Bride By Deadline

OLIVIA

The champagne glass wobbled in my grasp as I reached for another empty glass, stacking it onto my already full tray. My wrist ached from all the weight, but I ignored it. I had no choice.

“Olivia, be quick about it!” My mother’s sharp whisper cut through the music. She stood near the grand staircase, her gown glowing under the chandelier. To the guests, she looked graceful, elegant. To me, she was a warden, keeping me in line.

“Yes, Mom,” I murmured, bowing my head slightly before hurrying toward the kitchen.

The staff barely acknowledged me as I set the tray down, my fingers numb from gripping the fragile glasses too tightly. I wasn’t one of them, yet I wasn’t a guest either. I existed in the space between.. seen, but only as someone meant to serve.

I took a breath, forcing my shoulders back before heading out again. The party wasn’t over. And until it was, neither was my job.

I weaved through the crowd, smiling when necessary, nodding when spoken to. I refilled glasses, cleared plates, adjusted decorations. My parents had taught me well, efficiency, grace, perfection.

And I played my role flawlessly.

My parents were obsessed with appearances, with reputation. My father, a respected businessman. My mother, a beloved philanthropist. Together, they formed a power couple admired by all. And then there was me, their carefully molded first daughter. The responsible one. The hardworking one.

But never the loved one.

I knew the truth, though I never spoke it aloud. I wasn’t their daughter.. not truly. At least, it never felt like I was. They never looked at me the way they looked at her.

Charlotte.

Their real daughter. Their golden child.

I was just the extra. The one who filled in the gaps, who made their lives easier.

“Olivia, fix the flowers on the main table,” my mother ordered in passing. She didn’t even glance at me.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “Of course.”

I hurried over, smoothing out the petals, adjusting the centerpiece to perfection. The guests continued laughing, drinking, celebrating none of them noticing how I was being stretched thin.

It was always like this.

Every party, every event, it was never for me. It was always for Charlotte.

I glanced toward the grand entrance, my stomach tightening. Not tonight. I knew that. But soon.

Damien would come soon. My boyfriend.

I had been pushing for it, waiting for it, reminding him how much this meant to me. I needed him to speak to my parents, to finally make it real. To take me away from this house, this life where I was nothing but a shadow. And he had promised. He promised.

The thought of it was the only thing keeping me together.

I had spent years bending under my parents’ expectations, wearing the mask of the perfect daughter. The responsible one. The hardworking one. The one who put her family’s needs above her own. And yet, I was never enough. Never loved. Never chosen.

But Damien chose me.

With him, I wasn’t invisible. I wasn’t a tool for appearances or a pawn in someone else’s perfect life. I was Olivia. I mattered.

I clung to that certainty.

One day soon, he would come. He would stand before my parents, steady and sure, and ask for my hand. And then I would finally be free.

I allowed myself a small smile,just for a moment,before a wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

And then she arrived.

Charlotte.

She walked in like she owned the room, dressed in an expensive midnight-blue gown that clung to her like it was made just for her. The guests turned, their admiration palpable.

She was beautiful. Perfect. Everything they adored.

She walked past me without a glance, her head held high.

Like I didn’t exist.

I clenched my fists. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I wasn’t worth acknowledging, not tonight anyway..

But still, it stung.

Charlotte stood in the middle of the grand dining hall, the chandelier’s light shining down on her.

She was dazzling. She was admired. She was everything I wasn’t.

The room was filled with laughter and the clinking of fine glasses as the scent of gourmet dishes wafting through the air. A celebration. A night for my sister.

I continued my work as I wove through the crowd, unnoticed as always, picking up an empty wine glass from a table when my mother’s voice rang through the speakers.

“Everyone, may I have your attention, please?”

The room quieted, and all eyes turned to the woman standing proudly near the head of the table, microphone in hand. My mother looked radiant in an emerald green gown, the perfect hostess, the perfect wife, the perfect mother.

At least, to one of her daughters.

“I just wanted to take a moment to express how incredibly proud I am,” she continued, her voice warm, full of emotion. “Tonight, we celebrate my youngest daughter, Charlotte, for her outstanding achievements in the family company. She has shown true dedication, intelligence, and leadership, proving that she is more than capable of carrying on our legacy.”

Applause filled the room. Cheers. Congratulations.

I swallowed, feeling a familiar sting behind my eyes.

Of course. Of course, she deserved the praise—she worked hard, she was brilliant—but still… just once, I wished I could hear those words directed at me.

Just once.

I forced a smile as I clapped, blinking back the threatening tears. This wasn’t the time. I had learned long ago not to expect anything.

“Charlotte, my darling,” my mother continued, reaching out for her hand. “You make us so proud.”

Charlotte beamed, stepping forward to take the mic. “Thank you, Mother,” she said, her voice smooth, practiced. “Thank you, everyone, for being here tonight. But—” She turned, scanning the room. “Before we go on, I actually have something important to share.”

The crowd murmured, intrigued.

She glanced toward me. “Olivia, come here.”

I hesitated, caught off guard. “Me?”

She nodded, her smile unwavering. “Yes, come.”

Uneasy, I stepped forward, my heart picking up speed. What was she doing?

Charlotte turned back to the crowd, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I wanted to share this moment with my family first because it means so much to me. Everyone, I have been proposed to, and I’ve said yes!”

The room erupted. Gasps. Cheers. Excited whispers.

My mother pressed a hand to her chest in delight, my father’s brows lifted in pleased surprise. The guests clapped, raising their glasses in a toast.

Charlotte grinned. “My fiancé and I don’t want to wait. We’ve decided to get married as soon as possible.”

More cheers. More applause.

I forced my lips into a small, polite smile, but inside, something shifted.

Married. She was getting married.

My parents exchanged glances before my father spoke up. “Charlotte, my dear, this is wonderful news. But…” He turned to me. “Olivia, you are the eldest.”

My mother nodded, addressing the guests with an apologetic smile. “In our family, tradition dictates that the eldest must marry first.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

My father looked at me expectantly. “Olivia, we cannot break tradition. We must see to it that you are married before Charlotte’s wedding.”

For the first time in a long while, I felt hope.

This was it.

This was my chance.

I cleared my throat, trying to contain the trembling in my voice. “That’s fine,” I said, glancing at my mother, then my father. “I— I have someone. He has already shown intentions of marrying me.”

Charlotte let out a sudden laugh.

A cruel, knowing laugh.

Something in my chest tightened.

“Oh, Olivia,” she said, shaking her head. “You really are slow, aren’t you?”

The room stilled.

My stomach knotted. “What?”

She lifted her hand. “Come here, my love.”

And then I saw him.

Walking through the crowd, toward my sister, toward me.

Damien.

His black suit fit him perfectly, his hair neatly styled, his face calm, unreadable.

I blinked. No. No, this wasn’t—

Charlotte turned to him, beaming. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce my fiancé—Damien.”

The air left my lungs.

I felt like I had been struck, the world tilting, crashing.

Damien. My Damien.

My lips parted, but no words came.

He reached for Charlotte’s hand, lacing their fingers together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I forced out a weak, “No… no, this—” My head shook. “This isn’t real. This is a joke, right?”

Charlotte’s lips curled. “Oh, Olivia, wake up.”

I turned to Damien, searching for something—an explanation, a denial, anything.

But he met my gaze with nothing but cold indifference.

“Damien?” My voice broke.

His expression didn’t change. “I love Charlotte.”

A sharp, splintering pain shot through my chest.

I stumbled back, shaking my head. “No. No, you don’t—”

“We’ve been together for a long time,” Charlotte cut in, smiling sweetly. “I mean, he tried with you, but really, it was always me.”

I s*ck*d in a shaky breath. “Damien… please…”

He sighed, exasperated, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “Olivia, it was never serious with you.”

A fresh wave of humiliation crashed over me.

The guests whispered, watching, waiting.

I felt stripped bare, exposed.

I clenched my fists. “You told me you loved me,” I whispered, voice trembling.

Damien’s lips twitched in something close to pity. “I liked you.”

Tears burned in my eyes.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

My mother cleared her throat, smoothing over the tension with a polite smile. “Well,” she said, regaining control of the moment. “This is unexpected, but it changes nothing.”

She turned to me, her eyes sharp. “Olivia, this means you must marry soon.”

I barely heard her. My world was crumbling.

My father nodded, his voice final. “Five days, Olivia.”

I blinked. “What?”

“If you cannot secure a husband in five days, we will arrange a marriage for you,” my mother said smoothly, as if she were discussing dinner plans.

I jerked my head toward her. “You can’t be serious.”

My mother’s lips thinned. “You know how things work in this family.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “You’re giving me five days to find a husband?”

“Five days,” my father repeated, unyielding.

I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening. “This isn’t fair,” I choked. “This isn’t—”

“Then you should have been quicker,” my mother cut in, her tone cool. “You lost Damien to your sister because you weren’t fast enough. We cannot delay Charlotte’s happiness for your sake.”

A deep, painful sob escaped my lips.

They were blaming me.

As if I hadn’t just had my heart shattered in front of everyone. As if I hadn’t just lost the one thing—the one person—I thought I could count on.

“Five days, Olivia,” my mother said one last time, before turning away.

And just like that, the discussion was over.

But my world?

My world had just ended.

OLIVIA

The Morning After I woke up to the sharp, pulsing pain behind my eyes.

My head ached so badly it felt like it might split open, the result of too many tears and too little sleep. My eyes were sore, swollen, the skin around them raw from wiping them over and over.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, hoping—just for a second—that it had all been a bad dream. That none of it had happened.

But deep down, I knew better.

Charlotte had really stood there, glowing, announcing her engagement.

To Damien.

Damien, the man who had promised me forever.

I s*ck*d in a breath, willing the pain to dull, but it didn’t. It sat there, heavy in my chest, pressing down on me.

I had cried all night, and now, there was nothing left. No more tears, just an empty hollowness that I didn’t know how to fill.

A loud bang echoed from downstairs, followed by my mother’s sharp voi