Chapter 109: Chapter 109
Olivia’s POV
I woke up at 5:30 AM, determined not to repeat yesterday’s disaster. I didn’t know what I’d do If I wake up to Maxwell staring at me in my sleep again - I might just have a heart attack.
Moving carefully around the hotel room, I grabbed my suitcase and rolled it quietly to the bathroom. Once inside, I showered, then began my transformation process.
I wore one of my loose suits, and applied my disguise carefully. When I was finally done, I studied my reflection in the mirror, and just then my mind flashed back to last night - had Diane noticed anything at all? If she had, she was definitely taking her time exposing me.
By 6:45 AM, I was fully dressed and ready for whatever the second day held for me. But as I emerged from the bathroom, I noticed something odd. Maxwell was still buried under the duvet, completely motionless.
Why wasn’t he up yet? It’s so unlike him.
I checked my phone. 7:15 AM. We were supposed to be at the conference hall by 8:00 AM, and knowing Maxwell, he would’ve been up and ready by now.
"Sir?" I called softly, not wanting to startle him awake.
No response.
A knot of worry began forming in my stomach. Maxwell was many things - arrogant, demanding, infuriating - but he was never late. Never unprepared. Something was wrong.
I approached the bed. "Mr. Wellington? We need to get ready for the conference."
Still nothing. Now I was genuinely concerned. I reached out to shake his shoulder gently, and the moment my hand made contact with his arm, I jerked it back as if I’d been burned.
He was burning hot.
Not just warm, not just feverish - he was radiating heat like a furnace. Even through the fabric of his pajamas, I could feel the scorching temperature of his skin. The sheets around him were damp with sweat.
Panic set in immediately.
"Maxwell!" I shook him more forcefully - forgetting formalities as I used his first name. "Maxwell, wake up!"
He stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but his eyes remained closed. His face was flushed bright red, and when I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead, I could barely stand the heat.
"Oh God, oh God," I muttered, my mind racing. What was I supposed to do? What the fuck should I do?
I tried shaking him again, harder this time. "Maxwell, please, you need to wake up!"
He mumbled something that sounded like words, but I couldn’t make them out. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and the fever was clearly getting worse.
I looked at his massive frame sprawled across the bed, and realized that it would be impossible to move him. He had to be at least 200 pounds of solid muscle. There was absolutely no way I could drag him anywhere on my own, especially while maintaining my disguise.
With shaking hands, I grabbed the hotel phone and dialed the front desk.
"Front desk, this is Jenny, how can I help you?"
"This is Oliver Hopton in room 847. I have an emergency situation. My boss is extremely ill with a high fever and I can’t wake him up properly. I need help getting him to a hospital immediately."
"Oh my goodness, sir. We’ll send staff up right away. Should I call an ambulance?"
"Yes, please. But I also need help getting him downstairs - he’s quite large and I can’t manage him alone."
"Of course, sir. We’re sending help right now."
Within minutes, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find three hotel staff members - two maintenance guys and a security guard - along with a woman who introduced herself as the assistant manager.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," I said, gesturing toward the bed where Maxwell lay motionless. "He’s burning up with fever and barely conscious."
The security guard, a burly man named Billy, immediately took charge. "Alright, guys, let’s get him up. You take his legs, I’ll get his shoulders."
Together, the three men lifted Maxwell from the bed. He was dead weight, his head lolling to one side, still mumbling incoherently. I grabbed our belongings - wallets, phones - and followed as they carefully carried him out of the room.
Getting him down the hallway was quite easy with the three men carrying him, but getting him in the elevator was difficult since we were all cramped in. Other hotel guests stared as we passed the lobby, whispering among themselves.
Outside, the assistant manager had already arranged for a hotel car. The staff carefully placed him in the backseat, and I climbed in beside him, my heart pounding with worry and adrenaline.
"Take us to the nearest Hospital," I told the driver. "And please drive as fast as you can."
As we pulled away from the hotel, I focused entirely on Maxwell, trying to keep him responsive. His face was still flushed with fever, and his breathing seemed labored.
"Maxwell, can you hear me?" I said, patting his cheek gently. "We’re going to get you help, okay? Just stay with me."
He turned his head slightly toward my voice, his eyes fluttering but not quite opening.
"That’s it," I encouraged. "Stay awake. Talk to me. Tell me anything at all."
A ghost of a smile crossed his fevered features, and he mumbled something about food, belly dancers, and riding on camels.
"Good, that’s good. Keep talking, sir. Where did you ride this camel? What’s the color of the camel? Tell me everything you felt during the ride."
This time he actually chuckled weakly, though his eyes remained closed.
The car hit a bump, and Maxwell’s head rolled toward my shoulder. Without thinking, I reached out to steady him, and in that moment of semiconsciousness, he murmured something that made my blood run cold.
"Olivia... Oliv... I love you so much."
My heart stopped. Why does he keep calling me by my name?
Just then, a thought occurred to me, and I realized I could know the truth - even though I felt shitty about getting it this way.
"Yes. Go on. Tell me about Olivia."
"Sure..." He drawled.