Chapter 4

After the graduation ceremony, the Hiltons held a party for Olivia, and the whole graduating class was invited.

Mrs. Hilton raised her crystal glass high in the air and made a toast, "For my daughter who graduated at the top of her class and whose awards and certificates could fill this room like wallpaper. Congratulations."

Her adoptive mother was looking right at Olivia but seeing past her. In her mind, she was congratulating another child who no longer existed.

Olivia hid her pain behind a smile, the same one she’d worn for years, which no one seemed to look at closely enough to notice the cracks beneath.

Everyone raised their glasses. She raised hers too, congratulating herself not for her achievements but for being strong enough to keep living this ‘bullshit of a life’ with a smile on her face.

Throughout the night, people kept coming up to her. She faced everyone with a smile until her jaw hurt.

It was halfway through the party when she realized Clayton wasn't there. She kept glancing at the door every time it opened, expecting to see him. The party lasted until 2 AM, but he never came.

When the last guest left at 3 AM, Olivia climbed the stairs to her room. Her feet ached from standing in heels. She heaved a sigh when her feet landed on the plush carpet, finally free from those torture device, she called shoes.

Olivia carefully hung her dress before changing into a comfortable oversized t-shirt. She turned to the bed. That's when she saw three pink roses on her mattress. Of course, Mrs. Hilton would choose pink roses, her dear Caroline's favorite.

But these weren't from Mrs. Hilton.

Next to the flowers sat a small velvet box she had seen Clayton hiding behind his back.

Olivia's heart jumped into her throat. She dragged her heavy legs to the bed. Inside the box, nestled in white silk, lay a ring with a purple butterfly. She put it on, but it didn't fit anywhere except for her pinky finger.

She didn't have candle-like hands like Caroline, who hadn't worked a day in her life when she was alive. Olivia’s hands were rough and calloused from hours of working part-time jobs to buy herself art materials, which her parents refused to fund.

A note fell from the box, Clayton's messy handwriting sprawled across it: "Congratulations." For one perfect moment, her heart soared, but reality came crashing back like a tidal wave.

Of course, this wasn't real. Clayton hadn't even shown up to the party. He hadn't even brought the right ring size. He'd probably dropped off the gift earlier, forced by Mrs. Hilton to maintain appearances. After all, what would people say if Bradford's golden boy ignored his "future wife's" graduation?

Olivia placed the ring back in its box and set the flowers aside along with it. They belonged together. These beautiful things meant for a different girl.

She curled up on her bed, still in her makeup, and stared at the ceiling until she fell asleep.

The next morning, the first thing Olivia did after breakfast was sort through her graduation gifts and the offers she received from various universities. She was planning to take Fine Arts and go to the university that offered the most advantage since her adoptive parents refused to pay for her chosen career because they wanted her to choose a noble profession.

Her fingers moved slowly through the pile of envelopes on her desk: Yale, Stanford, Harvard, Berkeley—names that would make any parents proud.

She opened each acceptance letter. The majority of them offered full scholarships and the best art programs. But it was the letter from Paris that made her heart skip: École des Beaux-Arts. The school she'd dreamed about since she first learned about it. A full scholarship. A chance to study in Paris!

Olivia got up and made a celebratory twirl while holding the letter from her future school. Her dreams were coming true! She could finally escape Caroline's shadow.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Mrs. Hilton's sharp voice cut through her daydream. Olivia turned around, still clutching the acceptance letter to her chest. Her adoptive mother stood in the doorway, wearing her favorite pearl necklace and a disapproving frown that seemed permanently etched on her face these days.

"Mom, I got accepted to a prestigious school in Paris!" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I’ve finally decided to study Fine Arts and—"

"Who told you you're getting Fine Arts?"

“I… I thought you….” She couldn't finish her words after seeing Mrs. Hilton's face harden into stone.

"We've discussed this, Olivia. You're going to study medicine and become a doctor. Caroline always wanted to be a doctor."

There it was. Caroline. Always Caroline.

"I'm not Caroline… She's dead," Olivia muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Mrs. Hilton's eyes narrowed.

"I said I'm not Caroline!" The words burst out louder than she intended. "I'm not her! I'll never be her! I don't want to be a doctor!”

Slap!

Mrs. Hilton's hand across her face silenced her. Olivia's cheek burned, but the pain in her heart was worse.

"How dare you?" Mrs. Hilton's voice rose several octaves. "After everything we've done for you? Taking you from that godforsaken orphanage, giving you our name, the best education money could buy?"

Olivia touched her stinging cheek. Just like that, her dreams of going to Paris vanished in an instant.

"We didn't save you from that place so you could waste your life drawing pictures! You will go to medical school. That's the only choice I can give you!”

"And… if I don't?"

"Don't be naive, Olivia. Where else would you go? Who else would want you?”

The words were precisely aimed at Olivia's deepest insecurities. She couldn't say a word. Couldn't even move.

Mrs. Hilton walked to the door. "Get dressed. We're going to Cordova Medical School to get you enrolled. Be thankful you have this opportunity; don't waste it.” Before the door closed, her mother spoke one last time. "And throw away those ridiculous acceptance letters. You can't have them anyway.”

With that, the door closed, along with her only opportunity to become a great painter.

—

Olivia's quick acceptance to Cordova Medical University came as no surprise. Her perfect grades and glowing recommendations made her a shoo-in. The Dean practically beamed when he saw her, especially after knowing she was the one and only daughter of the Hilton family.

"I'm so relieved you've finally come to your senses," her adoptive mother said during the drive home. She was seated in the passenger seat while Mr. Hilton, as silent as an ornament, drove the car.

"This silly dream of becoming a painter—honestly, Olivia, what were you thinking?” Mrs. Hilton let out a laugh while rolling her eyes. “Caroline would never even think of doing something like that. She’s a bright girl who knew exactly what she wanted to be from the start.”

Olivia clenched and unclenched her fists at the backseat. She let the words enter one ear and exit the other while making sketches in her mind. It worked every time.

The moment the car pulled in front of the Hilton Mansion, Olivia immediately jumped out of the car. But then she froze, seeing thick black smoke coming from the side of the house.

Her heart stopped beating when she saw her expensive art supplies, her paintings, her sketches, everything related to her art swallowed by flames.

She ran toward the fire, reaching for the canvas that had taken her 48 hours to make, the one she created until her wrist hurt. But the corner broke off in her fingers.

"I ordered the servants to get rid of all your art supplies and paintings," Mrs. Hilton's cold voice came from behind. "You won't need these anymore. Medical school requires full attention. No more wasting time with silly drawings."

The fire consumed everything. Her expensive oil paints she had saved for months to buy, the special brushes she'd ordered from art catalogs, even the charcoal set she received from an anonymous sender on her 17th birthday. All of it turned to ash before her eyes.

Mrs. Hilton walked past the burning pile like it was nothing more than garbage. She hummed a happy tune as she made her way inside.

Olivia fell to her knees in front of the fire. She didn't cry when she was slapped hard on the cheek, but watching her years of hard work reduce to a pile of ash made her burst into tears.

—

Olivia curled up on the headboard, her eyes swollen from hours of crying. She looked up when she heard a knock. Shortly after, Martha, the housekeeper, entered carrying a white rectangular box with a familiar logo of a famous boutique.

The housekeeper informed her that it was a dress she had to wear tonight.

Olivia almost forgot she had to make an appearance at her future husband's post-graduation party. Clayton Bradford had just obtained his Bachelor’s Degree in Business Management—his father's prerequisite before allowing him to enlist in the military.

“Leave it on the couch, Martha.”

When the housekeeper left, Olivia got up, wiping the tears from her cheeks until they were completely dry. She opened the box and found an exquisite dress in her favorite shade, mauve.

She thought about the party, the noise, and the drinks that would follow, and realized how badly she needed them tonight to drown out the pain.