Twisted Vow

The Wedding Without Love

"Stand still, please,” the dressmaker tells Olivia six days later at the luxurious bridal boutique. Pins clutched between her lips as she adjusts the hemline of Olivia's wedding dress.

“I think it's okay now,” the dressmaker says, moving back to give Olivia a once over. She nods with a curt smile. “You are good to go, ma'am.”

Olivia looks at herself in the floor length mirror beside her. She runs her hands along her body; the gown is exquisite; off-the-shoulder, dripping in crystals, its train cascading behind her like a river of diamonds. The dress of a princess.

It is the most expensive fabric Olivia has ever touched in her life. In fact, she had touched the most expensive things she never dreamed of coming close to in her life in the last five days.

Her life takes a dramatic turn around the moment she signs the marriage contract with Brandon. He takes her to the jewelry shop that night, asking her to choose any engagement ring of her choice and before she wakes up the next morning almost all the tabloids and blogs carry the news that Brandon Sterling, the CEO of Sterling Enterprises is engaged to the love of his life.

The corporate world is agog with whispers about the whirlwind engagement. Socialites sip champagne at exclusive clubs, gossiping about the mystery woman who managed to ensnare Brandon Sterling.

“Who is Olivia Carter?” That is the question that appears on everyone's lips.

"You look absolutely perfect," says Camille, Brandon's personal assistant, who looks away briefly from her phone. "Mr. Sterling will be pleased.”

‘‘Yes, he would be,’’ Olivia agrees with her, forcing a smile.

Brandon, along with his numerous assistants had taken every decision about their wedding as expected.

Her dress, the flowers, the guest list; all, dictated by Brandon’s team. She barely has time to breathe, She was being whisked from one fitting to another, one shopping spree from another; the entire wedding planned at an inhuman pace. She knows she can't complain, an agreement is an agreement.

Three of Brandon's other assistants hover nearby, tapping on tablets and speaking in hushed tones.

"The car will be here in twenty minutes to take you to the venue," Camille announces. "Everything is on schedule."

The car arrives exactly seventeen minutes later.

“The car is here,” Joshua, one of the assistants said, removing the phone from his ear.

“Your car is here, Miss. Carter,” Camille says.

She walks Olivia to the car and in no time they arrive at the church. The wedding march begins, and the doors swing open to reveal hundreds of faces; business associates, celebrities, politicians.

She takes a deep breath and says to herself, ‘this is a business, a contract, let the show begin.’ Then she takes her first step down the aisle towards her ‘husband.’

The congregation rises, everyone turning to catch a glimpse of the mystery bride.

And at the end of the aisle stands Brandon, impeccable in a custom tuxedo, his posture rigid, his face impassive. As she draws closer, his eyes meet hers, and a chill runs down her spine.

She wonders again if she's doing the right thing.

There's no warmth there, no love, no anticipation; just cold calculation. But she knew it's too late and too dangerous to turn back now.

‘What are you doing, Olivia Carter?’ The thought blasts through her mind, but her feet keep moving, drawn forward by some invisible force of her all she would do with the money offer.

The vows are a blur to her, she just wants to get things done as quickly as possible. She speaks when prompted, her voice sounding distant and unfamiliar to her own ears. Brandon's responses are crisp and precise, like closing statements in a business deal. He seems to have everything under control.

The minister's voice drones on about love and commitment, words that feel hollow in this cathedral filled with power and pretense.

"The rings, please," the minister says.

Brandon's best man; his CFO, hands over a platinum band studded with diamonds to the priest. The priest blesses the ring and the couple exchange them accordingly.

“Done,” Olivia thinks, her heart hammering against her ribs. For the first time, she wonders how to get by in the next twelve months.

And then, the cathedral doors burst open with a bang that echoes through the building. Heads turn. Gasps ripple through the crowd like a wave.

A woman stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. As she steps forward, Olivia sees her clearly; tall, with raven hair cascading over bare shoulders, wearing a dress the color of fresh blood. The crimson fabric clings to her curves, a stark contrast to the sea of pastels and blacks filling the pews.

But it's Brandon's reaction that freezes Olivia's blood. His hand, still holding hers, suddenly tightens to the point of pain. She glances up at his face and sees something she's never seen before; fear, in its raw form.

The woman strides down the aisle, her heels clicking against marble in a rhythm that sounds like a countdown. No one moves to stop her. Even the security personnel Brandon insisted on having, just looks on paralyzed in a spot.

She stops ten feet away from the altar, her crimson lips curving into a smile that holds no warmth.

"Isabella," Brandon breathes, so quietly that only Olivia and the minister can hear what he was saying.

‘Isabella? Who could she be?’ Olivia’s mind reels with questions.

"Did you miss me, Brandon?" Isabella says with a devilish smile, her voice dripping with venom, each word seems like a dart. "You look surprised. Didn't you get my RSVP?"

The crowd gasps collectively. The air in the cathedral turns electric. Olivia feels the blood drain from her face as she looks from Brandon to Isabella and back again.

‘What is the meaning of what she just said?’ Olivia wonders, her mind racing. ‘And why does her presence terrify the mighty Brandon, who fears nothing.’