RISE OF OLIVER WILSON

Chapter 04

By the time Emma got home, her family were already seated comfortably in the living room, along with her mother, Victoria, who rose to her feet as Emma and Oliver entered.

“Emma?” Victoria’s icy blue eyes locked onto her daughter, her voice abrupt with suspicion. “Why are you back so early? Weren’t you supposed to be catching up and having fun at the party tonight?”

Emma hesitated, clutching her handbag tightly. She glanced at Oliver, who avoided her gaze, offering her no regard.

“We… we finished early,” Emma muttered, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Victoria tilted her head. “Finished early? Really? With all that party you mentioned? Or did something else happen?”

Patrick, Emma’s older brother, lounged on the couch, tossing a small keychain in the air. “Let’s not waste time with her excuses, Mother. She probably couldn’t stand being away from her good-for-nothing husband over there.” He smirked, his gaze settling mockingly on Oliver.

Emma shot him a glare. “Patrick, stop it.”

Patrick leaned back, unfazed. “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Poor Oliver here probably begged you to come back. Right, Oliver? Couldn’t handle one night alone?”

“That’s enough, Patrick,” Emma snapped as her voice rose.

Before Patrick could reply, Mr. Robert, Emma’s stepfather, shouted in his deep voice carrying a manner of disdain. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been crying all night. Always acting like he belongs here in this family when he clearly doesn’t.”

Oliver greased his palm at the comment but said nothing.

Claire, Emma’s cousin, wrinkled her nose as she leaned against the wall. “Honestly, this place is even worse than I imagined. I don’t know how you put up with it, Emma.”

Leah, Emma’s younger sister, popped her gum loudly, glancing around with a bored expression. “And to think It’s so smelly.”

“Shut your mouth,” Emma scolded her sister.

But Aunt Margot wasn’t done. She sniffed disdainfully, folding her arms. “I hope you’re not expecting us to sleep here.”

Oliver’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm.

Victoria stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at him. “So, Oliver, did you sign the papers yet? Or are you still clinging to the foolish idea that this marriage can be salvaged?”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Oliver. He looked at Emma briefly before lowering his head. “Yes, I signed them.”

Victoria clapped her hands, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. “Well, finally! Emma, dear, you’ve made the right choice. Patrick, bring out the champagne. This calls for a celebration.”

Patrick grinned as he stood. “With pleasure, Mother. It’s not every day we celebrate cutting off dead weight.”

Emma glared at her family, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “This isn’t a celebration! Stop treating this like some kind of victory.”

Victoria ignored her and turned back to Oliver. “Well, don’t just stand there like a statue. Pack your things and leave. Or are you waiting for us to help you?”

Oliver went to the bedroom and began packing his belongings into a small, worn duffle bag. He moved slowly, each item feeling like a piece of himself being stripped away.

The door burst open, and Patrick and Mr. Robert walked in, their faces filled with malice.

“Done packing yet, Oliver?” Patrick sneered, crossing his arms. “We’re here to make sure you don’t steal anything on your way out.”

Oliver turned to face them, his voice calm but firm. “I haven’t taken anything that doesn’t belong to me.”

“Yeah, right,” Patrick mocked. He lunged forward, grabbing the bag from Oliver’s hands and tossing it onto the floor.

“Let’s see what’s in here,” Mr. Robert said coldly, crouching down and pulling out Oliver’s neatly folded clothes. He inspected them like they were contraband.

“Leave my stuff alone,” Oliver declared, stepping closer.

Patrick shoved him back roughly. “Stay out of the way, Oliver. And don’t you fucking raise your voice on my step dad.”

When Oliver tried to step forward again, Mr. Robert grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall. “You don’t listen, do you?”

Patrick smirked and landed a punch to Oliver’s stomach, causing him to double over in pain.

“That’s for wasting my sister’s time,” Patrick spat.

Mr. Robert followed with a slap across Oliver’s face, then another punch that sent him sprawling onto the bed.

“Get up!” Mr. Robert barked. “You’re not staying here another second.”

Oliver struggled to his feet, his face bruised and he struggled to breath.

Emma appeared at the door, horrified. “Stop it! What are you doing?!”

“This doesn’t concern you, Emma,” Victoria said from behind her, dragging her back. “Let the men handle it.”

Emma broke free and rushed to Oliver’s side, shielding him. “You’ve done enough! Just let him leave!”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let him go. He’s not worth the effort anyway.”

Mr. Robert grabbed Oliver by the arm and dragged him toward the door.

“Don’t come back,” Mr. Robert warned as he shoved Oliver outside, slamming the door behind him.

Bruised and battered, Oliver jumped on his bicycle and rode through the quiet streets, the night air cool against his skin. His mind raced with thoughts of the last three years—of sacrifices, love, and heartbreak.

He arrived at the small grocery store where he worked as a cleaner and used his pass to enter the building. The storage room at the back was cramped, but it would suffice for the night.

Sitting on a pile of boxes, Oliver took the wedding band out of his pocket and stared at it. It was a symbol of a love that had once meant everything to him, but now it felt like a weight he couldn’t shake off.

He thought of his family, of the home he’d left behind to build a life with Emma. He could return—he knew they would welcome him back with open arms.

“I’ll make sure they all pay for what they did to me,” he whispered to himself. “And when I return, I’ll prove to everyone that I’m more than what they see.”

With that thought, he leaned back against the wall, clutching the ring tightly in his hand, and drifted into a restless sleep.