Aliyah

Who doesn’t know Oliver White? Everyone in this country, even a newborn baby, knows who Oliver White is.

And now it all began to make sense. The beautiful room, the chandelier that sparkled like captured starlight, the soft, expensive sheets that felt like clouds. The quiet power he carried, the way his very presence seemed to command the air around him, it wasn’t ordinary.

Oliver White is the richest bachelor in the world. A man who owned seventy percent of the businesses in this country and had his hands in countless more across the globe. A name that carried weight, fear, and admiration. People rarely saw him because he avoided social gatherings, and no photograph of him ever circulated. He was like a ghost wrapped in legend, feared, respected, untouchable.

And yet he is here, standing before me, helping me.

God… I didn't expect him to be this handsome. His looks alone could silence a room, and now that same man saved me.

My chest tightened, my heart hammering like it wanted to break free. I suddenly felt so small, so insignificant in his presence.

“Are you sure you are fine? Should I call the doctor?” His voice was soft, gentle, filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I believed myself. “I just… I just need to use the restroom.”

“Okay, let me help you.”

Before I could protest, he moved quickly, pulling the duvet away from me with care. His touch was gentle, protective as he helped me to my feet.

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper. My words felt inadequate compared to the storm inside me.

Why was he treating me like this? Why did it scare me that someone like him, a man untouchable, powerful, and feared, was showing me kindness?

But then I was shocked with embarrassment when I turned and saw the bedsheets stained. My blood, dark against the blinding white.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Shame, raw and consuming, clawed through me. I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole.

“I’m so sorry, sir, let me... ” I bent quickly, desperate to hide the evidence of my humiliation.

But before I could touch it, his hand caught mine, firm yet gentle.

“What are you doing? And why are you apologizing?” His eyes locked on mine, steady, unyielding.

“Uhm…” My voice broke into a whisper, my throat tightening with embarrassment. “For… for staining the sheets.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, just looked at me. And then, with a softness that made my heart ache, he said, “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

The words hit me harder than I expected, filled with kindness and understanding. Things I hadn’t received for so long. My eyes stung with unshed tears.

“I will have the maids clean it up,” he added, his tone calm and certain. “So just… go and freshen up.”

I swallowed hard, my chest trembling with emotions I couldn’t name. For the first time in years, I felt a fragile piece of dignity slowly stitching itself back together under the warmth of his words.

He wasn’t looking at me like I was disgusting. He wasn’t looking at me like I was worthless. He was looking at me like I was… human.

I looked around the giant room, my eyes searching for something that looked like a door, but there was nothing. My heart sank a little.

“Oh, sorry. Let me show you the bathroom,” Oliver said, noticing my confusion. His voice was calm, patient. “Can you walk? Or… should I carry you?”

For a second, I froze. Carry me?

Am I dreaming?

Even Liam, the man I gave up everything for, has never once offered me that kind of care.

“No… I can walk. Thank you,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Oliver gave a small nod and stepped to the side wall. He pressed something, and to my shock, the wall itself slid open like magic.

My lips parted in awe. Goodness, so this is the door?

“Can you freshen up by yourself, or should I call one of the maids to help you?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

My cheeks burned. “I can do it myself,” I said quickly.

“Alright. But if you need anything, there is an intercom phone in the bathroom. You can use it to call me or one of the maids.”

A phone? In the bathroom? My mind spun with disbelief.

What kind of life is this man living?

“Thank you,” I muttered, before walking inside.

The door slid shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall for support. My body was still weak, every step heavy. When I finally lifted my eyes, my mouth gaped in admiration.

Goodness… is this a bathroom or a royal palace?

The bathroom was enormous, bigger than the entire living room of the house I once called mine. The walls glowed with marble and gold accents that shimmered under soft lights. A bathtub, shaped like a jewel, sat in the center, its rims plated in gold. The sink was wide and elegant, with built-in dryers that hummed softly. Racks lined with neatly arranged skincare products, rare shampoos, and soaps I only saw in magazines filled the room. The air smelled of roses and fresh lavender.

My eyes fell on the intercom phone, sleek and white, sitting neatly in its holder by the mirror. It looked too beautiful, too expensive, like it belonged in another world.

I swallowed hard and slowly removed the gown I was given. My chest tightened when I saw the stains of blood on it.

It looked expensive for someone like me. I folded it carefully. "I will wash it later," I told myself.

Then, with trembling fingers, I removed the pad that was soaked with blood. The sight of it broke me all over again. My knees nearly gave way as the truth hit me like a knife.

The blood was not just blood. It was proof, proof of the child I lost. The miracle they took away from me.

“Liam… Catherine… Sarah…” My voice cracked as tears streamed down my face. “You will all pay for this.”

I placed the pad in the trash can and turned toward the sink. But just then, the phone on the wall rang, startling me.

Quickly, I turned on the basin faucet and rinsed my hands. The basin itself had a built-in dryer, so I pressed the button, feeling warm air brush against my palms. My heart pounded as I reached for the phone.

“Hello?” My voice was barely steady.

“Hey,” Oliver’s voice came through, deep and gentle. “Are you okay? Are you sure you don’t need anyone to help you there?”

My heart thudded so loudly I thought he might hear it. His concerns sounded really genuine… I’m fine,” I whispered.

“Alright,” he said softly. “But just drop your clothes anywhere you like. The maids will take care of them.”

I froze, my eyes darting to the gown in my hands.

How… How did he know what I was thinking?

My fingers tightened around the phone as my pulse raced. “O-okay,” I muttered.

I placed the phone back in its holder and pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the storm inside me.

How did he know? I was just thinking of washing the gown when I was done, and yet he spoke as if he could read my thoughts.

My lips trembled.

“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” I whispered into the golden silence of the bathroom.