My Ex's Brother

After several strong margaritas, a wave of intoxication flushed Olivia's cheeks. She half-squinted her eyes, leaning against the outdoor bar as the cool night breeze, mixed with a hint of chill, brushed past, dispersing the haze. Loose strands of hair fluttered before her eyes, mingling with her eyelashes and blurring her vision.

On this quiet Monday night, the bar had only a few patrons, and even the sound technician couldn't be bothered to play music-it was as quiet as a library.

Her phone remained silent.

Her boyfriend of two years, Matthew, had suddenly announced his engagement to Dorothy, the heiress of the Fleming Hotel Group, without any reasons or explanations.

The chat interface with Matthew still showed her last message from two days ago-a simple "goodnight."

After making seven or maybe eight calls to the same number, with none answered, a chill crept over Olivia's shoulders, and she decided to head back inside.

As she passed the outdoor pool, Olivia noticed a small table between the lounge chairs adorned with a bouquet of roses and several flickering scented candles. An ice bucket held a bottle of champagne at an angle. The area was eerily silent, and Olivia wondered which lucky woman was meant to enjoy this setup. She chuckled softly, recalling the time when Matt had gifted her a huge bouquet of pink Ecuadorian roses.

Men's hearts change faster than New York weather.

Tiny ripples in the pool reflected the bar lights, flickering brightly then dimming. As Olivia walked along the poolside, her necklace suddenly snapped. The pendant shaped like Saturn clinked onto the ground, bounced, and rolled into the pool. The alcohol slowed her reaction, and she only stared as the necklace sank to the bottom. After a few seconds, she blinked, realizing she needed to retrieve it.

Kicking off her high heels, she descended the pool ladder. Misjudging the depth, the water quickly rose above her chest, making her head spin with intoxication. Olivia slipped and fell underwater, struggling weakly to grasp at the splashing water.

A splash behind her signaled someone else entering the water, and a wave of water spread from behind. Olivia felt a hand grab hers, pulling her back against a warm chest. Instinctively, she gripped the person's arm.

Her vision blurred by the water, Olivia took a moment to regain her bearings before looking up into a pair of anxious, restrained eyes.

"Matthew?" she murmured, recognizing the face.

The man hesitated at the name. Water dripped down from his wet bangs across his cheeks, soaking into his drenched white shirt which clung to his sculpted physique. Her gaze drifted down from his tightly pursed lips, over the moving Adam's apple, to the defined muscles of his chest.

With each downward glance, a deeper shade of pink tinged her cheeks.

"Risking yourself for a necklace?" he frowned, his gaze intense.

"Is this necklace really that important to you?"

It was Adrian, who had been quietly drinking alone in the bar. He hadn't met Olivia before, but had seen her photos on his older brother's phone-along with many others.

She had called him by his brother's name, obviously mistaking him for his brother.

Moonlight spilled behind her, illuminating her bare shoulders with a halo effect. The wine-red dress she wore was more stunning than he had imagined. Her head bowed slightly, her curled eyelashes quivering softly against Adrian's chest, tickling him.

Adrian leaned towards the pool edge, helping her out before sitting her down on the stone steps.

"I thought you never wanted to see me again," Olivia murmured, tears spilling from her eyes.

"I was..." Adrian seemed to want to explain.

In the next moment, Olivia leaned forward and kissed him. Her voice, frail and whispering near his ear, said, "Isn't this what you always wanted? Maybe I was wrong before. Take me to a hotel. I'll give you what you like."

Adrian chuckled lightly, biting her lip gently. "Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"As long as you don't leave me."

The dim hotel room light cast a soft glow on the couple engaged in a passionate embrace. The man's tall, handsome figure intertwined with the woman's delicate, supple form, creating a beautiful silhouette against the marble wall.

Olivia felt herself being gently laid down, Adrian's robust frame pressing down upon her. His kisses trailed down her neck to her collarbone, each touch sparking sensations like electricity, tinged with a moist masculine scent.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

Olivia, slightly dazed and weak, lay helplessly on the bed, hearing fragments of conversation about a hospital and someone named Roberts.

"It's handled," Adrian said after hanging up, looking down at Olivia with a mix of tenderness and amusement in his eyes. Shaking his head, he remarked, "I'm not interested in women who throw themselves at me so cheaply," before dressing and leaving the room.

The next morning, Olivia woke with a throbbing headache. She checked her clothes. Aside from a few undone buttons, everything was intact.

She called the front desk, and the clerk politely informed her, "Mr. Roberts instructed us to allow you extra rest, so feel free to take your time."

Matt had remembered their past, after all. She had been with him for two years.

The thought left Olivia feeling hollow. Last night's familiar yet strange scent lingered in her mind. Now, in the quiet hotel room, even the air felt cold.

Olivia got out of bed to freshen up in the bathroom. Seeing her lipstick-smudged lips in the mirror brought a blush of embarrassment, recalling the previous night.

Her phone rang. It was from the hospital.

"Is this Miss Olivia Williams? This is Roberts Hospital in New York. Your father has just been brought in by an ambulance; he collapsed and is in critical condition."

The news hit her like a thunderbolt. Olivia, trembling, hung up and quickly grabbed her bag to check out and rush to the hospital.

"Please, drive as fast as you can," she urged the taxi driver, clutching her purse tightly. Olivia had grown up with her father, her only family, as her mother had been incarcerated for a crime since Olivia's birth.

"Lord, please bless my father," Olivia prayed silently.

"Your father has congenital heart disease. There are two treatment options. One is conservative treatment to sustain life, but no one can guarantee how long it can last, and the condition may recur at any time. The other option is immediate surgery, but the location of the lesion is very rare, and only three doctors in the world can perform it, only one of whom is in the United States- Dr. Patrick Roberts, the old Roberts."

Olivia gasped upon hearing this. Not only because Patrick Roberts was the father of Matthew, but also Dr. Roberts was a renowned authority in cardiology and neurology, famous across America, known to operate only on politicians and celebrities, with fees that were astronomical.

Should she contact Matthew? Anyway he is the son of the old Dr. Roberts. Olivia pulled out her phone to call him, but was directed to his voicemail. Blocked!

"Let's start with conservative treatment for now. Please move my father to the best room available, and I'll figure out the rest." Olivia planned to mortgage her property and her father's company shares to raise the money. Through the glass, seeing her father's pale face covered with an oxygen mask, she silently urged, "Dad, you must pull through. I will find a way to cure you, no matter what."

"A new patient?"

A magnetic voice came from behind her. Olivia turned around to see a tall figure in a crisp white lab coat, his features chiseled and his gaze cool and restrained, exuding an air of self-possession.

She felt he looked familiar but couldn't place him. It seemed she had seen him somewhere before.

"Yes, Dr. Adrian Roberts."

Roberts! That was Matt's brother! Olivia remembered now; Matt had mentioned he had a younger brother by two years. No wonder he looked familiar.

Adrian glanced at her briefly before entering the room. After a while, he emerged, and his secretary motioned for Olivia to follow.

Olivia entered Adrian's office on the top floor of the hospital. Pushing open the door, a massive floor-to-ceiling window offered a panoramic view of Manhattan.

Adrian, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for Olivia, who sat down awkwardly.

"I am aware of your father's condition. We can arrange for conservative treatment in the best room available, provided you can cover the weekly treatment cost of one hundred thousand dollars."

"And the surgery?" If they didn't operate, her father's chances were slim. Being confined to a room, wasn't that akin to being dead?

Adrian leaned back in his chair. "My father won't perform the surgery. I assume you know he performs only a limited number of surgeries each year, and not everyone gets the opportunity, even if they have the money."

"Is there nothing more important than life? Reputation, status..." Olivia stood up anxiously.

"Miss Olivia Williams, I must remind you to watch your words," Adrian's tone was calm yet commanding.

Olivia calmed down a bit and sat back down.

"I was actually with your older brother..."

"He's engaged to someone else, isn't he? So you're his ex-girlfriend? Does that status provide any legal protection, Olivia? I think you don't need me to remind you of that."

Olivia was at a loss for words, tears swirling in her eyes, but she held them back.

"I'll ask him again," she said quietly, pulling out her phone to message Matthew.

"Speaking of last night," Adrian tapped lightly, whether unintentionally or not, his expression quickly returning to neutral. "Miss Williams, it would be better if you didn't walk by the pool when you're drunk next time."

"What? How did you know?"

"And I suggest you drink less-for your health," Adrian stood up, nearly face-to-face with Olivia as he spoke each word, "and for your reputation. So you don't mistake people and end up in the wrong bed again." His voice was as gentle and calm as ever, but to Olivia, it felt like a thunderclap. "What?! Did we do something last night?"

Adrian's eyes suddenly twinkled with mischief. "You might want to refresh your memory."

Olivia, worried about her father's illness, had no heart for frivolous romantic entanglements.

"Dr. Adrian Roberts, he's the only family I have left. Please, help me convince your father to do the surgery," Olivia pleaded earnestly, standing with her head bowed.

"How old are you this year, Miss Olivia?"

"22. Why?"

"Why do I feel like you're only 12? If pleading worked like this, the world would be far too kind."

"To save my father, I'm willing to do anything."

"That sounds much like you were when trying to keep a man," Adrian opened a file on his desk, seemingly preparing for other work.

Olivia felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, remembering last night's events. "Then you want...?"

"What?" Adrian didn't look up and continued to look down at the papers on his desk.

Olivia didn't respond but lowered her head and undid a button at her chest, pulling her neckline down slightly. Clearly, in the not-so-kind world Adrian spoke of, a world of transactional relationships, all she could offer this arrogant, talented heir was physical satisfaction.

Adrian stroked his palm and took a deep breath.

Yes, he was like his brother, a veteran of romantic games, but seeing Olivia like this somehow unnerved him. She was naive and awkward, like a green peach, just ripe and tempting.

"Did you do this with my brother too?"

"What?" Olivia was surprised, looking up into Adrian's eyes, "I guess you're all the same."

"Maybe, or maybe you're wrong," Adrian looked down to start on another document, writing something. "Patrick Roberts won't handle your father's surgery. Please go home."

"I wasn't with Matthew." Olivia didn't know why she felt the need to clarify, perhaps fearing Adrian's judgement might keep him distant.

Adrian looked up at Olivia, as if she really was a naive child who had caused trouble.

Olivia avoided his gaze.

Adrian walked over, gently pinching her chin to turn her face towards him. Face-to-face, so close Olivia could feel his breath on her skin, warm and scented with tea.

"What?" Olivia doubted her ears. What? Here? Take off my underwear here? Her eyes darted around in panic, her body stiffening.

"Hmm," Adrian chuckled, maintaining his proud, calm demeanor, "Don't bite off more than you can chew."

Emerging from Adrian's office, dusk had settled, and the dimming sky was painted with hues of the setting sun. Olivia stood lost in thought as she contemplated the looming expenses of her father's hospital stay. With her modest income as a dance performer and the uncertainty of when her bank loan might be approved, the weight of her situation suddenly felt overwhelming.

"Olivia!" A tap on her shoulder startled her; it was Zoe, her high school best friend and confidante. Although their paths had diverged since Zoe married early, their bond remained strong, and their rare meetings were filled with endless conversations.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked, surprised.

"I came for a prenatal check-up," Zoe replied, patting her belly gently.

"Why didn't you tell me such big news? Congratulations!" Olivia exclaimed, genuinely happy for her friend.

"It's only been two months. I wanted to be sure before going public. How about you? It's been a while since I've seen you and your dad. How is he?"

Hearing her father mentioned, Olivia's tears began to flow again. "He's had a heart attack. He's currently undergoing conservative treatment, and I'm hoping to arrange surgery for him."

Zoe looked worried and unsure how to comfort her friend, simply squeezing Olivia's hand and saying, "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Olivia hesitantly asked, "Could you lend me some money? The hospital expenses for my dad are quite high."

"If I controlled our finances, I would help you in a heartbeat, but I'm currently not working, and my husband manages our money. I really don't have much. But I can suggest a way to make money quickly, though it's a bit... unsavory."

"What way?"

"Well... There's a club in Manhattan. They have striptease on every Friday nights, attended by socialites, and even the entrance fee is a few thousand dollars. Olivia, you're beautiful and a great dancer. If you performed there, you could make a lot more than what you earn at the theatre."

Olivia felt tempted but hesitated at the thought of performing striptease.

"If my dad were aware, he'd say he didn't raise me to become an exotic dancer."

Olivia's father loved her dearly but was very strict with her upbringing. He even prohibited her from going out alone with boys until she was fifteen. As a result, she didn't have many male friends. Once, when a group of boys called out her name on the path outside her house, her father opened the window and glared at them until he scared them away. It wasn't until she was twenty that Olivia first went to a bar. She hid in a corner, watching men and women dancing passionately on the dance floor, feeling as helpless as a little lamb.

Such an upright and strict father would never allow her to visit a strip club, let alone perform on stage. But money was desperately needed.

"A hospital hears more prayers than a church," she muttered to herself.

"Do you have a contact for this club? I'll go."

Armed with contact from Zoe, Olivia found her way to the Red Room club, which had the guise of a speakeasy. Once inside, everything from the doors to the walls and ceiling was draped in striking red. A provocative nude painting hung on the wall, stirring the imagination.

The manager of the dancers, Justin, a young man with flamboyant makeup, lit up upon seeing Olivia. "Absolutely perfect, just the kind of innocent yet seductive look we need here. Come with me to the dressing room."

Hesitant, Olivia followed.

Pushing open the dressing room door, Justin tossed Olivia a piece of clothing, or more accurately, a piece of fabric, since there was so little material.

"This?" Olivia asked incredulously, "How?"

"You're here now; what did you expect? You're here to please men-and a few women. Forget your inhibitions; you're merchandise here. Merchandise doesn't choose its packaging."

"Understood, thanks for the tip," Olivia replied, changing into the garment. Justin's harsh reality check struck a chord. Here, dignity was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Justin took Olivia's hand, examining it thoroughly from top to bottom, inside and out. "Not bad, indeed a beautiful pair of hands-slender and elongated, with soft, fair skin. But the manicure needs redoing. Switch to something with fluorescence. It's sexier and more enticing to caress a body in the dark like that."

"And the hair, the figure, everything from head to toe needs proper care. Men like their dolls to be exquisite."

Over the next few days, Olivia was constantly rehearsing her striptease performance in the dance studio. Although she had been dancing since childhood and had a solid foundation and great flexibility, some of the movements were embarrassingly difficult for her.

"Remember, be seductive but not vulgar. Men don't like cheap goods that are too easy to get," Justin said as he watched Olivia rehearse. "Yes, just like that. I guarantee you'll knock every man in New York off their feet on the night of the performance."

A few days before the show, the club released news of Olivia's upcoming performance with the headline, "The Innocent Star's First Performance." The notion of a pure yet sexy woman making her "first" appearance excited many men. On the evening of the performance, the club's parking lot was filled with a variety of luxury cars. Men of all ages, from their twenties to their sixties and seventies, dressed in sharp suits and polished shoes, stepped out of their cars. "Each one a wolf in sheep's clothing, a human-shaped animal that can't escape primitive desires," Olivia thought to herself as she watched the guests arrive from the second-floor balcony.

Zoe had heard that today was Olivia's performance day and specially came backstage to deliver a large bouquet of jasmine flowers. The white blooms stood out strikingly against the red decor, pure and lovely. Tucked among the flowers was a greeting card that read, "I know you've been going through a tough time recently. No matter what, my heart is with you." Olivia almost shed tears upon reading it, but fearing she would ruin her makeup, she quickly dabbed her eyes dry with a tissue.

Raised in comfort and respectability, Olivia never imagined she would find herself in such a place. But for her father, she was willing to set aside her pride.

The show began with a few veteran dancers warming up the crowd. Then it was Olivia's turn; she performed the classic Dita Von Teese champagne glass dance. The lighting was dim, highlighting only her graceful figure in the champagne glass-shaped chair. The previously lively audience suddenly fell quiet, completely enraptured by the performance. As the show concluded, Olivia posed for a bow and was met with a burst of applause. The audience members below began lifting up silver notes, a type of club currency used to tip the dancers on stage.

Backstage, Justin clapped his hands and said, "That was beautiful. If I were a man, I'd spend a fortune on her! Oh wait, I am a man." Olivia felt a huge sense of relief. She had been under a lot of pressure from the days of rehearsal and had been nervous just before the performance, but it turned out to be a great success. Backstage, she and Justin embraced excitedly.

"The night isn't over yet. Let's see if there's a wealthy young gentleman who is generous enough to ask for your company," Justin said. Olivia, feeling nervous, fiddled with the hem of her dress. "Is it just accompanying them for a drink? Would there be other things expected?" she asked.

"Other things are up to you. If you're interested, that's also an option," Justin said with a wink. Olivia shivered.

A waiter entered the dressing room and said, "A guest has offered a hundred thousand dollars if Olivia would join him for a drink."

"See, what did I tell you?" Justin excitedly slapped his thigh. "Old rule, we split all earnings fifty-fifty. Put on a good show, and the guest might even offer more."

Olivia nodded slightly, signifying her agreement. She was here to make money. Her goal was clear; nothing was more important than her father's life.

Following the waiter to a private room, she pushed open the door and was momentarily blinded by the bright lights. After closing her eyes for a few seconds, she could finally see clearly. There were four men sitting in the room. Two of them she didn't recognize; they appeared older and more maturely dressed. The other two she knew.

One, sporting a beard and wearing a dark purple floral shirt, was puffing on a cigar-her ex-boyfriend, Matthew. Sitting beside him, silently fiddling with a Claddagh ring on his finger and appearing indifferent to the surroundings, was the genius doctor, Adrian.

"Long time no see," Matt said, exhaling a smoke ring.