Olivia Sparks

"Twenty-six years ago, my dear wife Amelia got into an accident that almost took her life," Henry Lin started. His eyes almost teary, most of the audience fell for it.

"By divine intervention, my wife and Olivia survived the crash; however, the culprit behind the accident was never found. Hence, as a father, I wanted the best for Olivia, so I sent her to England where she would be safe from any harm and threats that would take her life.

"And now that she is of age and I am old it is only of her best interest that I give her hand to someone capable of keeping her safe and that is none other than Tristan Yang."

He clamped his hand in Tristan's shoulders, his eyes glued to the audience, never glancing at Olivia who was an arm's length away from him. 

Raising his flute, Henry Lin gave a toast. "To Tristan and Olivia."

"To Tristan and Olivia," the guests chanted. The sound of clinking glasses filled the air, urging Tristan and Olivia to share a kiss.

Awkwardly, Tristan cheek kissed Olivia and the two exchanged inconspicuous eyerolls before they faced their audience and bowed.

As the thunderous claps died down, Olivia and Tristan stepped down the stage and went straight to the private room of the ballroom hall to discuss what just slapped them on the face. 

Everyone with a pair of working eyes witnessed what happened. And everyone knew the engagement was to whitewash Olivia's sullied name after she made a scene at Lance and Selena's Ting Hun.

"What the hell is going on, Ava?" Emily asked, smiling behind her flute to mask the distress in her face.

"Tell me about it. I was just as shocked as you are." Ava popped a Choux à la Crème in her mouth, stress-eating at the sudden turn of events. "Does Wyatt know about her and Maxen?"

Emily drew her gaze from Ava to Wyatt, then back to Ava again. She sighed. "Yes but he doesn't know the tiny details like… because...Wyatt and I haven't talked about anything, really. He's busy, and I'm busy. We're busy people, ok?" 

She grabbed the dessert on Ava's hand and angrily chewed on it.

Unsure whether she should poke her nose into Emily's problem, Ava stood rooted in her spot and paused to think. 

Seeing Emily munch on the tiny ball of fluffy heaven, she picked one more on the table and passed it to Emily. She decided it's best to wait for Emily to open up to her.

"Convince him to stay quiet so news won't reach Maxen's ears because if that happens, that would pose a bigger problem." Ava took a sip of her wine.

"I think so too," Emily agreed, gesturing for another dessert which Ava obliged, passing another Choux à la Crème to Emily.

Across the two ladies, by the bar, Wyatt and Oliver found themselves a safe spot away from the crowd.

"Look at you, brother. Setting me up with your sister days ago when she's engaged to someone else," Wyatt playfully jabbed Oliver's arm. But instead of rebutting, the latter silently sat on the barstool.

Wyatt scanned his friend's face, worried at how Oliver's attention seemed to be somewhere else.

Swirling his finger on the rim of his glass, Oliver scornfully derided, "I don't know, brother. I didn't know what got into our father's head this time. Sending her away for years and now surprising her with an engagement." 

He gulped down his drink, glancing at Wyatt who gave him a comforting tap at the back. He winced when the rush of alcohol drew a burning path in his throat. 

Placing down his glass, he asked Wyatt, "Speaking of engagement, when are you planning to propose? Knowing Emily, she's waiting for you to pop the question. How long have you guys been dating again?"

"Does it matter how long we've been dating?" Wyatt scratched the back of his head. He wanted to dodge Oliver's line of questioning because he didn't know what to say. 

He wanted it too. 

He wanted Emily so badly but he's just not ready. 

Something beeped in one of his pockets and he knew which phone to get, smiling as he read the message.

Oliver sneered at his friend. "I guess I just saw the answer that I'm looking for."

"What?" The smile on Wyatt's face never faded as he darted his gaze from his phone to Oliver.

"That. You." Oliver hovered his hand on his face then pointed an accusing finger on Wyatt.

"What me? Why are you speaking in code? Jeez, Oliver. Just say it." Wyatt swatted Oliver's hand away and hid the phone back in his pocket after he sent a reply.

Oliver gritted, "If you can't be honest with Emily, just break things up with her. Do her a favor, not as her lover but as her longtime friend. Ava's hanging out lately with her and I don't want my wife hearing things from Emily once you and guys break up because you can't keep your hands to yourself." 

"Please don't play saint on me, Ollie. We both know you and Maxen were far worse than me." When Oliver's ears turned red as he straightened his spine, Wyatt added, "And let's not argue here. People are watching us." 

Wyatt motioned for the bartender, sliding his glass to the latter to get another shot of his drink. He found it funny that someone like Ollie would give him advice on fidelity. 

The two friends brood in silence. They knew if they utter one more word, things would blow up into a catastrophic fight.

Wrapping an arm on his wife, Oliver kissed the crook of Ava's neck and scanned the room.

"Has anyone seen Maxen?" He raised a brow when he saw no dumb-looking prince in the crowd.

The three—Ava, Emily, and Wyatt—exchanged glances before Wyatt dialed a number on his phone.

It didn't take long before Maxen picked up the call, looking sea-sick in his bed. Red, puffy eyebags complimented his face.

"What the? You look shit, brother. Where the heck are you?" Oliver asked as he's the only person who wasn't in the loop of the score between Olivia and Maxen.

"I'm having the time of my life in the middle of the Indian Ocean, Ollie. Thanks for your concern. How's the party?" Maxen's eyes wandered, expecting to see Olivia.

Emily grabbed the phone from Wyatt and used it as a mirror, fixing her hair as she spoke, "Nothing special, same old loud and boring party. See? We're here at the bar where the fun is at."

Maxen poured himself a cup of water and tilted his head, hoping yet again to catch a glimpse of Olivia.

When his patience ran out, he tried to sound as calmly as possible so as not to alert Oliver of his overexcitement.

"Can I see the birthday girl? I want to greet her."

The booming music from the live band didn't hinder Oliver from hearing what Maxen said. He immediately got off his stool and took the phone from Emily.

"She's in the private room having a word with our father. Now if you'll excuse us, we're going to the dance floor and enjoy the rest of the night while you dance to waves of the Indian Ocean."

Before Maxen could open his mouth, Oliver dropped the call and threw the phone to Wyatt who caught it with one hand.

"Sweetie!" Ava stomped her foot. "That's rude of you to drop the call."

Avoiding Ava's scathing glare, he entwined their hands and guided her to the dance floor. Once they reached the center, he held the small of her back and glued her body to his.

"Do you know what's rude, sweetie?" Oliver breathed into Ava's ear. "Showing that hopeless romantic look just as he mentioned 'the birthday girl' when he said nights ago that he already found the love of his life."

Draping her arms in his broad shoulders, Ava planted a chaste kiss on Oliver's lips when she couldn't find the courage in her to answer back.

How could she tell her husband that Maxen did find the love of his life and that lady was Olivia? Even if she screamed the truth right now, it would only make matters worse especially now that Olivia's engagement was publicly announced.

Oliver tightened his hold on Ava's waist after she pulled away from their kiss and beamed at Ava's sudden display of affection. He was so elated that he failed to see the worry in Ava's eyes.

The pair hugged as they swayed to the music, however, Ava's eyes never left the direction where the private room was.

In the courtyard of the private room, Olivia and Tristan shared a seat on the swinging chair.

She flicked her lighter on, burning the tip of her cigar, a clear sign of how stressed she was at the moment. 

With his palms up, Tristan bummed a cigar from her, filling his lungs with enough nicotine to calm his nerves.

Puffing the smoke, Tristan mused, "What luck do I have, Olivia? If I don't agree with this engagement, you will get my head rolling on the floor. But if we do proceed, Maxen will be the one hacking my head on the chopping block."

"Good for you then. You have 30 days to plan for your funeral."