Chapter 7

Olivia P O V

A wedding is supposed to be a joyous occasion, a day to be celebrated, where two souls come together. Joined in holy matrimony. Bonded by vows to love and to cherish.

I have always imagined something romantic despite the tug of survival I have passed through. A grand wedding, the prettiest, most expensive gowns, gorgeous heels that many brides would envy, a lovely veil to put any other veils to shame, and my handsome Prince Charming, my little fairy tale.

But it was just that. A fantasy. A lovely one to dream of, but a fantasy nonetheless. Because my wedding was nothing short of a cruel reality.

Everything is perfect just like how I imagined my wedding day

“That’s it, Livia; remember, I am always on your side. You just do not see it yet because of this, and we understand you,” My mom said.

My chest tightened as she walked to the bed and opened the box, revealing the white tulle veil custom-made by a popular designer. The train ran fifteen feet long with a lace design and gold Swarovski crystals at the end of it.

I glanced at the mirror as Mom came to stand behind me. Without a word, she carefully pinned the veil at the back of my bun. My long black hair has been perfectly coiffed into curls that fell on either side of my face and a messy bun that looked elegant.

An intricate ivory tiara, that had been passed down the Easton family for over a century, sat atop my head. Once the veil was in place, Mom pulled it over my face.

She came to stand in front of me, blocking my reflection and bringing me out of my thoughts. “There you go,” she murmured, her voice coming out choked. She had tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, Livvy”

She fixed my veil, looking as emotional as I felt. The corner of her eyes wrinkled when she blinked; the tip of her nose was red, and she sniffled. “As your mother, can I give you one last bit of advice?”

I nodded, feeling the way my throat closed and burned with unshed tears.

“You’re about to become Olivia Easton, a wife. While you should always have your own best interest at heart, you’re now also responsible for your new family. Their reputation, their image and their well-being.” Mom paused and she nudged my chin up with her index finger, so my head was held high. “Kellan might not be regarded as someone of his status. But you need to be at your very best, so he will never be able to point a finger at you or accuse you of lacking something as a wife or a partner. Don’t allow him to do it. No one should ever use your weaknesses against you. You do not have it all now, yet, but you are on the right path to becoming stronger.”

I bit my lips, trying to stop the tears that were about to escape my eyes.

“We aren't leaving you alone, Livia. We are just a call and some drive away. She said, wiping the tears that managed to fall on my cheeks.

Two hours later, with the help of Mom and Myra, I found myself walking up the stairs of the hall where the wedding was going to take place.

Kellan had specifically asked them to keep the guest list as small as they could. But knowing my mom and Mrs Easton. They went over the top, from the wedding hall, decorations, guests from in and out of the country and paparazzi. Making sure the event was going to be the talk of the whole city

“Nervous?” Mom joked as we came down to the last step where my father was waiting for me.

“Terrified,” I breathed before my father grasped my hand in his.

I wrapped an arm around his waist, my head on his chest and I closed my eyes, feeling my father’s heartbeat. It soothed me. “ I am doing this because I want to, and I am happy too” He much needed more reassurance than me, and I couldn't have asked for better parents. My past was not a favourable one.

“Ready to walk down the aisle?” he asked.

In response, I wrapped my hand around the crook of his elbow. He patted the back of my hand while Myra handed me my bouquet of white and pink roses. Then, we walked through the double wooden doors and into the castle’s chapel.

The sight of it would have taken my breath away: the flowers, the decorations, the beautiful sunlight casting through the side panels of the chapel, but none of it compared to who was waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

Kellan had his back to me and he didn’t even bother to turn around to watch me walk down the aisle to him. My heart accelerated and my palms grew sweaty the closer I got.

His feet were slightly apart, his arms down to his sides, his fists clenched and his back stiff. He looked more like he belonged in a military formation than his wedding.

The moment I stood beside him, his jaw tightened and I swore, the muscle in his left cheek almost popped with how hard he was gritting his teeth.

My father clasped Kellan by the shoulder. “She’s yours now.”

And that was it.

Kellan didn’t respond. He barely even acknowledged my father’s words.

“Let's get this over with,” he said, looking at the priest.

My muscles twitched at the harshness in his voice. My nails dug into my palm and the pain soothed me.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” the priest began and I barely paid attention to what he was saying.

Blood rushed through my veins, and I swayed as the numbness slowly took over. I could hear the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears.

It was so loud that I wondered if Kellan could hear it. My legs trembled, feeling weaker than ever. I worried they would give up under me and I would end up taking my vows on my knees.

When it was time for us to speak our vows, the priest gestured for us to hold hands. Kellan grasped mine in his, shocking me that he was willingly touching me. I knew it was for the audience and the cameras flashing behind us but my skin tingle, even though his touch was barely a graze.

The priest started. “Kellan Easton, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony

To love her, to honour her, to comfort her, to cherish her. To keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” he said, his voice strong, but lacking any warmth.

The priest turned to me. “Olivia Brooke, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honour him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

I met his gaze without flinching. Kellan was marrying me for a whole different reason, but this was my way of surviving... giving back as much as I was being given.

“I do,” I repeated Kellan's earlier words.

“… Till death do us part.”

My eyes closed. “Till death do us part.”

It barely even registered to me that we were already exchanging our rings; my thoughts were scattered as the cold reality of this situation finally sank into my veins.

“…I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

His jaw tightened and I swore, the look in his eyes was deadly. I stood still as he moved closer and kissed my cheek.

Everyone began to clap and cameras flashed everywhere.

Mr Easton, Kellan's father came forward and took my hand, bringing it up so he could kiss the back of it. “Welcome to the family, Livia I got the daughter I have always wanted,” he said smoothly.

He turned us toward where everyone was seated.

“I present to you, my daughter-in-law, Olivia Easton.”

They clapped as if this was some joyous moment to celebrate, but it was all arranged and fake, and I was sick to my stomach.

And that was the beginning of my miserable married life.

Olivia Easton

My new name.

My new beginning.

Yet it was nothing but cold and confusing and hurtful.

Kellan Easton was more than just Stony; he was cold. He is loyal to the woman I'm his heart.