RISE OF OLIVER WILSON

Chapter 08

Victoria Taylor lounged in the center of her pristine living room, bathed in the soft afternoon glow filtering through sheer curtains. Her home was a study in controlled elegance—glass and marble surfaces gleamed under the sunlight, while designer furniture was arranged with precision. Not a single item was out of place, a testament to her obsession with appearances.

Her TV was on and the soft murmurs of a soap opera filled the room, accompanied by the occasional dramatic gasp from the characters on the screen. Victoria held a half-empty glass of Merlot, her manicured fingers absently swirling the wine. She smirked as the main character slapped her cheating husband.

“Finally,” she muttered to herself, taking a small sip. “About time she grew a spine.”

Her phone vibrated on the coffee table, the subtle hum breaking the tranquility. Victoria glanced at the caller ID, her expression tightening when she saw Emma’s name. She let it buzz for a few seconds before picking it up with a deliberately slow motion.

“What is it, Emma?” Victoria asked, her tone clipped and impatient. “I’m watching something important.”

“Mom…” Emma hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s about Oliver.”

Victoria rolled her eyes, leaning back against the cushions. “Of course, it is,” she said, dragging out the words. “What has that man-child done now?”

Emma took a shaky breath on the other end. “He’s been arrested.”

For a moment, Victoria froze, though her face betrayed no emotion. She straightened slightly, her brow arching. “Arrested? For what?”

“They’re saying he stole money from his boss… from Grant’s grocery store,” Emma explained, her voice faltering.

Victoria let out a dry laugh, swirling her wine again. “Stole money? How poetic. I always said he was useless. I’m surprised he didn’t end up in this situation sooner.” She shook her head. “And here you were, so desperate to throw your life away for him.”

“Mom, you don’t know that he actually did it,” Emma said, a hint of frustration creeping into her tone. “What if he’s innocent?”

“Innocent?” Victoria repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. She stood and walked over to the window, gazing out at the perfectly manicured garden. “Emma, do you hear yourself? Innocent or not, it doesn’t matter. The fact is, this is the perfect opportunity to sever ties with that man once and for all.”

Emma sighed audibly. “You can’t just write him off like that. He—”

Victoria turned away from the window, cutting her off. “Like what, Emma? Like the dead weight he is? Don’t be naïve. Oliver Wilson is a failure, and he always will be. You married a man with no wealth, no ambition, and no future. Frankly, you’re lucky it took this long for his true colors to show.”

Emma was silent for a moment, and Victoria used the pause to take another sip of her wine.

“I don’t know, Mom,” Emma said finally, her voice softer now. “I just… I feel bad. He doesn’t have anyone else.”

“And whose fault is that?” Victoria asked sharply, walking back to the sofa. She placed her glass on the coffee table with a sharp clink. “Oliver alienated himself from his family. He chose to leave them behind for you, and look where that got him. If he has no one now, that’s his own doing—not yours.”

Emma’s silence lingered, and Victoria pressed her advantage.

“Listen to me, Emma,” she said, her voice firm and commanding. “You need to focus on your future. Paulo is the man you should be thinking about—successful, influential, everything Oliver isn’t. And he’s willing to give you a life most people can only dream of. Do you really want to throw that away for someone like Oliver?”

“Paulo’s not perfect either,” Emma muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

Victoria’s expression hardened. “And yet he’s a thousand times better than Oliver,” she snapped. “Don’t let your misplaced guilt cloud your judgment. Get the divorce finalized, and move on with your life. You’ll thank me later.”

Emma sighed again, this time more deeply. “I’ll handle it,” she said reluctantly.

“Good,” Victoria replied, her tone softening slightly. “And Emma… don’t call me again about Oliver. He’s not worth your time—or mine.”

Without waiting for a response, Victoria ended the call and placed the phone on the table. She sat back, crossing her legs and picking up her wine again. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the muted television screen, though her thoughts were elsewhere.

She replayed Emma’s hesitant tone in her mind, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Sentimental fool,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Meanwhile, Emma sat at the small dining table in her apartment, staring blankly at her phone. The call had left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she couldn’t shake the knot of guilt tightening in her chest.

Her mind raced with memories of Oliver—their late-night conversations in college, his quiet determination to make her happy, the way he’d always believed in their love, even when her family didn’t.

But those memories were clouded now, overshadowed by the reality of their marriage—the fights, the financial struggles, the widening chasm between their worlds.

Emma rubbed her temples, letting out a frustrated sigh. She grabbed her jacket and keys, deciding that some fresh air might clear her head.

Back at the Taylor house, Victoria was far from finished.

As she muted the soap opera again, she turned her attention to the small stack of papers on the side table—Emma’s divorce documents. Her fingers brushed over the crisp edges as she picked them up, flipping through the pages with practiced precision.

“Once this is done,” she murmured to herself, “we’ll finally be rid of him.”

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her thoughts. This time, it was Paulo. Victoria smirked, answering with a smooth, practiced tone.

“Paulo, darling,” she said. “How are things on your end?”

The man’s deep voice came through the line, though it carried a hint of irritation. “Is Emma doing what she needs to?”

“She’ll get it done,” Victoria replied confidently. “Don’t worry about her.”

“I hope you’re right,” Paulo said, his tone still clipped.

“Trust me,” Victoria said, her voice honeyed but firm. “Emma might have her doubts, but she’ll do what’s necessary. And if she doesn’t…” Her voice trailed off, her meaning clear.

Paulo chuckled dryly. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

“Smart man,” Victoria said with a smile, ending the call.

She set the phone down and leaned back, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Everything was falling into place.

But as she reached for her wine glass again, her eyes drifted to the family portrait on the mantle. It showed a younger Victoria, Robert, Emma, Patrick, and Leah—all smiles and unity. For a brief moment, a flicker of regret crossed her face.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“Sentimental fool,” she muttered again, finishing the last sip of her wine.