It All Started With A Lie

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Chapter 1: (Olivia's POV)

"Olivia!" my mom sang from downstairs in a British accent. 

"Yes, mother?" I asked, going downstairs in the kitchen where she was. 

"Call the peasants, my darling, we must get ready for the ball," she said dramatically. 

"The ball?" I asked, feigning confusion. 

"Will you two stop it, we're already running late on our plan. Liv, go get dressed, Maya, honey, please, get dressed," my dad said, coming out of his study. 

"So boring," my mom and I mumbled in sync. I went back upstairs, this time to the bathroom to shower and then get ready. We're going to a party tonight. 

My dad's friend, Mr. Thomas is hosting a party because it's his fifty years with his wife. Not fifty years of marriage, fifty years of knowing her. They've been together since high school, I believe. It's cute if you ask me. 

Once I stepped out of the shower, keeping my pre-straightened hair dry, I pulled on the robe that I've had since freshman year, yes, it still fits, and went downstairs. The doorbell rang just in time. I went downstairs and got the door. 

"Olivia," she sang. 

"Stella," I grinned. 

Stella is a woman who runs the boutique near our house. We buy dresses from there, get them dry-cleaned there, and altered to our fittings there all the time. "Here is your dress you got the other day, your mother picked hers up earlier, enjoy the night okay?" she grinned. 

"Thank you so much," I smiled. She left once I took the dress and headed upstairs, seeing my dad already ready. "Ten minutes, father," I said, sprinting upstairs and laying the dress out onto my bed. It was getting stuffy in my room so I pushed the window open, instantly regretting it. 

"Olive," he smirked. 

"Miles," I said with a sarcastic smile. 

"That's not my name," he said, as he always does. 

"It's your middle name," I shrugged, as I always do. 

"I don't call you-" he stopped talking when he realized he doesn't know my middle name. He doesn't know it because I don't have one. I gave him a smug look. "I'll find out your middle name one day, Olive," he nodded. 

"That's not my name," I huffed. 

"Isn't it, Olive?" he winked.

I rolled my eyes, leaning forward, holding onto the windowsill. "Ethan," I sang. 

"She knows my name," he smirked. 

"She does," I nodded, "And she tells you: suck my dick," I grinned before closing the window and the blinds. I went and threw a little bit of makeup on, not too much, and then pulled on the dress, letting my hair down and brushing it out. I was pulling my heels on when my dad came in. 

"Liv, we're-" 

"Ready!" I said, shooting up. I grabbed my clutch that I made ready earlier and followed him downstairs and out the door, to the car. We all filed into the car, I sat in the back and my parents sat upfront with my dad driving. 

"Remember, Liv, Mr. Thomas-" 

"Is your friend from college who now runs a company in New York but he runs it from here because he's so in love with his wife that when she wanted to move back home, he couldn't help but agree to make her happy. Hence, the company is a sensitive spot, I am not to talk about it. Right?"