Goodbye Forever Ex-Husband (by Ammund) novel Chapter 164

Chapter 164

OLIVIA’S POV

Knock. Knock.

The sound pulled me out of sleep slowly, like a fog lifting. It was soft but persistent–probably the fourth knock by now, maybe even the fifth. Whoever was at the door clearly had no plans of giving up. I buried my head deeper into the soft pillows, groaning.

You honestly couldn’t blame me for sleeping in. The bed in this room was ridiculous. The mattress swallowed me like a cloud, the sheets smooth as hell, and the fluffy comforter weighed just enough to trap me in a cocoon of bliss. The room was quiet, the air–conditioned hum soft and steady. I hadn’t meant to sleep this long. I’d picked up the book I bought yesterday, planning to read just a chapter or two–and the next thing I knew, the sun was up and someone was trying to break down my door with polite knocking.

I blinked slowly, pushing myself upright, and reached over to pick up the book. A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips. It had been a while since I got so lost in fiction. I slid the book into the drawer of the nightstand, then stretched, yawning, arching my back until I heard it pop. The digital clock beside the bed flashed the time at me: 9:43 AM. Well… not too late. Sort of.

My eyes took in the room again, the crystal chandelier hanging above, and the massive walk–in closet I hadn’t even fully explored yet. Every inch of this place screamed. Dad really went all out.

“Come in,” I called out finally, voice still a bit groggy.

The door creaked open a second later, and a maid stepped in gracefully, a silver tray balanced in her hands. Breakfast, obviously.

“Good morning, ma’am,” she greeted me with a respectful nod.

“You can place that there,” I said, motioning toward the center table just at the foot of the bed.

She set it down carefully before straightening and stepping training will begin.”

closer to my side. “Your personal assistant, Clara, said once you’re done with breakfast,

I tried not to roll my eyes too obviously, offering her a tight–lipped smile instead. “Alright, thank you.”

She bowed slightly and exited the room with quiet, practiced steps.

I sighed the moment the door shut behind her. This ‘training‘ was already starting to feel a little too serious for my taste. Who starts a business training session like it’s military boot camp? It wasn’t like I was studying for final exams. Clara needed to loosen up. I could’ve used a welcome brunch or maybe some lounging by the pool first–not this classroom energy she was pushing.

After brushing my teeth and taking a quick but satisfying hot shower, I returned to the food–eggs, toast, fruit, and freshly squeezed orange juice. The maid must’ve brought this from the main kitchen, which probably looked like a professional restaurant setup. Everything tasted amazing, but I didn’t linger too long. Clara clearly wasn’t the type to appreciate lateness.

I made my way down the grand staircase, walking past art pieces that looked like they belonged in a museum. When I finally reached the designated hall, my steps slowed.

Of course, this mansion had a hall. It could probably fit a stadium in the backyard if Dad wanted it to.

I pushed open the double doors and stepped in.

What I saw next made me stop for a second.

Clara sat on a single chair

at the front of the hall, a whiteboard behind her already filled with diagrams, bullet points, and what looked like a full lesson- plan. She wore a fitted blazer, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, and–was that a cane in her hand?

A literal cane.

19.04

Jun

Chapter 164

Like some old–school headmistress.

Was this a business training session or the first day of reform school?

I raised an eyebrow and walked in further, arms folded.

“Correct,” she answered with a sharp nod, her tone brisk and no–nonsense.

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she walked right up to me, heels clicking authoritatively on the polished floor. Without a word, she used the cane to gently push against my back, straightening my posture.

I blinked, surprised by the sudden physical correction. “No,” I replied quietly, watching her as she began to slowly circle me like a hawk observing prey. My head turned, following her movements.

“Yesterday, when I walked into that room,” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “I noticed the way you looked at me. I’m sure in your mind, you were thinking I walked in too proudly, like I thought I owned the place.”

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