The General's Replacement Doctor Wife

Chapter Twenty-six

When lunch came to an end, Olivia gently rose from her seat, careful not to let the legs of her chair scrape against the floor. 

She knew right away what would follow. Rounds of wine on the porch and hours of conversation. Before she could be dragged into something she would have to endure rather than enjoy, she announced her departure while looking at her adoptive parents. 

“I have to go. The hospital just sent me a message. There’s an emergency. I need to get back right away.”

It was half truth, half lie, Olivia thought as she reached for her bag. Her phone had indeed beeped a while ago, informing her that a patient needing surgery had arrived, but it wasn’t scheduled for another two hours.

Olivia could have stayed. She could have followed them to the porch, accepted a glass of wine she wouldn’t finish, and nodded and smiled when expected. She just didn't want to.

Mrs. Hilton tilted her chin, her deep-set eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “Now?”

“I wish I could stay longer, but treating patients is my priority.”

“You always seem to have an emergency ready for the exact moment you’d rather leave,” Mrs. Hilton blurted. She leaned back in her chair, one hand tracing lazy circles in her wine glass, the other resting lightly on the table.

Olivia opened her mouth, then closed it again. The blunt remark momentarily threw her off balance.

Clayton stood with effortless ease. “Olivia’s needed at the hospital, but I’d be more than happy to keep you company for another glass on the porch.” He flashed Mrs. Hilton a persuasive smile, the kind that could melt even the most polished diamond. “Shall we?”

A moment of silence lapsed.

Mrs. Hilton finally waved her hand in a gesture that carried reluctant concession. “Well… I suppose I can’t force her to stay.”

Olivia caught the faintly disapproving, almost scolding look on Mrs. Hilton’s face before she and Mr. Hilton turned away. “You can leave.”

“Goodbye,” she said, almost more to herself than to anyone else.

“Drive safely,” Clayton called.

“I will.”

Olivia stepped out the door, and the cool afternoon air hit her. She realized she’d been holding her breath and let it slip out in a relieved sigh.

Her feet carried her to the car almost on their own. Once inside, she shut the door and let her head fall back against the seat. She was emotionally tired. If there had been a prescription to temporarily numb everything, she would have taken it without hesitation. Unfortunately, none existed. She would just have to endure the mental exhaustion until it passed.

A few moments later, she felt calm enough to drive. She straightened, turned the key in the ignition, and drew in a steady breath. One thought flashed through her mind at that moment: she had two hours. Just two hours. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to meet her lawyer and finally declare that she was divorcing her husband.

—

“WHAT? YOU’RE FILING FOR DIVORCE?”

The words ricocheted through the air like a thunderclap, freezing the room in an instant. Everyone present seemed to forget how to breathe. The guard hovering in front of the door, the couples scattered across the rows of tables, even the serving staff who had wandered in earlier turned to stare.

Olivia felt as though she had been caught naked in public. Her ears felt hot, and her cheeks ignited into a shade of red that could only be described as embarrassingly fluorescent. She wanted to sink into the floor and vanish.