Chapter_202
“Mrs. Harris? Who are you calling Mrs. Harris?” Hillary snapped, her voice cold and cutting.
The maid blinked in confusion. “Isn’t Ms. Olivia married to Mr. Tyler? So… she’s Mrs. Harris.”
Hillary’s expression darkened instantly, her hands curling into fists. That title—Mrs. Harris—belonged to Naomi. No one else had the right to it. How could Olivia possibly take her daughter’s place?
“Does Tyler let everyone call her that?” she demanded, her voice sharp with disbelief.
The maid faltered, unsure of what she’d done wrong. Hillary’s agitation made no sense to her.
“Listen to me carefully,” Hillary said, her tone like ice. “Naomi is Mrs. Harris. She always has been. Olivia is only here to carry the child. Don’t make that mistake again.”
Stunned into silence, the maid stood frozen in place as Hillary turned away without waiting for a response.
Moments later, Hillary stepped into her car, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Just as her vehicle began to pull away, another car approached from the Harris residence. She paused, watching closely.
Maisy and her maid stepped out of the car and headed toward the house.
Hillary stiffened. She hadn’t expected Maisy to come visit Olivia. For a moment, she considered getting out to greet her. But the thought quickly died. She knew her standing in the Harris family had become fragile ever since Naomi’s situation. They didn’t trust her—maybe they never had.
Sitting rigidly in the car, Hillary finally understood the gravity of what was unfolding. Olivia wasn’t just a surrogate. She was carrying the Harris family’s future grandchild. And now that she was legally married to Tyler, she was, in every official sense, his wife.
The realization struck deep. Perhaps things were far more complicated than she had allowed herself to believe.
Back upstairs, Olivia sat quietly on the edge of the bed, still reeling from Hillary’s visit. She had felt Hillary’s tension as she left, and she hated how powerless she felt.
Tyler’s voice broke the silence, his tone softer this time. “If you didn’t want the soup, you should’ve just said no.”
“I knew she meant well,” Olivia replied quietly. “I didn’t want to waste something she took the time to prepare.”
Tyler’s expression hardened. “So you were going to make yourself sick just to avoid offending her?”
That had indeed been her plan, and Tyler knew it without her having to say it. He understood all too well how strained her situation was.
His voice turned cold. “Don’t drink soup for the next few days.” It wasn’t really about the soup—he simply didn’t have the freedom to say more. Not with everything at stake.
Olivia said nothing. She sat still, drained and quiet.
Just then, the door flew open.
Maisy entered quickly, her face full of concern. “How’s Olivia, Tyler? I heard she’s not eating. I was worried, so I came right away.”
She rushed to Olivia’s side, gently cupping her face. Her expression turned pained as she took in Olivia’s pallor. “Why are you so thin, child?”
Olivia was caught off guard by the unexpected visit, but the warmth of Maisy’s presence comforted her. She nodded softly. “I get nauseous easily, Grandma,” she whispered.