years that had transformed her from a scrawny girl into a confident woman.

Olivia pulled herself together. She was just about to reply when Clayton interrupted by clearing his throat. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. Her breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned closer.

“This is my wife, Olivia,” Clayton announced smoothly. “Olivia, this is Sarah, Mom's friend's daughter.”

“Wife? You must be kidding, Clayton.” Sarah’s laugh sounded bitter. Her gaze raked over Olivia again, this time with a different kind of scrutiny, not just assessing, but dissecting her like a frog in a science experiment. “Since when?”

Clayton’s grip on Olivia's waist tightened possessively. "Four years ago,” he answered.

Sarah staggered as if she had been physically struck. The color drained from her face, transforming her previously rosy cheeks sickly white. “W-what? But Mom never told me!”

“That's because, if I had told you, you would have rashly quit art school and abandoned everything just to get home," 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!”