The Billionaire Who Saved Me - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Xander said to Oliver, "I'm assigning you a task. After the party, take Ms. Gordon home."
Oliver sounded a bit eager. "Yes, Mr. Anderson."
"I'm feeling a little dizzy. I want to head back early. Then we'll be leaving now." I made a playful face at Xander.
Xander chuckled, "Alright. Mr. Cooke, make sure to take good care of our Deputy General Manager."
"Aren't you a bit too talkative?" I pouted, pretending to be annoyed. Then I turned to leave and signaled Oliver to follow.
We stepped outside, and as the wind blew past, I leaned toward Oliver, pretending the alcohol was hitting me. But just as he reached out to steady me, I stepped away.
I turned back with a sweet smile and tossed him the car keys. "Red Maserati in Lot A with a license plate ending in four eights. Be quick."
"Got it. Right away." Oliver caught the keys and jogged toward the company parking lot.
As his figure faded into the distance, the smile on my face vanished. I had just thrown out a little bait, and Oliver had already rushed to bite. I sneered inwardly. This scumbag's nightmare was about to begin.
Soon, the car pulled up. Oliver got out and came around to open the front passenger door. But I opened the door myself and slid into the back seat.
He awkwardly went back and got into the driver's seat. "Ms. Gordon, where do you live? I'll take you home."
"I'm not going home. It's just me there. Too boring. Take me to your place. Am I welcome?" I asked.
"Of course, you're welcome." A flicker of hesitation flashed across Oliver's face, but it disappeared almost instantly.
As he drove, he didn't waste a second laying it on thick with compliments. I played the part of the spoiled rich girl, enjoying his flattery while showing open disdain for his humble background.
When the car pulled into the neighborhood, I couldn't help but clench my fists. Jennifer was most likely living at Oliver's place. I wanted to see just how he'd explain her presence.
Oliver parked the car, and I stepped out, staring at the familiar apartment complex. Everything looked the same. Three months had completely changed me, but this neighborhood hadn't changed at all. I had become an utterly different person, but the place was exactly the same.
I looked around with mock curiosity. "Mr. Cooke, this neighborhood's pretty nice. Bet it wasn't cheap."
"It's alright. Three years ago, I made some major contributions to the company, so I bought this place afterward," he answered.
What a joke. He bought it with my money, and now it was all thanks to his "major contributions"? He really knew how to lie through his teeth.
I smiled, "That's impressive, Mr. Cooke. Truly admirable."
"You flatter me. Please, come in," Oliver replied.
We entered the building and stopped in front of a very familiar door. Oliver took out his keys and opened it. Jennifer, heavily pregnant, came to the door with a smile that vanished the moment she saw me.
I stood behind Oliver, watching Jennifer with a bright smile and tossed her a provoking look. But this was just the appetizer. The real debt—both principal and interest—was yet to come.
Oliver introduced me to Jennifer. "This is the new Deputy General Manager at our company, Ms. Katherine Gordon."
Then he turned to me. "Ms. Gordon, this is my cousin Jennifer Pearson. She's staying with me for the time being."
Jennifer's expression darkened immediately.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Pearson." I stepped forward with a smile and extended my hand. I wanted to see how long she could keep it together.
"Nice to meet you." Jennifer forced a thin smile, barely brushed my hand, then bent over to get Oliver's slippers.
"Take care of our guest first. Where are your manners?" Oliver scolded, then quickly turned to me. "Please don't mind her. She's from a poor village and doesn't know any better."
Jennifer looked pitiful as she turned to get mine. With that belly, it clearly wasn't easy for her to bend over. I didn't feel the slightest bit bad and stood there while she helped me put the slippers on.
Then I added a jab. "Olly, is your cousin working as your maid? I really can't tell she's from a poor village. Is her husband living here too?"
A flicker of awkwardness crossed Oliver's face. He cleared his throat. "Please, come in. Jennifer, get Ms. Gordon some chamomile tea." He didn't take the bait, but I didn't mind.
As I looked around the living room, I commented, "Nice interior. Feels pretty cozy. Wow, that embroidery's huge. Did your cousin make it? She's got some serious skills."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Jennifer's face turned stormy. She pinched Oliver hard and walked off to the kitchen without a word.
A massive embroidery filled with flowers hung on the wall. Pieces like this didn't require much technique, but they were brutal on the eyes.
After one of her class reunions, Amelia kept gushing about how her classmate's daughter-in-law was so hardworking—holding down a full-time job and doing embroidery at night to help with the bills.
Trying to please my mother-in-law, I wanted to work too. But both Oliver and Amelia shut that down immediately, saying a housewife like me should just stay home and behave.
So I started doing embroidery. This one on the wall took two full years and ended up being Amelia's go-to showoff piece.
Once Jennifer left, Oliver visibly relaxed. But he didn't want to answer my question. He gestured instead. "Please, have a seat, Ms. Gordon."
I walked over to the couch and sat down, figuring Amelia would be back any minute now.
She always went grocery shopping around this time, since produce was usually cheaper than in the morning. And Amelia never let me go with her, claiming she was afraid I'd pocket the change.
Jennifer came out of the kitchen carrying a steaming pot of chamomile tea, smiling as she poured me a cup, "Here you go."
I smiled back, "Sorry, I never drink tea like that. Would you mind brewing a cup of coffee instead? It has to be fresh ground from southern Marcate beans. No milk, no sugar. Thanks."
There was no way I'd drink the tea she made. When Oliver asked Jennifer to help me put on the slippers earlier, I caught something nasty in her eyes. Who knew what she might've slipped into the pot?
"We don't have any," Jennifer finally snapped, her tone flat and cold. She turned and went straight to her room. The door slammed shut behind her with a loud bang, loud enough to make her frustration clear.
I shrugged and opened my hands in a gesture of helplessness. I said, acting innocent, "Looks like your cousin's mad. I should probably get going. Seems like I'm not a very welcome guest."
I made a show of standing up to leave, but Oliver immediately stopped me, saying, "No, please don't be upset, and don't go. I'll have her come out and apologize right now."
Oliver went into the room, and I had no idea what the two of them said in there. But sure enough, Jennifer eventually came out and apologized. "I'm sorry, Ms. Gordon. I was rude just now. Please forgive me."
I was about to press further when I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Amelia was home.
Jennifer rushed forward with a bright smile. "Amelia, you're back."
"Yeah." Amelia set her grocery bag aside and spotted my heels. "We have a guest?"
"She's Olly's boss," Jennifer replied.
"Alright." Amelia changed into her slippers. She came over to greet me, her tone humble and eager to please, "Hello, I'm Olly's mother. I didn't expect his boss to be so young and beautiful. With your looks and brains, you're definitely going places."
Oliver and Amelia were exactly the same—kissing up to whoever seemed useful and stepping on whoever didn't.
I didn't respond to her flattery. Instead, I played dumb. "Mrs. Cooke, if Jennifer is Mr. Cooke's cousin, why is she calling you by your first name?"
Amelia's expression went stiff. She was completely at a loss for words. She turned and shot Jennifer a sharp glare.
Jennifer avoided her eyes and tried to sneak back into the room, but of course I wouldn't let her off that easily. As she neared the door, I added, "Would it be alright if I took a look around the house?"
Watching the three of them looking like they just swallowed a lemon, I was beyond satisfied. I asked, "Would that be okay? I really like your home's style and want to redecorate my room."
"Of course, please do," Amelia said, forcing a smile.
Oliver wanted to stop me, but Amelia had already agreed. I went from room to room, checking out Amelia's bedroom and their study.
When I pushed open the door to the master bedroom, I saw that my wedding photo was gone. In its place was a wedding portrait of Oliver and Jennifer.
I opened my mouth wide in mock surprise. "Oh my goodness, Mr. Cooke. You share a room with your cousin? And you even took a wedding photo? That's just unbelievable."
As soon as I finished speaking, I turned to leave. Oliver followed behind me, explaining nonstop, "Ms. Gordon, it's not what it looks like. It's really not like that."