His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 220: Olive's Pov

I pulled up to Walter's house with my stomach in knots.

Not because seeing him still hurt—that wound had scabbed over years ago, turned into something dull and manageable.

But because I knew what I'd find inside.

My mother. Broken. In the house of the man who'd left us both behind.

I killed the engine and forced myself out of the car, walking up the pathway to the front door.

Walter opened it before I could knock, his face scrunched up with concern.

"She's in the living room," he said quietly. "She hasn't said anything. Just sitting there crying."

I nodded and pushed past him without responding.

The second I walked into the living room, I saw her.

Diane sat on the couch with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, looking so completely destroyed it made my chest tightened at the sight.

This wasn't about Walter this time. Neither was this about their divorce or his new life or any of that old pain.

This was fresh. Raw. Devastating.

"Mom," I said softly.

She looked up, and the devastation in her eyes almost knocked me backward.

Mascara running in dark tracks. Hair disheveled. Whole body trembling.

"Olive," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

I crossed the room and sat beside her, pulling her into my arms.

She collapsed against me, sobbing so hard her entire body shook, and I just held her while she fell apart.

We sat like that for several minutes—her crying, me holding her, neither of us speaking.

Finally, she pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with shaking hands.

"I can't be in that house," she said, her voice wrecked. "I can't look at our bedroom. Can't walk past the kitchen where we had breakfast every morning. Can't—everywhere I look I see him. See them. And I just—"

She broke off, fresh tears spilling.

"I know," I said quietly. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

I helped her stand, and we walked toward the door.

Walter was hovering in the hallway, and when he saw us coming, his eyes went straight to me.

Really looked at me.

His expression shifted—concern deepening into something more worried.

"Olive," he said carefully. "Have you been crying?"

I hadn't realized it was obvious. Hadn't thought about the fact that my own eyes were probably red and puffy from the stress of the past week.

"I'm fine," I said flatly.

"You don't look fine." He stepped closer. "What happened? What's going on?"

Diane was moving toward the door, but Walter's voice stopped her.

"Diane," he said gently. "Where are you going? You can't—you shouldn't go back to your house right now. I know I’m scared of Annie showing up, but…not like this. At least… tell me… what’s going on?"

She turned to look at him, and something in her expression crumbled even more.

"I don’t want to be a burden to your perfect family Walter," she whispered.

I should have just left. Should have walked out without saying anything.

But something in me snapped.

"Grayson cheated on her," I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. "With my best friend Brenda. And now Brenda's pregnant. That's what happened."

Walter's face went through several expressions—shock, then understanding, then pure rage.

"That son of a bitch," he snarled. "Are you kidding me? He's been with Diane for over ten years and he does this? Who the hell does he think—"

"It doesn't concern you," I cut him off, exhaustion making my words sharp. "What Grayson did, what Mom is going through—none of it has anything to do with you, Walter. You need to focus on your own family. On Annie and the twins. Not on your ex-wife's problems."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't argue.

"You're right," he said finally. "But Olive—if either of you need anything—"

"We'll figure it out," I said. "We always do."

I turned and guided my mother out the door before Walter could say anything else.

Diane was already in my passenger seat when I got to the car, staring blankly out the window.

I got in and started the engine, but didn't pull away immediately.

Silence filled the car—heavy, suffocating silence that pressed down on both of us.

I glanced over at her, trying to figure out what to say, where to even begin.

"Mom," I said finally, my voice careful. "Do you want me to take you home? Back to your house?"

She didn't answer. Didn't even look at me. Just sat there staring straight ahead, tears streaming silently down her face.

The silence stretched on for another long moment before she finally spoke.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice so broken it hurt to hear. "I don't—I can't believe he did this to me. To us. After everything we've built together. After ten years of marriage."

Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers knotting together anxiously.

"He said it was one time," she continued, the words spilling out now like a dam had broken. "One mistake. One moment of weakness. And I keep trying to understand how that happens. How you accidentally sleep with someone. How you accidentally betray your wife. But I can't—I don't—"

She stopped, choking on a sob.

I wanted to say something. Wanted to tell her it would be okay, that she'd get through this, that Grayson was an idiot who didn't deserve her.

But I couldn't.

Because I didn't know if any of that was true.

And I was still trying to figure out how to forgive Brenda myself for what she'd done.

So I just sat there, letting her talk, letting her get it all out.

"I keep asking myself if I can forgive him," Diane said, her voice getting quieter now. "If this is something we can move past. People make mistakes, right? People do terrible things and marriages survive. But every time I think about trying—every time I imagine going back to that house and pretending everything is fine—I feel sick."

Her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach, and I saw her fingers spread protectively over the place where her baby was growing.

"And I'm pregnant," she whispered. "I'm bringing a baby into this chaos. Into this broken marriage. And I don't know how to do that. Don't know how to raise a child with a man I'm not sure I can ever trust again."

Tears were streaming down my own face now, but I didn't wipe them away.

Just sat there watching my mother fall apart and feeling absolutely helpless to fix any of it.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, my voice thick. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."