Chapter 2

The days that followed were a blur of suffocating grief and cold, calculated planning. Olivia went through the motions, meeting with wedding planners, tasting cakes, her face a numb mask. Every smile she forced felt like a betrayal to Ethan.

One evening, she couldn't take it anymore. Michael was in their shared apartment, looking over some business papers as if he hadn't just murdered her brother.

"We need to talk," Olivia said, her voice hollow.

Michael didn't look up. "About the flower arrangements? I prefer lilies. Tiffany loves them."

The casual mention of Tiffany' s name made Olivia' s blood run cold. "I'm not marrying you, Michael."

He finally looked at her, his eyes devoid of any emotion. "We've been over this, Olivia. The wedding is happening. Don't make me remind you about your parents."

"You killed my brother," she whispered, the words tearing at her throat. "You strapped him to that ride and you killed him."

Michael sighed, a sound of theatrical annoyance. "That was a tragic accident. The park is taking full responsibility. It's all very sad, but it has nothing to do with me. You're emotional. It's understandable, given your loss."

The denial, so calm and complete, was more shocking than any confession. He truly believed he could rewrite reality. "I was there! I saw you break the remote!"

"You were hysterical," he said smoothly. "Grief can make people imagine things." He stood up and walked toward her, his presence overwhelming the room. "Let's not talk about this again. It's unpleasant." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I have a surprise for you."

He pulled out his phone. It was a video call. Tiffany' s face filled the screen, her expression one of faux concern. "Oh, Olivia, darling," she cooed. "I heard about poor Ethan. It's just terrible. Michael has been so worried about you."

Olivia stared at the screen, mute with rage.

"She feels so bad, she wants to help," Michael said. He swiped to another video. It was a live feed from a hospital room. Her parents. Her mother was sleeping fitfully, an IV in her arm. Her father was talking to a doctor, his face etched with worry. Olivia knew her father's heart medication was critical, and her mother's treatment for her chronic illness required constant, expensive care.

"I just spoke to the hospital administrator," Michael said, his voice dropping to a low threat. "Your parents' treatment plan is under review. Apparently, there's a funding issue. One phone call from me, Olivia. That's all it takes."

Tears streamed down Olivia's face. She was utterly powerless. "What do you want from me?"

"Tiffany has an idea," Michael said, turning the phone back to Tiffany' s smiling face. "She thinks we should move up the wedding. A happy occasion to help everyone move on from this... sadness. We have ten minutes to book the new, earlier date with the venue. Or the hospital gets a call."

"Please, don't," Olivia begged, her voice breaking. "Don't do this."

"The clock is ticking," Tiffany sang from the phone. "Nine minutes."

Olivia could hear the faint beeping of her mother's heart monitor in the background of the video. It was a drumbeat counting down to disaster. She felt like she was suffocating. Every instinct screamed at her to fight, to run, to claw his eyes out. But the image of her parents, so vulnerable and so far away, chained her to the spot.

"Tell me what you think of my dress," Tiffany said suddenly, and the video feed switched. Tiffany was standing in a bridal boutique, wearing a stunning, extravagant wedding gown. It was a dress Olivia had bookmarked just weeks ago. "Michael said it was made for me. Don't you think so?"

Olivia' s explanation of why she couldn' t possibly get married so soon, her pleas for time to grieve, were met with laughter. Michael held the phone so she could hear Tiffany's mocking giggles clearly. "She's so dramatic," Tiffany said. "Just tell her to say yes, Michael. I'm getting bored."

"Three minutes," Michael said, his eyes fixed on her.

The fight drained out of her, replaced by a cold, hollow despair. "Fine," she choked out. "Fine. You win. Book the date."

Michael smiled, a victor's smile. He made the call right in front of her, confirming the new, horribly soon wedding date. Then he turned his attention back to the video of her parents.

"Just so you understand I'm serious," he said. He spoke into the phone to someone on the other end. "This is Michael Thompson. Yes, regarding the Reynolds. Suspend Mrs. Reynolds's next treatment. We'll re-evaluate in 24 hours."

On the live feed, Olivia watched in horror as a nurse came into her mother's room, spoke briefly to her father, and then removed the IV bag. Her mother stirred, looking confused. Her father rushed to her side, his face a mask of panic and confusion.

Olivia crumpled to the floor, a strangled sob escaping her lips. This was her life now. A cage where every bar was forged from the safety of the people she loved.