Sweet Beginnings (The Mayridge Hearts #1)

Prologue

If you asked most people if they’d want to dress up in a stunning floor-length emerald gown, with modest cuts, matching heels, and the finest pearls while sipping expensive champagne all evening, I’m pretty sure they’d jump at the chance.

But for me, this is just another charity event. Another night where the wealthy parade their fortunes, bidding on absurd items, and pretending it’s all for a good cause. I try to melt into the crowd—to disappear into the depths of my mind, behind the mask I’m expected to wear.

“Olivia, lift your chin and straighten your back. You are slouching,” my mother snaps, yanking me back to the surface—to reality.

I stiffen instantly, falling into step beside my parents as we cross into the glittering ballroom. I paste on the perfect smile and nod politely while my mother exchanges her practiced pleasantries with the other guests.

Swallowing hard, I keep my eyes wide and bright as I turn to greet a cluster of strangers. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” I say, my voice steady despite, the anxiety tightly squeezing my chest.

This is the role I’ve played my entire life, the perfect daughter. Polished. Presented. Put on display.

But never wanted. Not really.

From the very start, I was a reminder of failure. Not the son they’d hoped for. Not the heir they prayed would carry the Cavendish name forward. Just a squalling baby girl who took too much from my mother during birth.

A sharp pinch to the inside of my arm yanks me back to the present. I glance over, meeting my mother’s icy glare. I fight the urge to rub the spot where her manicured fingers dug into my skin.

“Olivia, you remember Kevin and Vivienne Conway, and of course their son, Caleb,” my father says smoothly, as all eyes turn toward me.

I nod and fix a polite smile across my face. “Of course,” I reply, turning toward the Conway’s. “Mr. and Mrs. Conway, it’s lovely to see you again. You too, Caleb.”

I reach out to shake their hands, resisting the urge to recoil as I take Caleb’s last. His palm is clammy, his grip too firm, and I have to work to keep my expression neutral. With both sets of parents watching, there’s no graceful way to pull away.

“You too. Doesn’t she look beautiful tonight, Caleb?” Kevin Conway says, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

An uncomfortable knot settles low in my stomach as I watch both of the Conway men’s eyes roam far too slowly over my body.

“I couldn’t agree more, Father.” Caleb’s voice is slick. “Olivia, it would be my honor if you’d save me a dance this evening.” His eyes linger shamelessly on my chest, as if he’s trying to see through the fabric of my dress.

“Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” my mother cuts in, her voice unusually bright, full of a kind of excitement I’ve never heard directed at me before.

“Yes,” I stammer, forcing the corners of my lips to lift. “It really would.”

I wait until my parents are distracted—my mother gushing over someone’s ridiculous diamond clutch and my father deep in conversation with Kevin Conway—before slipping away from the crowd.

My heels click quietly against the polished marble as I weave through the corridor that leads to the back garden terrace.

The cool night air rushes against me, sharp and desperate, like coming up for air after too long underwater.

“Thought you might escape eventually,” a familiar voice says.

I turn to find Ivy leaning against the stone railing, her black cocktail dress far simpler than mine but worn with more confidence than I’ve ever felt in my life. Her hair’s loose, makeup smudged just slightly, like she couldn’t be bothered to fix it. She looks like freedom.

“How long have you been out here?” I ask, stepping beside her.

“Long enough to avoid three board members, two counts of forced small talk, and one attempted setup with a forty-year-old investment banker,” she says dryly.

I laugh quietly. “You’re living the dream.”

She tilts her head toward me. “You, okay?”

I pause. My smile fades just a little. “Just the usual. Say the right thing. Smile on cue. Pretend this dress doesn’t feel like a costume.”

Ivy’s voice softens. “You deserve better than pretending.”

Before I can respond, the terrace doors creak open behind us, followed by my mother's voice.

“There you are.” Her smile is brittle, her eyes sharp. “Come, Olivia. Your father’s looking for you.”

I straighten instinctively.

Ivy shoots me a look, a silent question hanging on her tongue.

“I’ll find you later,” I say to her under my breath.

She nods, but her brow knits with worry. “Be careful.”

I follow my mother back inside with the weight of Ivy’s words still clinging to me like smoke.

We move past the ballroom, veering down one of the quieter side corridors leading toward the private lounges.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up with her quick pace.

She stays quiet, ignoring me as usual, which causes my pulse to spike. Her heels echo sharply off the floor.

Just before we reach the end of the hallway, she stops short and turns to me.

“Wait here,” she says, her tone clipped. “Your father is discussing business. I’ll fetch you when he’s ready.”

“Business?” I echo, but she’s already gliding through the door at the end of the hall.

I stare after her, heart thudding.

What kind of business would my father be conducting that needs me?

I wait a beat, then another. My curiosity burns hotter than my caution. I step closer.

The door hasn’t latched fully. A thin strip of light spills into the hallway, along with voices.

“I just want to be sure everything is clear before we move forward,” my father says, his tone firm. “This agreement benefits both families.”

Kevin Conway’s voice follows, smoother, smug. “Of course. We’ve always done good business together. This will only strengthen that. Caleb is eager. And Olivia… I assume she understands what’s expected.”

Those words echo in my brain for a moment, and then my breath catches.

“She does,” my mother answers, her voice crisp and cold. “She knows her place.”

“You’re an extremely lucky man, Caleb,” my father adds. “I hope you understand what this union truly means.”

“Yes, sir,” Caleb replies.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I lean in, barely breathing.

“Then it’s settled,” my father says. “The announcement will come in a few weeks. But tonight… let’s consider it unofficially official.” He pauses. “Bring her in.”

I step back quickly to where my mother left me moments ago, pressing myself against the wall, pretending I didn’t catch a word.

I stare at the polished floor, forcing my expression into calm as footsteps approach.

“Olivia,” she calls, her tone clipped and final. “Come here.”

Swallowing hard, I turn slowly and walk toward the door, each step heavier than the last as I follow my mother into the room.

“Ah, Olivia,” my father says as his gaze lands on me. “We have some good news. A celebration is in order; one I think you’ll be very happy about. You are about to enter into an arrangement that benefits both our families. Caleb, will be your husband.”

The air rushes out of my lungs like a punch to the stomach. I struggle to process his words, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

Caleb appears at my side, sliding his arm around my waist. Panic jolts through me, and I step away sharply, putting space between us.

“No.” The word slips out, a whisper, but at least I said it.

“Excuse me?” My father’s voice is calm, but his eyes flash with cold fury as they lock onto mine, tear-blurred and defiant.

“No, Father. Please… don’t do this.”

“This is not up for discussion, Olivia,” my father says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are fortunate. Not many girls are given the opportunity to marry into a family like this. Caleb will be your husband, and you would do well to remember your place.”

The words sting, but he doesn’t so much as glance at me as he continues, his attention now fixed on my future husband.

His brows draw together in a look of stern authority.

“It goes without saying that my daughter is to remain pure until the wedding. For that reason, she will continue to live under my roof until you are married.” He speaks about me as though I’m a business arrangement rather than his daughter, his voice clipped and final.

“Of course, sir,” Caleb replies with a respectful nod, his tone as controlled as his expression.

“We’ll allow six months to plan the wedding,” my father adds, as if setting a date for a business merger rather than my future.

Caleb steps forward, extending his hand. My father clasps it firmly, and Caleb’s father, standing just beside him, nods in approval. Within moments, the two men are engrossed in conversation about wedding arrangements, their voices low but animated, already discussing venues and guest lists.

My mother leans toward Caleb’s mother, the two of them whispering in hushed but eager tones, their eyes bright with shared excitement over details they’ve apparently been waiting to plan. Laughter bubbles between them, the kind shared between women who have long anticipated this moment.

I stand there—silent, invisible—as my future is bartered away like a business deal, every word spoken around me confirming what I already know: my opinion doesn’t matter. Not to them. Not to anyone.

Caleb steps closer, the heat of his breath brushing my cheek as he leans in, his voice pitched low so only I can hear. “I’ve been dying to see what you’re hiding under these clothes,” he murmurs, his words slick with hunger.

I flinch when his hand clamps down on my hip, his fingers digging in possessively, staking a claim that isn’t his to take.

“I may have to wait for now,” he continues, his lips curling into a smirk, “but once you’re my wife? I’ll take what I want, when I want.”

“I’ll never give you my body willingly,” I hiss, twisting against his grip, but he only yanks me closer, until there’s no space left between us.

“Caleb.” My father’s voice slices through the moment, sharp and commanding.

Caleb’s hand lingers on my hip for a beat too long before he straightens, his expression slipping back into that perfect mask of respect. “Yes, Sir?”

My father hands him a tumbler of whiskey, smiling as if nothing is amiss. “To the happy couple.”

Bile rises in my throat as they clink glasses, laughing with easy camaraderie, and the sound only sharpens the ache inside me—the quiet grief of someone watching freedom slip from her fingers, bartered away for a future she never chose.

Caleb pulls me tight against his side, his grip unyielding, possessive.

I force myself to stand still, but inside, panic claws at my chest. In this moment, it feels like my life is slipping away—piece by piece—right before my eyes.