Chapter 104: Chapter 104
Olivia’s POV
"What the hell, Hopton? What did you hit me for?"
I stuttered, my heart racing as I tried to make my voice sound deeper. "You... you were grabbing me in your sleep."
His expression immediately shifted to mortification. "Shit. I’m sorry, I... I..." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Maybe you should use the couch after all."
"Yeah," I agreed quickly, relief flooding through me. "I think that would be better."
"Go ahead then," he said, already turning away and cuddling himself under the sheets.
I gathered a few pillows and made my way to the couch, grateful for the distance. But sleep didn’t come easily. Every sound Maxwell made - the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed frame, even his steady breathing - kept me on edge. I tossed and turned on the couch, my disguise feeling more suffocating with each passing hour.
When I finally drifted off, it was a fitful, restless sleep filled with anxiety dreams about my wig falling off in front of a large crowd, and people discovering my secret.
The next morning, I opened my eyes to see Maxwell already standing over me, his hands on his hips, fully dressed in a crisp suit.
"About time you woke up, Hopton," he greeted me.
I was appalled to find that I was inappropriately positioned. I was laid back down with one of my legs flung over the cushion, my hands hanging in the air, and my pajamas slightly falling off my shoulders. My trousers had also rolled up, showing off my fair delicate legs.
I immediately scrambled up, nearly panicking when I realized I was supposed to have woken up earlier to prepare before Maxwell could see me like this.
"Sorry, sorry!" I muttered, running toward the bathroom. "I’ll be ready in five minutes!"
It was when I got inside that I realized I needed my suitcase. Damn it. I’d have to go back out there again.
I cracked open the door slightly, shocked to see that Maxwell’s eyes were trained directly on the bathroom door. He was standing exactly where I’d left him, arms crossed, watching like some kind of villain from a horror movie.
I made the sign of the cross before opening the door fully and running toward my suitcase while apologizing profusely.
"Sorry, sorry, just need my things, sorry about the delay, sorry..."
I rolled the suitcase into the bathroom, still apologizing even as Maxwell’s eyes tracked my every frantic movement.
Realizing I didn’t have time to shower, I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face before hurrying to reapply my disguise.
When I was done, I got dressed in a sharp brown suit that I hoped would make me look less crazy and more confident.
Finally, I was ready. I hurried out, apologizing yet again as Maxwell shook his head and led the way out of the room.
"Stop apologizing, Hopton," he said as we walked down the hotel corridor. "Other people will also think you’re crazy. It’s okay if I’m the only one that knows of that particular detail."
I tried to compose myself, focusing on deepening my voice and keeping my stride confident as we made our way toward the elevator.
********
The conference hall was massive and filled with about three hundred people, all conversing and flowing with themselves.
"Registration first," Maxwell said, steering me toward a table marked ’Corporate Law Division.’ "Please don’t embarrass me."
The woman behind the registration desk looked up with a smile. "Name?"
"Oliver Hopton," I said, grateful that my voice came out steady and deep.
She scanned her list, then handed me a badge and a thick program booklet. "First time at the National Legal Conference, Mr. Hopton?"
"Yes, ma’am."
"Well, you’re in for a treat. The keynote speaker this morning is Judge Cassandra Lance - she’s legendary. And this afternoon we have breakout sessions on everything from international mergers to criminal defense strategies."
Maxwell collected his own materials and guided me away from the table.
We found seats in the middle section of the auditorium meant for the top bosses. I was just starting to relax and prepare my writing materials when I noticed a tall beautiful woman approaching us.
"Maxwell! I should have known you’d be here," she said, extending her hand. "And who’s this handsome young man?"
Oh God, please don’t tell me she wants to flirt with me.
"Diana, meet Oliver Hopton, my personal assistant. Oliver, Diane." Maxwell introduced us.
Diana extended her hand towards me, and I noticed how she lingered far too long. "Oliver Hopton... so you work for Wellington and sons. That’s a big deal."
I smiled like a man should. "Yes, ma’am it is."
"I’ve always wanted to work there. It’s been a long time dream of mine. But Mr. Bigshot right here doesn’t want to dissolve the rules against hiring woman." She sighed, a faraway look in her eyes.
"You know it’s been in the family for ages, Diane. I cannot just change the rules that easily." Maxwell explained.
"You can if you want to, Max." Turning to me, she smiled again, clearly not wanting to continue that conversation. "So, Hopton, what do you say about dinner tonight?"
"He’d be glad to join you." Maxwell supplied quickly before I could even form the words to decline.
What! Why the hell did he do that.
"Great. I’ll come find you by 6 PM. Don’t keep a lady waiting." She winked and sauntered away.
I stared after her in horror. Hell na, I’m not doing that.
Just then, the lights dimmed and Judge Lance took the stage.
She was a small woman with black and gray hair and the kind of presence that made the entire auditorium fall silent. When she spoke, her voice carried to every corner of the room without need for amplification.
"Good morning, counselors. Today I want to talk about the art of cross-examination, and why most of you are terrible at it."
The audience chuckled nervously.
"Last week, I watched a prosecutor spend forty-five minutes trying to get a witness to admit something that was already in evidence. Forty-five minutes!"
I leaned forward, completely absorbed, and taking everything down.
"The key to effective cross-examination is not to ask the question you want answered. It’s to ask the question that can only be answered the way you need it to be answered."
She delved into a series of examples, explaining each one to perfection.
"Now," Judge Lance said, scanning the audience, "I need a volunteer. Someone brave enough to demonstrate the wrong way to cross-examine a witness."
The auditorium fell dead silent.
"Come now, don’t be shy. How about..." Her eyes swept the room and landed directly on me. "You, young man in the brown suit."
The blood drained from my face.
"Me?" I squeaked, then quickly lowered my voice. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Come on up. What’s your name?"
I stood on unsteady legs, my mind completely blank. "Oliver. Oliver Hopton."