Chapter 2

The next morning, the house buzzed with a frantic, festive energy that felt like a personal insult. Florists were arranging massive bouquets of white roses, the scent thick and cloying. Caterers bustled in and out of the kitchen.

And then Jessica Davis, Chloe' s mother, appeared in the doorway of my suite.

She was impeccably dressed in a pale pink suit, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed. She surveyed the room, her eyes lingering on the wedding dress before settling on me. A small, tight smile played on her lips.

"Olivia, dear," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "You' re not even dressed yet? The makeup artist will be here any minute."

The sight of her sent a jolt of ice through my veins. This was the woman who had systematically dismantled my original family, who had always treated me with a thinly veiled contempt while showering Chloe with affection.

"I' m not feeling well," I said, my voice flat.

"Nonsense. It' s just wedding day jitters," she chirped, walking into the room. She picked up a piece of my lingerie from a chair, holding it between her thumb and forefinger as if it were contaminated. "You simply must pull yourself together. David is so looking forward to walking you down the aisle."

The mention of my father' s name was like a physical blow.

"Chloe seems to be feeling just fine," I said, unable to stop myself.

Jessica' s smile tightened. "Chloe is a very resilient girl. She' s always been so much stronger than you, so much less… emotional."

The condescension in her voice, the casual cruelty of her words, cracked something open inside me. The carefully constructed composure I' d been holding onto all morning shattered.

"Get out," I said, my voice shaking with a rage that surprised me.

"Excuse me?" Jessica' s eyes widened in mock surprise.

"I said, get out of my room. Now." I stood up, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Well, I never," she gasped, clutching her pearls. "After all I' ve done for you, for this wedding…"

"You' ve done nothing," I spat. "You' ve done nothing but try to erase me from my own father' s life, and now your daughter is trying to erase me from my own wedding."

The mask of civility dropped from her face. Her expression turned venomous. "You ungrateful little brat. You' ve always been jealous of Chloe, haven' t you? You can' t stand that she' s prettier, that your father loves her more."

"He doesn' t love her more!" I shouted, the sound echoing in the large room. "He' s my father!"

"Is he?" she taunted, stepping closer. "He seems to spend all his time with my daughter. He seems to buy her everything her heart desires. When was the last time he looked at you with that kind of pride, Olivia?"

Each word was a calculated strike, designed to inflict maximum pain. And it worked. Tears of fury and hurt pricked my eyes. The chaos of the past twelve hours, the betrayal, the heartbreak, all of it culminated in a single, explosive moment.

I lunged forward, not to hit her, but just to get her out of my space, out of my room. I grabbed her arm.

"Get out!"

The commotion brought people running. My father, David, was the first one through the door, followed by Chloe, her face a mask of wide-eyed concern.

"What' s going on?" my father demanded, his eyes immediately going to Jessica' s arm, where my hand was still clamped.

"She attacked me, David!" Jessica cried, her voice breaking dramatically. "She just went crazy!"

"Olivia, what the hell do you think you' re doing?" my father roared, striding towards me.

He didn' t ask for my side. He didn' t look at my face, at the tear tracks on my cheeks. He just saw Jessica, playing the victim just as she had so many years ago.

He grabbed my wrist and yanked it away from Jessica' s arm. The force of it made me stumble back.

"I… she…" I stammered, looking at him, pleading with my eyes for him to see me, to finally, for once, see me.

Chloe rushed to her mother' s side. "Mom, are you okay? Oh, Olivia, how could you?"

My father' s face was red with anger. He stood between me and them, a protective wall for his new family.

"Apologize to Jessica. Now," he commanded.

"No," I whispered. "She' s lying. They' re both lying."

His jaw tightened. "Don' t you dare disrespect your mother."

"She is not my mother!" I screamed, the last thread of control snapping.

That was when it happened.

His hand flew up and connected with my cheek.

The sound of the slap was sharp, ugly. It silenced the room. The sting was immediate, a hot, blooming pain that spread across my face. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my chest.

My own father had just hit me. For them.

I stared at him, my hand rising to my cheek, my mind reeling in shock.

He looked at his hand, a flicker of something-regret? surprise?-in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

"You will not ruin this day," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Liam is a good man, this is a good match. You will pull yourself together, you will walk down that aisle, and you will smile. Do you understand me?"

Chloe and Jessica stood behind him, a united front. Chloe' s eyes, over her mother' s shoulder, were not filled with pity. They were filled with cold, hard victory.

My father turned his back on me. He put his arm around Jessica, murmuring comforting words, and led her out of the room. Chloe followed, casting one last triumphant look in my direction before she disappeared.

I was left alone in the center of the room, the scent of white roses choking me. The hum of activity outside the door continued, oblivious. Guests were arriving. The music was about to start.

My cheek throbbed. I could feel the print of his fingers on my skin. A brand of his ultimate betrayal.

I stumbled toward the bathroom, my legs unsteady. I didn't want to see the guests. I didn't want to see anyone. I needed to escape the judging eyes, the whispers that were sure to follow.

I locked the door and leaned against it, my body sliding down to the cool tile floor. The shame was a physical weight, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. He had left me there, utterly humiliated, to face the consequences alone while he comforted the very people who had destroyed me.

I curled into a ball, the pain in my cheek a dull echo of the gaping wound in my soul.