THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.-Chapter 45

At that moment, upon hearing what Cora just said, Melissa’s mouth dropped slightly. She blinked once, then twice, clearly not prepared for that kind of question. Her entire expression shifted—from casual interest to defensive disbelief. She quickly crossed her arms and tilted her head as if offended.

"Wait, what? Why would you say that?" Melissa scoffed, though her voice came out a little too fast. "Cora, seriously? Why would I have something on Oliver? I mean... we’ve only met like three times. Three! What makes you think I’d feel anything?"

Cora raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. "Uh-huh," she murmured, nodding slowly. "Sure. Three times. But funny how you remember the exact number."

Melissa’s jaw clenched slightly. "Well, I’m just saying... it’s not like we’re close or anything. I don’t know him that well."

"Exactly," Cora said with a teasing tone. "Which is why it’s so cute watching you try to convince yourself."

"Convince myself?" Melissa repeated, voice rising an octave. "Cora, please."

But it was too late. Cora could already see through the cracks. Melissa was squirming—not in anger, but in discomfort, the kind that came when someone’s hidden feelings were being gently pulled to the surface. And Cora knew her friend too well. She had seen this behavior before—this specific brand of denial. When Melissa cared, when she felt drawn to someone but didn’t want to admit it just yet, she reacted exactly like this. She over-defended. She denied too much. She made a performance out of it.

Cora leaned back on the nearby pillar, arms crossed, and looked at her like an older sister watching a younger one fall into the same puddle of feelings she once did.

"I didn’t accuse you of anything, you know," Cora said, her voice softer now, more sincere. "I just asked a question. You could’ve simply said no. But now..." she chuckled lightly, "You’ve said more than enough."

Malisa’s shoulders dropped a little as her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Cora continued, stepping forward slightly.

"Look, Malisa... I get it. He’s charming, protective, confident. And he has that quiet fire in him. If I didn’t grow up with him, maybe I’d be a little taken too."

Malisa looked away now, clearly embarrassed, though a faint pink touched her cheeks.

"But listen," Cora added quickly, "I’m not teasing you to make you uncomfortable. In fact, I think you should come with us tonight. You know... the nightcap Oliver talked about."

Malisa turned to her sharply. "Wait—me?" freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Yes, you," Cora said with a bright grin. "Come to the art room. Hang out with us. And who knows? Maybe you’ll talk to Oliver properly this time. Get to know him on your own terms. I can even disappear for a while... give you two space."

Melissa’s eyes widened. "Cora!"

"What?" Cora giggled. "I’m just offering. No pressure, but... don’t act like you’re not curious."

At that moment, Malisa had no idea what to say. She stood there, caught between playful embarrassment and genuine hesitation, her heart thudding faster than she wanted to admit.

At that moment, Melissa shook her head slowly and crossed her arms in frustration. "I said I’m not interested, Cora. I don’t even know why you’re pushing this so hard," she snapped. "Even if I was interested in Oliver—which I’m not—I have my own mouth. I can talk for myself. I don’t need you trying to push a narrative that doesn’t exist."

Cora didn’t flinch. She simply gave her that calm, amused look, the kind of expression only a friend who already knew the truth would wear. Her lips curled into a faint smirk as she stared at Melissa in silence for a few seconds longer.

Then, with a soft sigh, Cora said, "Okay then. Noted. I’ve seen this attitude before. But since you’re clearly not interested in Oliver, no problem. I thought I could help, you know, be a good friend and nudge things along. But you’ve made yourself clear." She shrugged, spun around gently, and began walking ahead.

But Melissa just stood there frozen, watching Cora’s back as she walked away.

Because deep down, her heart was betraying her.

Everything she said just now—every word of denial—was only a mask for the storm going on inside her. And she hated it. She hated how Cora could see through her so easily. Because it was true. Every time she saw Oliver, something stirred in her chest. Her stomach fluttered. Her palms would go cold and her voice would weaken just slightly. She always pretended she didn’t notice it, but she did. Every single time.

The way Oliver looked at her when they met—the calm in his eyes, the unspoken charm in his half-smiles—it made her feel something she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. That’s why it scared her. That’s why she wanted to run from it.

Cora picked up on it before she even did. Maybe because she herself had once felt the same thing for someone, and knew what it looked like when someone tried to hide it.

But Melissa wasn’t ready to admit anything yet. So she stayed back. She decided to bury the feeling and walk away. She turned in the opposite direction, quietly whispering to herself, "Just mind your business, Melissa. Don’t complicate things."

And with that, she walked away—shoulders tight, head down, trying to silence her own heart.

—

We now shift the scene.

When Oliver got home that evening, he was surprised the moment he opened his door.

His footsteps slowed the moment he walked into the living room.

There, sitting with calm authority and undeniable presence, was his father—tall, sharp-eyed, dressed in a dark suit like he’d just stepped out of a board meeting. And right beside him, lounging casually with a cup of wine in his hand, was his older brother.

Oliver blinked.

"What... are you both doing here?" he asked, closing the door behind him with caution.

His father didn’t speak at first. He simply stared at Oliver with eyes that had seen too many deals fall apart, too many betrayals to count, and yet—still demanded nothing short of perfection from his sons.

Oliver’s brother, however, was the first to smirk.

"Welcome home, little brother," he said, raising his glass slightly. "We’ve been waiting."

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