Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Damien

"Hey Olivia." I glance at the new interface to see if she's responding to my voice how she should. "How are you feeling today?" The neurologist insists I speak to her casually, as if we're catching up over coffee. But it's hard to maintain that kind of lightheartedness when I've sunk tens of millions of dollars into her recovery.

A few sparks flicker on the screen, confirming she's processing my words. Good. The attack didn't rob her brain of understanding. She just can't respond.

"I'm fine. Work is work," I tell her. "My girlfriend is living with me now. It's not official, but it's happening."

I fix my gaze on the monitor, willing there to be more activity so that she'll get the positive reinforcement she needs so she can progress quicker. "It's been an experience. I haven't shared my home with anyone since…well, you know when."

I lean in, checking for any signs of acknowledgment. "Being with her is surprisingly easy." Where this urge to share my life with Olivia comes from, I don't know, but it feels important. Maybe it's the way to reach her.

"Her name is Francesca, but everyone calls her Frankie."

My eyes flit to her face, and to my surprise, Olivia's lips curl slightly—just the faintest smile. A spark of recognition? Can it be?

There's another small flicker, but it's overshadowed by the pounding in my chest. I pull out my phone, feeling a rush of excitement. "Get up here now," I tell the neurologist I hired, my impatience now mixed with hope. I pace the room, glancing out at the ocean, then back to Olivia. If this little smile is a sign of progress, then I want to do everything in my power to nurture it.

"Mr. Wolfe." Dr. Craig Atkins appears, his expression friendly but concerned. "What's the matter?"

I turn, meeting his gaze, unable to hide my enthusiasm. "You can tell me if this is progressing as it should."

"I know how invested you are, Damien," he responds, trying to connect. "But I can't just snap my fingers and fix it. Olivia's been dormant for years. It'll take time to reignite those neural pathways." He steps closer, reassuring me with calm confidence. "But she hears you. She understands." He gestures to the brain activity indicators, explaining, "Look, she's responding here."

I turn to Olivia then back to the doctor. "Did you see her smile? That has to mean something!" My excitement might appear desperate, but I don't care. It feels monumental.

"It's a positive sign," he replies, nodding. "That's exactly the kind of engagement we're looking for. Progress won't be linear, but we can build on her responses."

For the first time in years, I have hope. Not just for Olivia, but the whole world. "Can we do anything to supercharge this?"

"No," he sighs. "I wish there was, but medically and technologically we're doing as much as we can. Perhaps you can talk to her more regularly?" He holds up both hands. "I know you are a very busy man, but maybe a few phone calls throughout the week to give her more positive stimuli to respond to."

I sigh heavily at his suggestion. It's something I've thought about recently I can't. "My conversations with my sister are private and I don't want anyone else listening."

"A problem with an easy solution. I work for you, not the facility, and we can time the calls if that will make you feel better. Five minutes to start and I'll stand in the hall to ensure your privacy."

I can't resist a problem solver, so I give his idea serious consideration, thinking about how I can make it work without risking the private details of my life becoming public. Dr. Atkins has an active non-disclosure agreement in place, which makes him ideal.

"Mr. Wolfe, I'm committed to doing whatever it takes to ensure the success of this groundbreaking research for Oliva and God only knows how many others."

I nod and promise to give it careful consideration. "I'll get back to you in a couple of days."

Turning back to Olivia, I force a smile. "Sorry," I say, though I know she has no clear way to respond. I lean down and press a soft kiss on her forehead, my heart heavy. "We'll talk again soon. I promise."

As I pull back, her lips twitch into that small smile again and a strange rush surges through me. It's overwhelming. The kind of excitement I can't quite explain. With one last hug, I leave the facility in a rush, hardly paying attention to the beautiful day outside or the intermittent ringing of my phone.

I drive straight back to work and head to my office without stopping to acknowledge anyone, not even Jess, as I shut myself inside and think about Olivia. She smiled. It's working.

I don't know how long I sit in front of my laptop, staring at the research until I have every word memorized. I go back and check on all the solutions we discarded along the way to see if any of them have any merit to the current application of the program.

Hours tick by as I immerse myself in problems and solutions to help Oliva. My ability to drown out distractions is why I thrive in the business world, and it's also why I navigate the darker paths at night. My focus becomes my sanctuary.

The research has taken years, so there's a lot to go through, but the purpose is my fuel. My desire to bring Olivia back to life, to let her become the woman she's meant to be, is what keeps me going. She deserves this.

My phone buzzes for what seems like the fiftieth time and with a growl of frustration, I pick it up and look at the screen.

Francesca: How's your day?

I chuckle at the question because it's yet another sign of our growing connection. It's disconcerting how easily I'm drawn to her. I know I need to respond, but I hesitate, flipping the phone face down to turn my attention back to work.

I finally find an interesting tether idea that might provide faster results causing no long-term damage to Olivia. That's the delicate balance we have to strike, results without causing further damage. "Fuck."

Just then, Jess taps lightly on the door before entering. "You haven't eaten anything all day," she says in a mother-like tone, one that always cuts through my focus.

"Not hungry."

"Nope, not accepting that. You need to eat, Damien." She sets a paper bag on my desk and twists open a bottle of water, forcing it into my hand. "I assume things aren't going quite as you planned with Olivia?"

"Things are actually better than ever," I say, drinking deeply as Jess stares at me. "Thanks," I say and set the bottle on my desk.

"Your brain needs fuel to function. Whatever you're hoping to achieve, you'll need energy."

Her insistence brings a smile to my lips. "I'm the boss, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You need to eat," she answers, a playful smirk on her face as she steps away. "It's after eight, so I'm heading home. Goodnight, Damien."

"Night," I call out, the bag forgotten for now as my focus drifts back to Olivia. My phone buzzes again—this time it's a missed call from Francesca, swiftly followed by another text.

Francesca: Are you coming home tonight?

Home.

The fact that she considers my penthouse home makes me feel something in my chest. I know my obsession with Francesca could end up being my own damn undoing. But this is more important.

I know I should answer her, but I don't because my focus right now has to be on Olivia. She's the reason this research exists, and it has to benefit her .

I stare at the message from Francesca, weighing my options.

To answer or not.

She deserves an answer.

Olivia has been the only woman in my life for so long that it's difficult thinking about another person above or equal to her place in my life.

I don't like feeling like this. It's fucking unnerving. My productivity is highest when I don't experience any emotions, whether it's frustration about Olivia's lack of progress or worry about Frankie's feelings.

I need some space.

I set the phone back down on my desk with the face down so I'm not tempted to answer. I'll make it up to Francesca later.

Or maybe this is just what I need to keep her off balance?

The thought isn't as appealing as it should be, but it gives me just enough motivation to dive into work, keeping my focus until the first rays of sunlight creep through the windows.