Page 63 of One Sweet Lie

“No, she…” She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t like her anyway,” I said. “This is a good thing, isn’t it?”

She narrowed her eyes at me and tilted her head, reading me like I read potential clients during meetings.

“You must’ve done something, Uncle Brooks,” she said. “There’s no way she quit the same day she stood up to Headmaster Helen and withdrew me from the Academy.”

“She did what?”

“Youfiredher, didn’t you?”

“Let’s back up to the part of this conversation where she pulled you out of school without my permission,” I said. “I’ve already paid your tuition for the year.”

“They’re mailing you a prorated refund check.” She was glaring at me. “Miss Hawthorne wasn’t planning to quit. Especially not now, since she was trying to be my friend, and I know it. She also promised.”

“In that case, she’s also aliar.”

“I hate you, Uncle Brooks.” Her voice cracked. “I reallyhateyou.” She rushed out of the room.

I watched her disappear in disbelief.

Olivia had never spoken to me in that way before. Sure, she’d been upset with me about small things here and there, and I’d been frustrated with her as well, but hate?

Never.

I leaned back and waited for her to return and apologize.

Preferably before the twins wake up…

Several minutes passed, and the only movement in this room was from William rolling over to face Charlotte.

“I hate you, Uncle Brooks.” Her words continued to play in a loop, and as much as I wanted to deny it, they hurt like hell.

Deciding to be the bigger person, I walked down the hall to her bedroom and knocked on the door.

“Olivia?” I asked. “Olivia, we need to talk.”

“Go away.”

“After we talk,” I said. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m coming in,” I said, pushing the door open.

I headed for my usual seat, but it wasn’t there. None of the decor I was used to seeing was.

Gone were the airy skies and custom air balloons that an artist charged me thousands of dollars to create. The walls werenow painted in a stunning coral-pink sunset, accented by white and purple iron butterflies and cloud-shaped bookshelves.

Her white sleigh bed had been replaced with an elegant grey tufted king, and the teddy bear collection was nowhere to be found.

Only more butterflies.

The more I looked around, the more I realized that this better reflected her personality.

When the hell did all this happen?

“Olivia?” I sat on the edge of her bed. “Olivia, turn around and talk to me.”

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