Chapter Five
Olivia
The office is quiet—it’s Saturday, after all. But I’m in the no-nonsense space designed for efficiency rather than the showiness you might expect from a luxury urn manufacturer.
I’m the CEO of Luminary & Co., the subsidiary of EverAfter, and my little kingdom doesn’t run itself.
I go over the latest projections. Our last quarterly results were fantastic, especially with the new market expansion into Japan and Korea for pet urns.
It was experimental, and we started small.
But it paid off far better than anticipated.
I should find local distributors, especially in Japan, who can move the product into the rest of the country.
Tokyo is great, but there are other cities with potential.
I lean back in my seat and exhale with satisfaction.
Twelve years of painstaking work, and it’s paying off handsomely.
Without the success of the company, which I started as soon as I turned eighteen, I wouldn’t have been able to gather enough resources to balance the scales.
It still enrages me that Mom’s murderers get to live well and insulate themselves from consequences with the Whitmore Trust.
Not for much longer.
I flex and unflex my hands. I can almost taste victory. Vengeance will absolutely be mine.
The door to my office opens with a squeak. Several people mentioned I should spray it with WD-40, but I declined. I don’t want to be caught unaware when somebody’s entering my space.
I glance up at Simon Voss, my trusty assistant.
Since it’s the weekend, he’s in a casual burgundy polo shirt, worn jeans and sneakers.
His dirty blond hair is down, which would give him a boyish charm if it weren’t for the furrowed lines between his eyebrows.
What a waste. He’d look much more handsome if he smiled more.
He takes in my white dress, and his frown deepens.
“Brielle and Tyler got their marriage license yesterday.”
“Did they?” I flip open an unlabeled manila folder, then toss my own license I got with my “fiancé” into the trash.
Simon’s eyes follow the paper until it comes to rest on top of an old fast-food burger wrapper. “That’s it? You’re just going to step aside?”
“I have my reasons.” Simon isn’t likely to betray me, but then I didn’t think my exes would, either…
until they did. He’s been very loyal, but he also hasn’t been tested by Brielle.
And I don’t dare take any risks, not when I’m so close.
I gesture for him to sit down since I’m tired of craning my neck.
He exhales roughly. “You can’t let Brielle take your groom and publicly humiliate you at your own wedding.”
I lower my eyes briefly as though in pain. “They’re in love.”
“She’s doing this on purpose!” He slashes the air with his hand.
“I can’t force Tyler to love me.” My plan for justice will fail if she’s aware Tyler is my Trojan horse.
“Screw him. You should lay down the law.”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t want to fight with her over a man. I have my dignity.”
Simon looks away, but I can tell he doesn’t like it.
“Did you make a list of suitable bachelors?”
“Not yet. It isn’t easy to find suitable candidates.”
I frown. “I’m not asking for a soulmate here, just someone to marry to stop this ticking clock.
I’m almost thirty now, and having a family of my own is all I can think about.
” I let out a sigh for his benefit, doing my best to hide my impatience.
He doesn’t need to know every sordid detail of my personal plans.
He’s been my right hand since forever, and I don’t want to lose him because he decides to take action behind my back, ostensibly to help.
“I need a list before next Friday. If it pisses you off that Brielle and Tyler are disrespecting me, do your job. The best way to get over a shitty ex is meeting a better man. Help me show them that they don’t affect me.
” I close the laptop and place it in my bag.
“Anyway, the list, Simon. Don’t disappoint me. ”
He nods, his face tight. He hates it when he fails to meet expectations.
I soften my tone. “Don’t take it personally. I know you’re trying.”
But I need him to make the list so I can pick a name. I don’t trust myself to make the selection—my mind keeps circling back to Liam ever since Tyler and I went to Kingswood Stones & Designs, and that won’t do. “Anyway, see you on Monday.”
“Have a great rest of the weekend,” Simon says softly, as I exit the office.
I check the time. A little after three—enough time to pick up the wedding bands. Tyler’s supposed to meet me there, ostensibly to maintain appearances. After all, as discreet as Kingswood Stones & Designs is, it’s not some faceless, soulless entity, but something made of people, and people talk.
Well, well, well.
I raise my eyebrow as I climb out of my Audi and spot Tyler and Brielle walking together.
Aren’t they cozy? They aren’t even trying to hide anymore.
Tyler must’ve bought everything Hugh, Deena and Brielle fed him.
My dear sister probably slept with him, too, to show what he’s been missing from me.
I haven’t slept with him. It wasn’t necessary when he’s looking to marry for money, and I only need to offload him onto my enemies.
He believed me when I said I was a devout Catholic and wanted to wait until the wedding night.
I reach the door of Kingswood Stones & Designs at the same time they do. “What’s she doing here?” Gotta play the jealous, unhappy fiancée.
Tyler rolls his eyes. “What are you complaining about now? She’s your sister and maid of honor.”
“I don’t go everywhere with your best man.”
“Jesus, Olivia, stop nitpicking everything I do. What’s wrong with me getting close to your family?”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little too close?”
“Oh my God. We were just talking about the island.” Tyler’s tone is full of impatience and contempt. I must be “too poor” to rate any respect.
“Laucala Island,” Brielle clarifies in case I don’t get it.
“Why? We decided on Cancun,” I say.
“Nothing wrong with exploring some other options,” Tyler says.
Brielle bites her lip and lowers her eyes, even as her hand on Tyler’s arm tightens. “I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable. I don’t mean to.”
Of course not. Her clichéd refrain grates on my nerves because she said the same to Hugh after Mom tumbled down the stairs.
I clench my jaw. “Do you ever mean to do something?” I say icily, then walk into the store without waiting for the two of them.
This is exactly the kind of behavior Tyler expects—angry, petulant, and slightly spoiled.
The second I step inside, I know that Liam isn’t working.
The air doesn’t vibrate with the bright energy that always cheers me up.
My heart deflates, like a puppy learning that it’s raining too hard to go for a walk.
I breathe slowly to control my disappointment.
It’s better this way. I’ve become too used to his presence, but he shouldn’t be dragged into my mess. He’s—
I stop. He’s not just special and warm. He’s…
he’s too pure to be tainted by the likes of Hugh, Deena and Brielle.
Especially Brielle. I was always careful in my interactions with him at Stanford because she was only a short drive away at Santa Clara, ready to come over and steal whatever she thought I valued the most—or failing that, destroy it.
And now, I just don’t want Brielle to break him the way she did my real family.
Pochi wasn’t the only one or the first. The coroner’s report listed Mom’s death as an unfortunate accident, but I’ll never believe it.
Deena and Brielle showed up on a day our housekeeper was conveniently on leave, then provoked Mom until she fainted at the top of the stairs, causing her to fall and break her neck.
I saw my mother tumble down the staircase. Everything else vanished in an instant, and it was all I could do to run toward her and put my arms around her limp body. Terror pounded through me when she wouldn’t smile or move.
“Mom!” I screamed over and over again. But she didn’t open her eyes, not even a flicker.
“Oh my gosh.” Deena’s trembling gasp cut through the suffocating fog of panic. I turned to her.
“Please! Help!” I screamed because I didn’t know what to do. I was just a sheltered ten-year-old child.
Her face pale, she nodded, taking out her phone with a shaking hand.
Brielle jabbed her elbow into Deena’s side. “Mom, maybe we need to wait until Dad gets back. What if he gets angry? We weren’t supposed to be here,” she added the last part in a hushed tone.
Something I couldn’t pinpoint flickered in Deena’s eyes. “Right, right. Okay, so… We’re just going to wait a little bit, okay?”
“He’s playing golf! He won’t come back until late.”
“So what? Why should we get into trouble because of you?” Brielle shot back, raising her voice.
Rage exploded, burning away the terror and panic. With a piercing shriek, I launched myself at her. Brielle screamed, her arms raised in a defensive posture.
“Help Mom! Now!” I screamed as I pushed her.
Deena shoved me hard. I fell, hit the marble floor hard on my right hip and rolled a couple of times. She ran her hands down Brielle’s body, checking for injuries, as though ten-year-old me could have seriously hurt her.
Then when she was satisfied that Brielle was fine, she turned her eyes toward me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I pushed myself up. “You have to help her. Mom fell because of you.”
“No, she fell because she was clumsy. We didn’t do anything,” she insisted, her chin tilted stubbornly. “You owe my daughter an apology.”
“I don’t apologize to killers!”
Deena turned even paler while Brielle just blinked at me. Deena raised her hand and moved to slap me, but caught herself. Instead, she shoved me back hard again, like the first time wasn’t enough. I stumbled and landed next to Mom and shook.
“That is what you deserve for lashing out.” Deena curled a protective arm around Brielle. “Let’s go, baby. I’ll get you something nice and sweet to cheer you up.”
Brielle shot me a triumphant look over her shoulder. And no matter how I screamed and begged, they ignored me—and nobody came to the rescue. I just hugged Mom as she grew colder and stiffer, and cried until I felt dizzy and disoriented. It wasn’t until the sun was almost down that Hugh returned.
He looked horrified, then almost dropped to his knees when I told him about Deena and Brielle. I don’t know what I expected, but I thought maybe he’d say Deena and Brielle lied or that he’d put the two of them in jail.
But Brielle ran to him and hugged his legs. “Daddy, I didn’t mean to cause trouble when I asked Mom to come here.” She sobbed. “I just wanted to see what kind of people lived in a house this nice. And I just wanted to see the pony she got for her birthday.”
Hugh’s expression turned pained, then softened. He crouched down and hugged her. “I know, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I really didn’t mean to.”
“You lying bitch!” I screamed and jumped to my feet to lunge for her. But before I could grab her, my vision went black and I collapsed.
By the time I regained consciousness in the hospital, hooked up to an IV, Mom had already been cremated. Brielle again said, “I didn’t mean to.”
And she says those four words every time she does something to destroy part of my world.
Let’s see if you can say the same when you “steal” Tyler.