Olivia's POV
My question about Olivia seemed to have a strange calming effect on Maxwell. The fight went out of him like air from a punctured balloon, and he slowly settled back into the hospital bed, though his jaw remained tightly clenched. But instead of the explosion I'd expected, he simply turned his face away from me and stared at the wall with cold, distant eyes.
The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. I pulled my chair closer to his bedside, unsure what to say after dropping such a bombshell. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
After what felt like an eternity, Maxwell mumbled without looking at me, "You don't have to stay."
"I want to," I said softly. "You're sick, and…"
"Just leave, Oliver." His voice was flat and emotionless. "Go to the conference. That's what I brought you here for, isn't it? To take notes. So go handle my business. I don't want you here."
