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 Ever After, 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 de epens.
“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 st ep 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 ke eps 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 sl ept with him, too, to
show what he’s been missing from me. I haven’t sl ept 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 st ep 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 r eport listed Mom’s death as an unfortunate accident, but I’ll
never believe it. Deena and Brielle showed up on a day our houseke eper 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.