As Olívia and her sorry excuse for a father got closer, their expressions shifted. They realized I was standing there, not Jorel.

I thought Olívia might bolt, refuse, back out because it was me. But she didn’t. She kept smiling, like this was the happiest day of her life.

Her brown eyes sparkled under the makeup. Her lashes were thicker, curvier than the last time I saw her. Her lips, glossy and full, looked even bigger. She could’ve easily looked hideous. But she didn’t… even in that ...