Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 238: Deserve To Know.

Olivia’s POV

The moment Lennox took the handkerchief from me, I spun around and walked away before I did something reckless. Luckily, he didn’t call me back. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done if he had.

I returned to my room, closed the door behind me, and let out a long, shaky breath. Dropping onto the bed, I pressed my palms to my face.

How much longer can I keep this up?

How much longer can I pretend to be someone else—someone I’m not?

Before I could gather my thoughts, the door creaked open. Damien stepped inside with a familiar scowl on his face.

"What you did at the table," he said sternly, "should never happen again."

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. I just stared past him at the wall.

He stood silently for a moment, then added, "You should get ready. We’re attending the first funeral ritual."

My head snapped toward him. "Hell no," I snapped, my voice sharp. "You expect me to stand there and watch while they perform a funeral service for me when I’m still alive?"

Damien’s eyes darkened with frustration. He stepped closer, towering over me. "You don’t have a choice," he said coldly. "You’re no longer Olivia. You’re Rebecca. And you’re my wife now. So act like one. You have ten minutes. Be downstairs."

He left before I could say another word.

Shaking, I forced myself up and went to the wardrobe. My fingers trembled as I pulled out a white gown.

I dressed quickly and made my way downstairs, my heart thudding in my chest. Damien was already waiting by the entrance. He didn’t speak, just gestured for me to follow him.

We walked through the corridor in silence, and then stepped out into the garden where the ceremony was being held.

in me

My photos—everywhere.

white cloth draped from the trees, candles flickering in soft circles. A large framed photo of me stood at the center of the altar, with a golden

pack was gathered—dressed in white, heads bowed, lips trembling. Some

a few feet

The triplets.

in ceremonial white. All

blank, but his eyes told a

tightly, jaw clenched

covered his mouth, like if

I stood there frozen.

love me like

it take losing me

chant, starting the first funeral ritual. Everyone lowered their heads, murmuring

I couldn’t join

was going cold. The weight of it all, watching people mourn

swayed slightly on

Then everything spun.

face turning

And then darkness.

feel of stone beneath my palms. My lashes fluttered as I tried to move, only to realize I was lying on

had stopped. Murmurs filled the air. Somewhere in the blur, I heard Damien’s

voice low but sharp enough to sting. "But you insisted,

my throat was dry, my tongue stuck to the

Darling," he said, faking a concern that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at someone I couldn’t

at him that none of this was normal—that none of this was

was behind him.

an arm under my knees and the other behind my back. His grip was strong, almost gentle, but there was no warmth in