I swallowed hard, part of me understanding Rose’s point.
“Fine,” I said, forcing a smile to hide the sting of her words. “I’ll stay home. Maybe I’ll light the fireplace, poke at the ashes, and wait for my fairy godmother.” I tried to laugh it off. “And Dad, please don’t die.”
“Mom might lock Olivia in the attic,” Isabelle said, bursting into laughter.
“We don’t have an attic,” Rose snapped, her face deadly serious.
“Maybe I’ll be stuck with only mice for company,” I sighed, keeping my tone light. “Don’t worry, Rose, I know you’re not a wicked stepmother.” I smiled, careful not to sound sarcastic.
Rose took a deep breath and shouted for the maid. “Clear my plate! I’ve lost my appetite. Besides, I can’t eat anything for the next twenty-four hours. I need to fit into that Prada dress I bought ages ago and never wore. Or do you think I should get a new one, darling?”
“No shopping, Rose,” Dad said, his voice so serious I actually got worried. “The private jet’s already going to be a stretch.”
“Alright, then,” Rose said, spinning dramatically as if she were the star of her own show, missing only the cackle of a fairy-tale villain. “I’ll wear the dress still with its tags. Rita flies in on a jet, Olivia stays home, Isabelle gets a new dress, and the dinner’s set!”
“Dad,” I said, finally tasting the bland fish prepared for me, “I think someone forgot to pay my college tuition. I got a notice about overdue payments.”
“Oh…” Dad gave an awkward smile.
“Are we… having financial problems?” I asked cautiously.
“Of course not,” he said quickly.
“You should drop out of med school, Olivia,” Rose chimed in. “Why not work at your father’s company instead?”
“Work?” I said, incredulous. “I’m only nineteen!”
“Medicine is a demanding field that requires effort, dedication, and intelligence,” Rose continued, her tone cutting. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but let’s be honest—I don’t think you’re cut out for it. I know kids of friends who are far brighter than you and couldn’t hack it. Why not pick something easier? And cheaper? Plus, once you graduate, you won’t even be able to use the Abertton name since you’re not a real Abertton. You’ll have a degree but no name. Who’d see a doctor like that?”
“I am Olivia Abertton,” I said firmly. “I have a last name.”
“Sure, but hardly anyone knows it comes from Ernest Abertton,” Rose shot back. “You wouldn’t want to tarnish your father’s reputation—or the family’s—by making that public, would you?”
“But she’s not family!” Isabelle said with a grin, shrugging. “So why should she care?”
“Why are you such a brat?” Rose snapped at her youngest.
“Why are you so mean?” Isabelle fired back.
“Please, no fighting because of me,” I said, stepping in. “If there’s an issue with tuition, I can try for a scholarship.”
“With what name?” Rose asked, her voice icy.
“Olivia,” I said, meeting her gaze steadily. “I have a brain, in case you hadn’t noticed. And maybe I don’t need to use your last name, which, by the way, comes from my father.”
“Enough!” Dad said, rubbing his temples. “Please, stop.”
I stood immediately and hugged him from behind as he sat in his chair. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, kissing his cheek.
“It’s okay,” he said, glancing at Rose. “It’s just a dinner. Don’t drive me crazy, please. I’ve got enough on my plate.” He got up and left the dining room.
I waited until he was gone and turned to Rose.
“This is all your fault, as usual,” she said, pointing a furious finger at me before storming out, huffing.
“Your fault for existing,” Isabelle said, her tone serious as she looked at me. “I have to put up with her because she’s my mom. But you? How do you do it?”
I laughed and walked over to her, pulling her into a warm hug. “Patience,” I said. “It’s probably my best quality. Nothing can shake my peace or make me suffer anymore. I’ve already been through enough in my life.”
“You’re a saint, Olivia,” she said. “Is there a Saint Olivia? Can I add you to the list of saints?”
We burst out laughing, and then her eyes glinted with that mischievous look that meant she was about to tickle me to death. I bolted for my room, running like my life depended on it.
Later, I was lying in bed when Dad knocked and came in. The room was dark.
“Came to say goodnight to my sweetheart,” he said, his voice as warm and loving as ever.
“Hmm, I love that,” I said. “You know I can’t sleep without your goodnight kiss.”
Dad sat on the edge of my bed, kissed my forehead, and ran his fingers gently through my hair. “You’re just like her,” he said, his voice heavy with longing and regret.
“I’d never want to be like her, Dad,” I said firmly, knowing we were talking about my mother.
Who’d want to be like a mother who was a prostitute? Only I knew the horrors I’d endured growing up in that awful place.
“You’re sweet,” he said. “And despite everything, those beautiful dark eyes of yours never stop shining.”
“I can’t be too sweet, Dad. That’d be bad for me,” I said, laughing softly.
“Never lose who you are,” he said. “It’s impossible not to fall in love with you, Olivia Abertton.”
“Your wife doesn’t seem to think so,” I pointed out.
“And yet, that doesn’t seem to faze you, sweetheart.”
“Rose is a saint compared to some people I’ve known,” I said. “So, I’m actually grateful to have her around.”
“I love you, sweetheart,” he said.
“I love you too, Dad.”
As soon as he left, I grabbed my phone and messaged my sister.
@olivia_ Who’s riding in a private jet?
@rita_ The girl who’s gonna marry the richest guy in the country.@olivia_ I wanna be your sister-in-law!@rita_ You’re too young to get married, girl!@isabelle_ No, I’m too young to get married!@olivia_ What are you doing up, you little brat?@isabelle_ I’m nervous about meeting the CEO. Should I DM Jorel, @olivia?@olivia_ Yes @isabelle, tell him I’ve been dreaming about him since I saw him on TV saying North Noriah was a backwater province lol@rita_ I’m thrilled. Soon I’ll have a massive diamond on my finger.@olivia_ And I’ll be one step closer to meeting Jorel Clifford, the love of my life.@rita_ You can’t love him! You don’t even know him!@isabelle_ Says the woman who’s talking about a diamond ring from a guy she’s never met!@olivia_ If Jorel ignores me, at least I’ll see him at family gatherings. I can drool over him then!@rita_ How can you like a jerk like Jorel Clifford?@olivia_ The same way you’re marrying heartless CEO Gabe Clifford.@rita_ logged off@isabelle_ logged offI looked at the photo of Jorel on my nightstand and smiled. “I think we’re finally going to meet, my gorgeous.”
“No new clauses will be added to this agreement, Olívia,” I stated firmly, eager to see the disappointment on her face. “I’ll file for divorce,” she shot back, staring me down fearlessly, as if I were just any ordinary guy. “Do that, and I’ll destroy your family. I’ll take the house, the furniture, and make sure no one in North Noriah gives you a roof to sleep under.” “We’ll leave the country.” “I’ll follow you to hell.” “Don’t you have anything better to do than try to screw over my family?” “Oh, I do! But screwing with Ernest Abertton is my favorite hobby.” I couldn’t hold back a smug grin, noticing no trace of emotion in her eyes. “When does the contract end?” she asked the lawyer. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could speak. “It’s a lifetime contract, Stick-Figure! It ends when one of us dies!” I savored the words like they were a gourmet dish from a world-class chef. “That’s not very fair, since you’ll get 20 years of freedom while I’m stuck with you fo
“And the accounts?” “All frozen.” “But the house and furniture are still yours?” “We sold some furniture.” “What?” “For food… and to cover basic bills.” “And basic bills don’t include new dresses for Rose, right?” “Of course not! Poor Rose… she’s been crying for days!” “Is she missing me?” “No, she’s missing the furniture we sold,” he said, chuckling. “And the dresses she can’t buy.” We burst out laughing, but it hit me that I couldn’t get money from Dad to cover tuition. I’d have to turn to my husband. Gabe married me—he’d have to take care of me: college, food, staff, and… well, intimacy! We were new to this marriage thing. I’d have to spell out how it worked. GABE’S POV“There’s really nothing in the media about my wedding,” I said, scanning the screen in front of me. “You were incredible, Ingrid, as always.” “Thank you, Mr. Clifford. Honestly, it wasn’t that hard. Easier than scrubbing some of your brother’s stories, actually.” Maybe Olívia Stick-Figure was right—the
I woke up slowly, taking a moment to register where I was. Oh, right—I’d married Gabe Clifford, a gorgeous man with the most stunning blue eyes I’d ever seen. And on our wedding night, he’d bolted, leaving me to dream about the passionate night that never happened. I glanced to the side and spotted the framed photo of Jorel Clifford and me, smiling happily on a cruise. “It could’ve been us, couldn’t it, younger Clifford brother?” I murmured, tracing his face with its dazzling smile. “I bet we would’ve hit it off. I promise I’ll try not to hate your brother. I swore to myself I’d never wish harm on anyone after escaping hell. And God heard me—He brought me to my father’s house. I can’t break that vow.” I stretched, my eyes catching the ring on my finger. I slipped it off, squinting to read the inscription inside. Just to be sure, I popped in my contacts and confirmed it was Gabe I’d married, but the ring bore his brother’s name. Weird. But if my husband didn’t care, why should I? M
Gabe pressed a button, and the tinted partition lowered slowly, revealing the driver. “How long until we get there?” “We’re pulling through the gates now, Mr. Clifford.” Gabe raised the partition again and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Gabe, I want you to know I like Jorel, but I’m glad I married you.” He pretended not to hear me, but I knew he’d caught every word. The car stopped, and the driver opened the door. Gabe got out first and strode toward the house. I took the driver’s kind hand as he helped me out and gazed at the Clifford mansion—the place where I’d first met Jorel in person, where my eyes had locked with my husband’s for the first time. I was glad Gabe chose this place for us to live; I at least knew it a little. It could’ve been worse—he could’ve dragged me to another city or country. As I stepped inside, alone since Gabe had practically sprinted ahead to avoid me, I saw my suitcases by the door. My hands were trembling. I hadn’t eaten in hours and needed
“Finish this, Father! Now!” Gabe barked. “Do you wish to call it off, Mr. Clifford?” the priest asked. “There’s still time!” “No, damn it!” Gabe shot a glare at my father. “Marry us already!” How far was Gabe willing to go to hurt my dad? What had happened that was so bad? How long would it take me to figure it out and fix everything? As the priest droned on with words that felt like background noise, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my gorgeous husband. I’d always had a thing for beautiful things—hot guys included. I’d never seen Gabe Clifford in a single photo online. I knew he was the CEO of the world’s biggest pharmaceutical company, but I pictured CEOs as old, ugly, and bald. Not this relatively young, intriguing man. “The rings…” The magic word—*rings*—snapped me back to reality. A tall, slender brunette, probably in her late 20s, stepped forward with a velvet pouch. Gabe snatched two plain, thin gold bands from it, grabbed my hand without asking, and slid one onto my rin
As Olívia and her sorry excuse for a father got closer, their expressions shifted. They realized I was standing there, not Jorel.I thought Olívia might bolt, refuse, back out because it was me. But she didn’t. She kept smiling, like this was the happiest day of her life.Her brown eyes sparkled under the makeup. Her lashes were thicker, curvier than the last time I saw her. Her lips, glossy and full, looked even bigger. She could’ve easily looked hideous. But she didn’t… even in that purple dress and absurd green veil.When she and her father reached me, I said, “Surprise! Change of plans!”“No kidding,” she shot back, making a face. “My groom got a lot shorter… and less handsome.”I laughed. I’d break her. I’d make her beg at my feet, cry rivers of blood. And in return, she’d hand me her father’s life.“Good thing we’re a perfect match, since you’re the ugliest bride I’ve ever seen!”“Where’s the groom?” Ernest demanded. “I’d never hand my daughter over to you.”“If you don’t, you’l