Olivia's POV
I have never had a boyfriend, and nor did I have time for relationships. My dreams and how I could achieve them were the only things that mattered to me. Once in a while, I imagined what my first time having sex would be like. I didn't expect a bed of roses and candlelight, but I also didn't expect it to be this way.
Hard, rough, excruciatingly painful.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My face was pale, my hair disheveled. It had only lasted a few minutes, but the pain in between my legs remained, a cruel reminder of how I had sold my body. My body felt foreign like it didn't belong to me anymore.
I limped toward the towel rack and grabbed a towel to dry my face, wincing at every step. "Ow," I muttered, flinching as I sat on the bed.
A knock at the door startled me. I glanced up, hesitating for a moment. "Who is it?"
"It's Martha," came the voice of the maid assigned to me. She opened the door, "Mr. Lucas is asking to see you in the study immediately."
I swallowed hard. My voice came out weak when I replied, "Okay."
The door didn't close, and when I looked up, I saw the maid still standing there, her expression unreadable but her posture stiff.
"Why are you still here?" I asked puzzled.
She arched a brow. "Do you even know the way to the study?" She said, her voice laced with distaste.
I bit my lip, my pride stinging from her tone. "No, I don't."
I pushed myself to my feet regardless, the pain in my body making me move slowly. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me struggle, but each step toward the study felt like a battle. When we reached the door, she shot me a look of disdain before leaving me there alone.
I took a deep breath and knocked.
"Come in," Lucas's deep voice called from within.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, trying my best to hide the limp in my walk but it was futile. I felt his eyes on me immediately, sharp and piercing.
"Sit," he said, his tone indifferent.
I obeyed, sinking into the chair across from him. My body ached with every movement, but I kept my face blank, refusing to let him see how much pain I was in.
The silence stretched between us until, out of nowhere, he asked, "Were you a virgin?"
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. I hadn't expected him to be so direct, and his question caught me completely off guard. My lips parted, but no words came out.
"Yes," I finally said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "I was a virgin. Until last night."
I hadn't meant to let my anger seep into my tone, but it was there, unmistakable. I couldn't help it—not after the way he'd treated me—like some cheap object. He treated me worse than a whore.
For a fleeting moment, something shifted in his eyes. Guilt. Regret. But it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same cold, emotionless mask he always wore.
"You may go," he said simply, dismissing me with a flick of his hand.
I blinked, stunned. That was it? That was all he wanted to talk about.
I stood slowly, nodding as left the study but his words stopped me in my tracks.
"I had a bad day at work yesterday. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
I turned to look at him only to find his face buried in a pile of documents. Was that an apology? I felt my heart flutter. Hearing him say that made me feel a bit better about myself.
That night, he didn't request my presence in his room, and he didn't come to mine. I don't know if he was being considerate or not, but I was grateful.
***
It was the same routine for weeks.
Lucas visited my room often, and each time he came, it was for one reason. After every encounter, I felt more empty and disconnected from myself. He was a lot gentler on subsequent visits but it didn't help that I still felt like an object. This was the price I had to pay for my mum's life and while I didn't regret my choice, it was still hard to deal with.
I tried not to think about it and hoped I get pregnant sooner enough to put an end to this.
A month passed.
I realized I had missed my period, coupled with the headache that rendered me bedridden. I had been feeling nauseous and when I threw up this morning, my suspicions had already cemented itself.
That morning, I decided to tell Lucas about my symptoms. I went to his study, my heart racing the entire way. I knocked on the door, and his voice called for me to enter.
"What is it?" he asked coldly as I stepped inside.
I hesitated, my palms damp with sweat. "I… I think I might be pregnant."
He stilled, his piercing eyes narrowing as he processed my words. Without a word, he picked up the phone on his desk and made a call. Within minutes, he had summoned his doctor.
*Hours Later*
The doctor had me take a series of tests. I sat in silence as he took my samples, my mind racing with questions– was I pregnant? I hoped so.
When he finally left the room to analyze the results, the weight of Lucas's gaze fell on me.
Neither of us spoke. The tension was suffocating, and I felt like I might break under the pressure.
When the doctor returned, his expression was calm but serious. "It's confirmed. She's pregnant, congratulations." He said with a wide smile.
For the first time since my few weeks in this house, I had seen Lucas smile so brightly.
I watched him laugh heartily with the doctor as he walked him out.
Once I was alone, I placed my hands on my stomach. I was pregnant with my child. Would I really be able to let this child go?