Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 273

Maxwell’s POV

Option one: Go to Olivia’s parents.

I could show up at the Hoptons’ house tomorrow. Explain everything to them - how I’d been searching for Olivia for years, how much I loved their daughter. Appeal to them as a father-to-be, ask them to help me convince Olivia to keep the baby.

But even as I considered it, I knew it was a terrible idea.

Her parents had forgiven me for what happened twenty years ago, but that didn’t mean they’ll embrace me when I tell them the whole story. And showing up on their doorstep to announce I’d gotten their daughter pregnant and then treated her like shit at work? That would only make me look like more of a monster.

And Kennedy... God, Kennedy would probably kill me on sight.

Option two: Use the company.

I could threaten to fire her if she went through with the abortion. Make keeping her job contingent on keeping the baby.

I felt sick the moment the thought crossed my mind.

That wasn’t just wrong - it was evil. It was exactly the kind of manipulative, controlling behavior that had gotten me into this mess in the first place. And it would only prove to Olivia that everything she thought about me was true. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

No. Absolutely not.

Option three: Beg.

Just... keep begging. Every day. Show up at her door, wherever she was, and plead with her to give me a chance. To give us a chance. To not throw away something that could be beautiful just because I’d been too stupid and damaged to handle it correctly from the start.

But begging hadn’t worked so far. And there was only so much rejection a person could take before they had to accept reality.

Option four: Give her space.

Back off completely. Let her breathe. Let her process everything that had happened without me hovering over her, pressuring her, making everything worse with my presence.

Maybe if I gave her time and distance, she’d realize on her own that the baby was worth keeping. That despite everything I’d done wrong, there was still something worth saving between us.

But what if space just gave her the freedom to go through with the abortion? What if the moment I stopped fighting was the moment I lost everything?

Option five: Tell her the whole truth.

Sit her down and tell her everything. Every single detail about that day behind the library, about Peter and his friends, about my father’s cruel bargain with her father, about how I’d been too much of a coward to speak up when it mattered and why.

Explain how finding her again had felt like getting a second chance at everything I’d lost. How loving her had consumed me for twenty years. How every cruel word I’d said to her had been my own self-hatred turned outward.

Make her understand that I wasn’t just some manipulative asshole playing games - I was a broken person who’d loved her since I was twelve years old and had never learned how to show it properly.

Maybe if she understood the why, she could forgive the what.

I sat up straighter, the whiskey glass forgotten.

That was it. That had to be it.

Complete honesty. No more secrets, no more games, no more manipulation.

Just the truth, laid bare, and let her decide what to do with it.

It was the only option that didn’t involve forcing her hand or running away. The only one that treated her like the intelligent, capable woman she was instead of a problem to be solved or a possession to be controlled.

I’d tell her everything. Tomorrow, when she’d had time to rest and I’d had time to find the right words.

I’d tell her about the guilt that had eaten at me for years, about how seeing her pepper-spray those bullies had made me fall in love with a girl who was braver than anyone I’d ever known.

And then I’d let her choose.

Even if she chose to walk away.

Even if she chose to end the pregnancy.

At least it would be her choice, made with all the information, not another decision forced on her by my manipulation.

I felt something loosen in my chest - not quite hope, but maybe the beginning of acceptance.

I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed.

Time to go back.

********

I drove back to the hospital with my new resolve settling over me like armor.

Tomorrow. I’d do this tomorrow.

Tonight, I’d just stay close. Make sure she was safe. Make sure she didn’t run.

I parked and headed straight for her room, already rehearsing in my head how I’d approach her in the morning. Calm, honest, vulnerable.

But when I pushed open the door to her room, all my plans shattered.

The bed was empty.

"What..." I stepped inside, looking around like she might be hiding somewhere.

The bathroom door was open, the light off. Empty.

I checked the tiny closet. Nothing.

I even looked under the bed in a moment of desperate irrationality.

Gone.

She was gone.

"Shit. Shit. SHIT!" I ran out of the room, my heart pounding.

That incompetent nurse. The one I’d told to watch Olivia, to call me if she tried to leave.

I found her at the nurses’ station, calmly typing something into the computer.

"Where is she?" I demanded, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. "Where did she go?"

The nurse looked up, seemingly unbothered by my panic. "Oh, she discharged herself about ten minutes ago. Said she couldn’t stay here anymore."

White noise filled my ears.

"Why didn’t you call me?" I grabbed the edge of the counter to keep my hands from shaking. "I specifically told you to call me if she tried to leave!"

"I did call you," she said, frowning slightly. "Several times, actually. But you didn’t answer."

"What do you mean I didn’t..."

I patted my pockets frantically.

Front pocket: wallet.

Back pocket: nothing.

Jacket pocket: car keys.

Other jacket pocket: nothing.

My phone. Where was my phone?

And then it hit me like a truck.

The bar. The girl who’d been all over me, touching my arm, sitting too close, trying to get my attention while I kept pushing her away.

That bitch had taken my phone.

"Fuck!" The word exploded out of me, and several nurses looked up in alarm. "FUCK!"

I spun around, running for the exit, my mind already calculating how long ago Olivia had left, where she might have gone, how fast I could get there.

But even as I ran, I knew the truth.

She was gone.

And this time, she’d made sure I couldn’t follow.