Page 14 of Dr. Damaged Protector

"While I do love the fact you find my hair attractive," Olivia said. "But I would love it if you maintained a respectful distance around my personal space. If you want to admire my hair or anything, ask for permission…. I don't like being touched willy-nilly."

"Learnt that the hard way," Father muttered with a chuckle as he held his left cheek.

He irritated me, but the fact that Olivia might have smacked him filled my heart with joy.

"Smart mouth, huh?" Tabitha was displeased by Olivia's response. "I apologize."

"Now, don't just stand there; take your seat," Father told Olivia. "Dinner is already cold."

Olivia did as he instructed and found a place to sit at the dining table. Gregory had stayed behind, watching everything happen before he left. Helena had her eyes trained on Olivia. Father, too. Olivia ate her meal in silence under their gaze, like it was an everyday experience for her. She was different.

What happened to the woman I met at the bar?

Chapter five

The Story of Different Paths

Olivia

I haven't had an average family. Well, I didn't have one in the beginning. My parents died in a car accident, and I was only two years old. I was taken care of by my maternal grandmother. She did her best, but age was already telling on her.

Surviving wasn't easy, and she did her best trying to make sure that I lived a comfortable life for as long as possible. But it was hard.

Very hard.

At fifteen, I started attending school less and spent most of my time handling part-time jobs or finding clothes to sell. It was tough. My mother had a younger sister, but my grandmother had nothing good to say about her.

"Your aunt is a slut…she's taking the easy way out. If she only acted like your mother and focused on her studies, she would have to do her work now," Grandmother would say.

I didn't know how bad their relationship had to be for my grandmother to say something about her flesh and blood in that manner. Although I had never spoken to her, my aunt would send money through the mail. Grandmother refused to spend any of the money sent and even returned most of it or stashed it away, calling it filthy money.

I understood my aunt was an escort, but I felt rejecting the money was too much. Luckily, I could compete for scholarships and cover my high school expenses without having her worry about it.

****

When Grandma died, I finally met my aunt. Her curves were natural, and she had a seductive look. The funeral attendees had eyes on her, but not for the right reasons.

"Isn't that the other daughter?"

"Isn't she a prostitute or something?"

"Such a waste of her beauty."

"How much do you think she would charge for a night?"

I knew what her job entailed, but the remarks were utterly unnecessary.

"Hi, Olivia," she greeted after the funeral came to an end, "I'm Sarah, your mother's younger sister. I'm sorry our first-time meeting again had to be this way. But my mother wouldn't let me see you."

"Again?"

"Yeah, I was there when you were born, but I guess you won't remember," she chuckled dryly.

Her eyes were full. She had definitely cried a lot. Her makeup did a shoddy job of hiding the swollen eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," I said as I accepted her handshake.

"You too," she smiled, then turned her gaze to my grandmother's gravestone. "Did she say anything good about me."

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