Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 432 -

*Olivia*

Three months had passed since summer came and went, and my first year in Florence had also come to an end. It was hard to believe how much had transpired in just a single year, especially considering how different things were now. I found myself married to a wonderful man whom I loved dearly, and we were expecting an adorable baby.

I should have been overjoyed.

If only my baby wasn't growing inside another woman's womb.

My reservations about Elena continued to escalate as the months went by. Her stomach began to swell, and she quickly started complaining about various symptoms. I had to set aside my suspicions for the time being because her struggle with morning sickness had left her in need of help more than ever. I spent many days kneeling in the bathroom with her, holding her hair back as she vomited into the bowl. Though it was unpleasant, I was determined to be there for her. But I was also cautious. Her immediate instinct was to ask Gio for help, and more often than not, he obliged, wanting to be of assistance in any way he could. When she asked to spend the night at our house due to her sickness, much to my surprise, he easily agreed, even allowing her to claim the guest room right next to ours.

It bothered me whenever I woke up in the middle of the night only to replace Gio making tea for her in the kitchen. I knew he was merely being kind, but it didn't alleviate the tension of our complicated situation.

Her fatigue was another symptom she frequently experienced, often feeling dizzy or lethargic, particularly when Gio was around. After she fell into his arms for the third time, I made sure to position myself between her and Gio at all times. Surprisingly, her fatigue improved soon after.

It seemed that Gio was determined to spoil her. When her feet began to swell, he bought her ten pairs of new shoes. When she complained about grocery prices, he made sure her fridge was filled with whatever she craved that day. I firmly put my foot down when she complained about her breasts swelling, and he wanted to buy her an entire new wardrobe of maternity bras. Instead, Dahlia and I went shopping, ensuring he wouldn't be involved in picking out her underwear. Unfortunately, they always seemed to replace themselves in awkward positions when I wasn't around to act as a buffer, and it quickly grew tiresome. Even though there was no sexual aspect to their interactions, I still felt uneasy about each borderline-inappropriate moment.

As the pregnancy progressed, I could sense a growing rift between Gio and me. The small moments piled up, leaving us on opposite ends. Ever since Gio had noticed the little bump on Elena's stomach, it seemed as though all his suspicions had vanished. He insisted he was focused on taking care of the baby, not Elena, and whenever I brought up my concerns, he reminded me of that. But I couldn't shake my discomfort.

There was a delicate balance of trust and emotional boundaries, and Elena was quickly trampling over ours. Our nights were now spent in silence, with Gio increasingly spending more hours in his office doing who knows what. The rift between us felt more like an insurmountable chasm, emitting toxic fumes that fueled my jealousy and insecurity to the maximum.

The sky was sunny, complemented by the cool breeze brushing against my skin. The garden was transitioning into shades of red and orange, signaling the arrival of autumn. But I found no enjoyment in the pleasant weather. The shade from the umbrella on the porch table made the area even colder, which suited my mood just fine, even if my bare toes were starting to feel numb.

Resentfully, I glared at the two figures touring the garden-my husband's broad shoulders and the petite figure beside him. Elena smiled and beamed as Giovani pointed out various flowers and trees, explaining their significance. It was a request he couldn't refuse from Elena.

She giggled, too far away for me to hear, but I observed as she leaned closer to him, placing her hand on his arm. One would think he would push her away, even gently, but no, he didn't even seem to notice, simply leading her to the next set of flowers.

I tightened my grip around the cold glass I was sipping, grinding my teeth as I slurped up the liquid through the straw. He smiled, and in my mind, I knew it was the same polite smile he bestowed upon everyone, but at this point, my brain couldn't comprehend that. I couldn't fully trust his intentions anymore, especially when he allowed her to lean on him like that.

It was difficult to convince myself that their relationship didn't extend beyond the agreed arrangement. He had promised to distance himself from Elena, but as soon as her pregnancy became evident, those promises evaporated. He probably spent more time with her than with me at this point. And damn if that didn't stab me in the heart.

I never took my eyes off the two, even as I heard flip-flops approaching behind me. Dahlia collapsed into the chair beside me, sighing. Sweat glistened on her skin, and she brushed a hand through her damp hair, tying it back into a ponytail. "Geez, it's hot today," Dahlia huffed, fanning her face with her hand. Her gaze fell upon my cold drink, and she grinned. "Hey, can I have a sip?"

"Go ahead," I grumbled, pushing the drink toward her.

She leaned forward, bypassing the straw and taking a gulp directly from the cup. I flinched as she immediately spat out the contents, coughing as if she had swallowed poison.

"What the fuck is that?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, giving me a horrified look.

"Spirytus," I shrugged, grabbing the cup back from her and taking a long drink through the straw. The horror in her eyes spoke volumes, and ordinarily, I would have reassured her that I wasn't actually consuming ninety-six percent alcohol in the middle of the day. But I wasn't in the mood to lie.

"Why the fuck are you drinking one of the strongest vodkas at two in the afternoon?" She glared at me, crossing her arms as if scolding a misbehaving child.

"I put strawberries in it," I defended myself. I had thought that the natural sweetness of the fruit could counterbalance the intense burning taste, not unlike swallowing a gallon of gasoline and a lit match afterward. Clearly, it didn't work.

"Where did you even replace Spirytus, Olive? That stuff is nasty!" Dahlia scolded me, staring at me expectantly. "Giovani's liquor cabinet," I replied simply.

He believed he had kept the stash a secret, but I knew better. Maybe it was spiteful of me, but I had gradually been depleting his alcohol supply, starting with his favorites, even if I didn't enjoy the taste of them. I had discovered the Spirytus tucked away in the very back, unopened. He hadn't noticed, particularly after Elena suggested he stop drinking for the sake of the baby, and he agreed. Well, if he wasn't going to drink it, I would.

Before Dahlia could scold me further, laughter echoed through the garden, and I spotted Elena delicately placing a beautiful white flower in my husband's suit pocket. Her hand lingered on his chest a bit too long.

I glared at them with a murderous gaze, biting my lip as a wave of seething anger engulfed me. Whether it was the effect of the vodka or my own rage, I couldn't tell, but I continued to drink, hoping that somehow it would neutralize these feelings.

"You're not going to do something about it?" Dahlia asked, giving me a questioning look.

"What's the point?" I snapped sourly. "He's just showing her the garden, that's all. It doesn't mean anything. You're overreacting. We have to take care of the baby, Dolly."

Dahlia flinched, her eyes widening at the venom in my words. The nickname I'd given her all those years ago tasted bitter as it left my lips, and even though I knew I sounded like an angry, jealous woman, I couldn't stop myself. I was fed up with this situation.

"Olive," Dahlia called softly, but I intentionally ignored her, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. "You know Gio loves you, don't you?"

Of course, I knew that, logically.

He wouldn't have married me or spent the last year of his life with me, begging me to stay when I was on the verge of leaving, if he didn't love me. Everything he had said and done indicated his love for me, and deep down, I knew it. But deep down wasn't enough. I loved him so much it hurt, yet every night I lay alone in bed, waiting for him to come back, my heart shattered with each tender touch he bestowed upon her, whether intentional or not.

His priority was the well-being of the baby, and that meant keeping Elena happy. I understood that. I could comprehend it.

But it didn't mean I had to accept it.

It didn't mean that I wasn't tormented every time she ended up in his arms, no matter how much I tried to intervene. Excuses could only go so far, and even if I warned her or him, it never made a difference.

His heart had softened toward her because of the baby, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was falling for her because of it.

Jealousy and insecurity tore my heart apart, eroding the trust and kindness that Gio claimed to love about me, leaving only bitterness in their wake.

That's why I sat here in the shade, hiding in the shadows while they strolled around the garden. That's why I was consuming vodka far too strong for me at two o'clock in the afternoon, glaring at my husband and the surrogate carrying our baby as if they were possessed by the devil, instead of engaging in a normal conversation like the mature adult I pretended to be.

He loved me. It was easy for Dahlia to say, attempting to comfort me with soothing words, but I couldn't force a smile and believe it anymore.

My eyes narrowed as Elena stumbled forward, and Giovani's arms enveloped her, preventing her from falling. She gazed up at him, a radiant smile on her face, and though I couldn't see his expression from this angle, I could only imagine him smiling back.

Just like he used to do with me.

I snorted, grabbing my cup and finishing off the vodka before slamming it down forcefully. The table shook, and Dahlia startled, her features displaying surprise. She looked at me, concern etched on her face, but the vodka had done its job of numbing me.

"Tell him that," I snapped indignantly before rising to my feet and walking away.

I didn't turn back, even as Dahlia called my name.

The chasm between us grew wider.