Engagement announcement
Maeve trudged through the front door, dropping her bag on the floor. The empty silence of her home enveloped her, a fleeting solace. School had been unbearable, Mr. Thompson's rejection and Oliver's betrayal swirling in her mind. She climbed the stairs, each step heavy with exhaustion. Her bedroom beckoned, a sanctuary from the chaos.
Maeve collapsed onto her bed, surrounded by plush pillows and soft blankets. The familiar scent of lavender wafted up, calming her frayed nerves. She buried her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. For a moment, she forgot the pain, the anger, the constant struggle to maintain control. Her thoughts drifted to a life untainted by deceit and betrayal.
"If only..." Maeve whispered, her voice barely audible.
She envisioned a different life, one where she wasn't the daughter of a powerful family. No expectations, no pressure, no constant scrutiny.
"Doting parents," she fantasized, "who always supported her, never judging or manipulating."
In this fantasy, Maeve saw herself free from the weight of her title. She would have never met a man like Mr. Thompson. Good riddance. But also she wouldn't have met Oliver.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as reality intruded. This life wasn't hers. She was trapped in a web of secrets and lies, forced to wear a mask of perfection. Maeve's gaze fell upon a photo on her nightstand; her family a stoic expression plastered on each one of their faces, not even the slightest façade of happiness. She turned it face-down, the resentment still raw.
Her phone buzzed, shrill in the silence. Maeve ignored it, letting the messages pile up. She didn't have the strength to face anyone. The lavender scent enveloped her once more, a fragile refuge from the turmoil. Maeve closed her eyes, clinging to the fleeting peace.
But It was short-lived.
The doors to her room creaked open. Fleeting peace was barely a figment of her thoughts. She didn't bother to open her eyes, recognising the sound of clicking heels and the heavy scent of Maverick's No1 scent.
Cecilia.
"You seem at a loss for words. That's something I find strange," Cecilia commented, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Maeve's eyes snapped open, glaring at Cecilia "State your business and leave," she spat harshly, her tone a warning. Cecilia smirked, unfazed by Maeve's hostility. "Oh, I'm here to remind you of the important family dinner." Maeve scoffed.
"When is the dinner ever not important, and how is it family dinner when we have strangers eating with us every time," Maeve said, her tone dripping with annoyance.
"Father expects you to be there with your best manners," she mutters under her breath, "Though I know you don't possess even the slightest. But..." Cecilia's hands clasped together loudly, causing Maeve to let out a small groan at the sound. "If you can't at least do that, don't even bother showing yourself. That's all."
Maeve's eyes narrowed, "I'll be there." Cecilia's gaze lingered on Maeve's face before turning to leave. "I'm sure you will." The door closed, leaving Maeve with a sense of dread. The peace she had sought was shattered, replaced by the cold reality of her family's expectations.
The dining room shimmered with crystal and silverware, the aroma of the fine cuisine wafting through the air. Maeve's family gathered, their faces expectant. Maeve entered her expression a mask of indifference, it was crafted to conceal her turmoil. Her eyes were dull and lifeless. She took her seat beside Cecilia, who flashed a saccharine smile, her basic attempt to provoke.
"Good evening, darling," Victoria cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, as a helper placed her serving dish in front of her. The helper's hands moved with precision, a testament to the family's strict expectations.
Maeve murmured a greeting, her eyes fixed on her plate, avoiding eye contact. Her gaze lingered on the intricately folded napkin, a symbol of the suffocating etiquette. Her father, Henry Donahue, cleared his throat, commanding attention.
"You finally decided to join us" Henry stated, his tone laced with disapproval, a subtle reminder of Maeve's growing disobedience. His eyes narrowed scrutinizing her, searching for any sign of weakness.
Victoria intervened her voice a melodic attempt to diffuse tension. "Henry, dear, let's not focus on Maeve's tardiness. Tonight, we have a simple dinner with family."
Family?
Maeve's eyes drifted to the other guests seated with them on the table.
Ohhh...
The Brighton family, they were a powerful family even more so than Alexander's family, with influential connections. They were seated at her left, their son seated across from her. Maeve reached for a drink, taking a slow but small sip. The slight curve in her lips when she glanced at Cecilia who seemed to try and engage with him. Her smile was ever so radiant. Cecilia seemed well-dressed for an evening dinner. Maeve could only hide her amusement.
Cecilia chimed in, her sweet tone meant only to flatter. "We're so delighted that you could join us for dinner this evening,"
Henry's Donahue cleared his throat, his voice boomed through the dining room, "Evening to you all, I'm delighted that we could have this union, though unprepared as it may be"
Mrs. Brighton laughed, with a small wave. "This is simply marvellous, and your daughters are wonderful. I'm so happy we could finally get to meet them," Maeve fought back an eye roll. Mrs. Brighton turned to her with the warmest smile. " We would be delighted to get to know all of you."
"Then I should not delay this announcement any further," Henry said. Maeve buried her face while taking a sip of her drink. He lifted his glass. "I'm making a toast to announce the engagement of my daughter, Maeve, to Edward Brighton."
Maeve choked on the wine in her mouth, she gasped and coughed to regain herself from what she thought she had heard. All eyes focused on her. Edward had urgently reached out to her with a napkin to aid her discomfort. She swatted the napkin from him, her glare directed at him.
She turned to her father, her eyes widened in shock, her mind reeling. This can't be happening. She assumed this was all planned for Cecilia, how did she enter the picture? For all, she knew he never concerned himself with any matter that related to her. Why all of a sudden?
She opened her mouth to object, but her father's stern gaze silenced her. "The matter has been discussed and closed. Don't embarrass me any further in front of our guests." The unspoken threat hung in the air; you dare not refuse or else.
Maeve glanced at Cecilia, expecting the same baffled expression as hers. But she was indifferent. Her attention to the bowl of soup she had asked for. Cecilia would never condone the act of Maeve getting engaged before her. Why was she calm? If father heard her pleas he would reconsider. Maeve's burning gaze caught Cecilia's attention. Her fleeting glance revealed her hidden smile- she knew. She must have convinced their father about this ridiculous engagement.
She glanced at her mother, who smiled sweetly at Mrs. Brighton, she had whispered a congratulation on their end. Maeve clutched her utensil tightly. Her glare burned into every one of the faces. Her own family betrayed her. Every one of them was on it and they decided to engage her without telling her anything about it.
Her fork stabbed into the tender meat placed on her plate. Her anger seethed. Henry continued, oblivious to Maeve's turmoil. "Their official engagement will be announced after Maeve's graduation during the evening event hosted by the Donahue family in celebration of this wonderful union." The room erupted into applause. Maeve's face burned with humiliation and rage.
She decided she had heard enough. Maeve pushed back her chair, her eyes locked on her father. "If you will excuse me," she muttered, rising from her seat.
"Maeve sit down!" Henry barked, his voice echoing through the room. But Maeve didn't listen. She turned and fled the dining room, ascending the stairs to her bedroom. The evening dinner continued a façade of joy and celebration.