Chapter 4 DAD'S CALL

Olive stood at the window of her temporary hotel room, staring out at the city that was both foreign and overwhelming. New York's endless buzz felt like a cruel mirror of the turmoil inside her. Her fingers drummed on the edge of the windowpane as her mind reeled from everything that had unfolded.

This city was supposed to be her escape. It was supposed to be a place where she could start fresh, leave her broken engagement and family betrayals behind, and figure out what to do next. But instead of finding peace, she was now saddled with a mystery pregnancy and a gnawing fear that her life was spiraling out of control.

"I need to find a place," she murmured, pacing the room. Living in a hotel felt too transient, too uncertain. She needed stability, even if only the kind a proper apartment could offer.

---

The search for a new home consumed most of her day. Olive wandered through neighborhoods, touring cramped apartments and overpriced studios. Nothing felt right. The city was bustling, alive, and noisy-everything Olive wasn't in the mood for.

By late afternoon, she stumbled upon a small, quiet building on the Upper West Side. The realtor, a kind woman with a warm smile, led her through the space.

"This is a cozy one-bedroom," the realtor said as she pushed open the door. "It's fully furnished, has a decent kitchen, and plenty of sunlight."

Olive walked in, her footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors. It wasn't grand, but it was peaceful. The soft light streaming through the windows and the quiet hum of the neighborhood made her feel, for the first time in days, like she could breathe.

"I'll take it," she said without hesitation.

---

That evening, Olive sat in her new apartment surrounded by unopened boxes and half-unpacked suitcases. She curled up on the couch, trying to process the enormity of what she was facing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of her phone on the coffee table. She hesitated, her stomach knotting when she saw the caller ID: Dad.

Her fingers hovered over the screen. She hadn't spoken to her father since leaving Chicago. What would she even say to him?

Reluctantly, she swiped to answer. "Hello?"

Her father's voice came through loud and sharp, cutting her like a knife. "Olivia! What is this nonsense I'm hearing? Pregnant? And you don't even know the father? You've brought shame to this family!"

Olive winced, the weight of his disappointment pressing heavily on her chest. "Dad, I-I didn't-"

"Don't you dare make excuses!" he barked, his voice rising. "How could you be so reckless? So shameless? Do you know the kind of humiliation you've brought on me? On your mother?"

Hot tears welled in Olive's eyes and spilled over her cheeks. Her father's words pierced her like daggers, each one striking deeper than the last.

"Dad, it's not what you think," she tried to explain, her voice trembling. "I don't know how this happened. I-"

Her father cut her off. "If you still want to be my daughter, you'll get rid of that child. You'll come back to Chicago and clean up this mess you've made. I'm giving you two days, Olivia. Two days. If you don't do as I say, I'll cut all ties with you. You'll no longer be my daughter."

The call ended abruptly, leaving Olive staring at the screen, her hands trembling. She felt like the ground beneath her had been ripped away, leaving her adrift in an endless, dark void.

The tears came harder now, hot and unrelenting. She pressed her hands to her chest as if trying to hold herself together, but the sobs wouldn't stop. For the first time in her life, she felt completely alone-abandoned by the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

The silence of the apartment felt oppressive after the call ended. Olive sat frozen, clutching her phone, unsure of what to do. The weight of her father's ultimatum hung over her like a storm cloud.

Her despair was interrupted by another call. The phone buzzed in her hand, the number unfamiliar but marked with a Chicago area code.

"Hello?" she answered hesitantly, her voice raw from crying.

"Miss Olive?" a professional voice on the other end said. "This is Dr. Harris from the Chicago Fertility Clinic. We need you to come back immediately. It's urgent."

Olive's stomach dropped. "Why? What's going on?"

"We need to discuss your recent procedure," Dr. Harris said. "There was a mistake, and it's imperative that we speak with you in person."

"A mistake?" Olive repeated, her voice rising in panic. "What kind of mistake? What's going on?"

"Miss Olive, please. This isn't a conversation we can have over the phone. Can you come back to the clinic as soon as possible?"

Olive's grip tightened on the phone. Her heart was racing, her thoughts spiraling. Another problem. Another blow. She didn't know how much more she could take.

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "I just moved. I-"

"Miss Olive," Dr. Harris interrupted gently but firmly, "this is a matter of great importance. We'll cover your travel expenses if necessary. Please consider coming back as soon as you can."

The call ended, leaving Olive even more shaken than before. She sank onto the couch, her head in her hands.

"Why is this happening to me?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

As the hours passed, Olive sat motionless, staring at the floor. The weight of everything-her father's ultimatum, the mysterious call from the clinic, her unexplained pregnancy-was too much to bear.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her. She curled up on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to her chest like a lifeline. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tears still wet on her cheeks.

Sleep came, but it brought no peace. Her dreams were a chaotic blur of faces-Frank's smirk, Diana's cruel smile, her father's angry eyes, and the stranger at the airport who had judged her so harshly. Amid it all was the shadow of a child, faceless but haunting, a constant reminder of the life growing inside her.

Olive woke in the middle of the night, her heart pounding and her mind racing. She stared at the ceiling, feeling more lost than ever.

But deep down, beneath the layers of fear and despair, a tiny ember of resolve began to flicker. She didn't know how, and she didn't know when, but she would find a way to face all of this. She had to-for herself, and for the child she was carrying.