Chapter 2 02

When Olivia arrived home after her long shift at the hospital, she was still grappling with whether to attend tomorrow's event. But upon entering her room, she realized it was no longer up for negotiation. Her adoptive mother had made sure she had no excuse not to attend.

In her closet hung a stunning pink dress with a deep V-neckline and daring side cutouts that revealed just the right amount of skin. It was paired with gorgeous shoes in a matching color, featuring three-inch heels.

Olivia could only sigh. She hated birthday parties, really hated them, ever since she was fourteen years old. But after a long day of work, an argument with her overbearing mother was the last thing on her mind.

She hung up her doctor's coat and changed into a comfortable t-shirt and cotton shorts before dragging her feet to the dining room, where Mr. and Mrs. Hilton were already seated.

The aroma of delicious food filled the air, but she barely had an appetite. She occupied her usual seat and helped herself to a small serving of grilled salmon. It used to be her favorite, but it tasted bland on her tongue.

Mrs. Hilton's elegant brows arched as she looked at her. "Did you see what I left in your room?"

Olivia kept her eyes fixed on her plate, counting the seconds before she had to answer. One... two... three... She looked up and responded with a smile. "Yes, I did."

"The dress is beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's lovely," Olivia agreed, just as she always did. It was easier this way. Agreeing to everything meant no arguments, no disappointed looks, and no hurt feelings.

"You have no idea the trouble I went through to get that dress. It will look great on you tomorrow." Mrs. Hilton took a sip of her wine before adding, "Well, your father and I will be coming with you to the birthday party."

The spoon Olivia was holding nearly slipped from her fingers.

In the ten years she had lived with the Hiltons, they rarely attended social gatherings that weren't related to business or charity, especially birthdays, because they deemed 'they're beneath them.' This wasn't normal. They didn't just change their minds about social events, especially not ones they considered frivolous.

Mr. Hilton, who had been quietly observing them, cleared his throat. For the very first time since Olivia sat down, he spoke, "Well, speaking of birthdays, you're already twenty-four. Isn't it time you got married?"

Olivia felt her fingers go numb around her fork.

"Your father is right," her adoptive mother agreed as she set down her wine glass. "You are old enough to settle down."

But Olivia didn't want to get married. She'd rather die than trap someone in a loveless marriage and live a miserable life. She wanted to tell them that, but her throat closed up just when she thought she finally had the courage to speak.

Olivia pulled herself together. "But Mom... the demands of my career are too high. Just today, I had to assist in three back-to-back surgeries. There will be more soon... My career needs my full attention."

"There will always be patients, Olivia. Always another surgery, another emergency, another blah blah blah. But we won't be here forever," Mrs. Hilton added, pressing her lips into a thin, tight line.

She knew exactly what words to say to make Olivia feel bad.

"We don't need your opinion, Olivia," Mr. Hilton spoke in a chilling tone. "Once we say you'll get married, you'll get married! Your fate is in our hands."

The utensils clinked on the table, and Mrs. Hilton turned to her husband. "I lost my appetite, Simon. Let's retire for the evening."

Mr. Hilton nodded and abandoned his seat. The two walked out of the dining area. Olivia just watched until they disappeared behind the door; only then did she release the breath she had been holding.

Olivia felt her appetite return once she was alone. She resumed eating as if nothing had happened. Despite all the unpleasant things that had happened to her today, she slept soundly that night.

-

The clock on her wall showed 6:15 PM, and Olivia felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Clayton's birthday party would start at 7.

She had spent the last hour carefully styling her hair into soft waves that cascaded down her back-her mother's order, because she said she looked good in that. But Olivia knew better; that hairstyle made her look even more like Caroline.

"Are you done yet?" Mrs. Hilton's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"Just a second!"

Olivia applied the final touches of makeup, then stood in front of her full-length mirror and smiled-a smile that barely reached her eyes.

She looked like she had stepped right out of a fashion magazine. The pink dress hugged her curves in just the right places, and the deep V-neckline looked daring but held a subtle elegance. Her makeup was flawless-smoky eyes that made her green and blue eyes pop, cheeks dusted with a rosy glow, and lips painted in bold scarlet.

But no matter how good she looked, her eyes appeared dull-they were the eyes of someone who'd never had her freedom.

"Hurry, we're leaving!"

Olivia sighed. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she followed Mr. and Mrs. Hilton to their sleek black Mercedes.

The driver held the door open, and she slid into the back seat, careful not to wrinkle her dress.

The drive to the Bradford Estate took thirty minutes. She wished it had taken longer so she had enough time to compose herself.

The car pulled up to iron gates that opened automatically. A line of luxury vehicles stretched ahead-Bentleys, Rolls Royces, and other cars that could make anyone faint with their price.

"Remember to smile," Mrs. Hilton said, checking her reflection in a compact mirror. "Mayor Thompson will be here tonight with his wife. I heard the Queen's nephew will also be attending."

Olivia nodded absently. She knew the guest list would be filled with the city's elite. It was better not to stand out.

The car came to a stop at the entrance. A valet opened their door, and they stepped out onto a red carpet.

The grand foyer was already packed with guests. Olivia recognized a famous supermodel who'd just landed the cover of Vogue, chatting with some fashion designers. In another corner, a shipping billionaire was deep in conversation with the CEO of a tech company.

She grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and downed it in one go. It was going to be a long night.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Clayton Bradford, the birthday celebrant!"