

CHAPTER 3: AT THE AIRPORT
Olive adjusted the strap of her suitcase as she maneuvered through the crowded airport. The din of announcements over the intercom and the bustling of passengers filled the air. Her chest felt heavy, weighed down by the betrayal and heartbreak that had unraveled her life in just a matter of hours. Each step felt like she was leaving behind the fragments of a dream she had clung to for years—a life with Frank, a family she thought she could trust. But that dream was dead now, and she had to move forward.
She gripped her boarding pass tightly, as if it were her lifeline. Her destination was New York City. It wasn’t a place she’d dreamed of living, but it was far enough from the chaos she was escaping. It was a city big enough to lose herself in, to start over without the judgmental stares and whispered rumors that would undoubtedly follow her back home.
Olive inhaled deeply as she stopped at a coffee counter to order something warm. The sleepless night had drained her, leaving her jittery and emotionally frayed. As she picked up her cup and turned, she collided with someone.
Hot coffee splashed onto the floor, and her cup slipped from her hands.
“Watch where you’re going!” a deep, commanding voice barked.
Olive froze, startled. She looked up to find a tall man glaring down at her, brushing his suit jacket with an expression of irritation. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp features, piercing blue-gray eyes, and an aura of power that seemed to draw everyone’s attention. But his words were anything but charming.
“I’m sorry,” Olive managed, bending to pick up her fallen cup.
“Sorry doesn’t fix my suit,” the man snapped, still brushing at the fabric. “Do you have any idea how much this costs?”
Olive’s initial embarrassment quickly gave way to indignation. She stood up straight, meeting his glare.
“It was an accident,” she said, her tone sharper now. “And for the record, you ran into me. Maybe if you weren’t so busy looking down your nose at everyone, you’d have seen me.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, clearly not used to being spoken to that way. “Typical,” he said coldly. “Throwing yourself around, hoping someone like me will take notice. I know your type.”
Olive’s mouth fell open in shock. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said dismissively.
Olive clenched her fists, anger bubbling up inside her. “Listen, Mr. Man in Suit, I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to, but I’m not one of them. So, take your judgmental attitude and shove it.”
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her outburst. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away without another word.
Olive watched him go, her heart racing with a mix of anger and disbelief. “What a jerk,” she muttered under her breath.
She had no idea that the man she had just clashed with was Raymond Stone—the billionaire whose sperm had been mistakenly infused in her
Raymond Stone was not having a good day. His private jet had just landed in Chicago, and his phone was already buzzing with messages from his legal team and the hospital.
The news he’d received earlier that day was still sinking in. The fertility clinic he had entrusted with one of the most important tasks of his life had made a catastrophic error.
“How does this even happen?” Raymond muttered to himself as he walked briskly through the terminal, ignoring the stares he attracted.
He had come to Chicago to confront the hospital staff in person. He wanted answers, and he wanted them immediately.
By the time he arrived at the hospital, he was seething with frustration. Dr. Harris, the head of the fertility clinic, was waiting for him in a private conference room, looking pale and nervous.
“Mr. Stone,” Dr. Harris began, his voice trembling slightly, “we deeply regret the error—”
“Spare me your apologies,” Raymond interrupted, his tone icy. “I want to know exactly how this happened. How did someone else end up being inseminated with my sperm instead of the surrogate I hired?”
Dr. Harris adjusted his glasses, clearly uncomfortable under Raymond’s intense gaze. “There was… a mix-up with the names. Two women named Olive were at the clinic that day. When we called for Miss Olive, the wrong one came forward. Our staff assumed she was the surrogate and proceeded with the procedure.”
Raymond’s jaw tightened. “You’re telling me that your staff didn’t bother to double-check? You’ve just allowed some random woman to carry my child because of a name mix-up?”
Dr. Harris looked down at his hands. “It’s an unprecedented mistake, Mr. Stone. We are taking every step to locate the woman and rectify the situation.”
“Rectify the situation?” Raymond repeated, his voice dangerously low. “You can’t undo this. That woman is carrying my child. Do you even understand the gravity of what you’ve done?”
Dr. Harris nodded quickly. “We understand, sir. We’re doing everything we can to contact her and bring her back here.”
Raymond leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. “You’d better find her, and fast. If anything happens to that child, I will hold this hospital responsible. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Harris said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Raymond straightened and adjusted his suit jacket, his expression still thunderous. “Keep me updated. I want her found immediately.”
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Olive’s flight to New York was uneventful, but her mind was anything but calm. She couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the past few days—the betrayal, the pregnancy test results, the rude stranger at the airport. Everything felt surreal, like she was living someone else’s life.
When the plane landed, she collected her luggage and stepped out into the bustling city. The noise, the energy, and the sheer size of New York were overwhelming, but Olive was determined to make it her new home.
She hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of a small hotel she had booked for the next few days. As the cab weaved through traffic, Olive stared out the window, her thoughts racing.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered to herself. She still hadn’t fully processed the pregnancy. How was it even possible? She had never been with anyone, and yet the test results were clear.
A part of her wanted to go back to the hospital and demand answers, but another part of her was too afraid of what she might find.
By the time she reached the hotel, Olive was exhausted. She checked in, carried her suitcase up to her room, and collapsed onto the bed.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. But as sleep began to take over, one thought lingered in her mind.
Who was the father of her child?

