Oliver celebrated his thirtieth birthday with a large gathering, inviting many people, among which were old classmates and numerous unfamiliar people.
During the dinner, the group indulged in a game of Truth or Dare. "Mr. Grant, when are you marrying Charlotte?" someone asked. Charlotte, that's me. I've been by Oliver's side through thick and thin, from humble beginnings to his current success. I had been with him for years now, yet marriage remains uncharted territory to us
His response was casual, almost dismissive, "We'll see, no rush."
The reluctance in his tone stemmed from Eleanor, his true love, seated across the table. She had returned from abroad specifically for him. Even rumors whispered that he had already already arranged a position for her within his company.
Eleanor toyed with her wine glass, seemingly tipsy, as she posed a personal query, "May I ask Mr. Grant a personal question, is the person you like here with us tonight?" This sparked a wave of teasing among the crowd.
In front of everyone, Oliver took my hand, declaring, "The one I love is only Charlotte."
Upon hearing it, Eleanor's face fell, a momentary shock before bitterness seeped in, "Alright then."
Only I knew how tightly Oliver was gripping my hand, almost crushing it. He secretly wished for Eleanor's emotional breakdown, hoping she would beg for reconciliation at his feet.
Next, it was my turn. Unwilling to concede, Eleanor, her eyes misty, implored Oliver, "Mr. Grant, let her take on a dare, won't you?"
I stared at Oliver in disbelief, knowing full well the dare entailed downing a shot of 56-proof vodka. Yet, a mere plea from Eleanor could sway Oliver to disregard all else.
He agreed.
Eleanor, invigorated, pulled up a chair and approached with the drink in her hand. "It's more fun when she's drunk, don't you all want to see that?"
Back in school, Eleanor tricked me into drinking, stripping me of my clothes and snapping pictures – a memory etched in my mind ever since.
Panicked, I grabbed my bag. "I'm not playing anymore, I'm going home."
With an unexpected strength of Eleanor, along with others, held me back. "Charlotte, you have to accept your loss," she insisted.
"Oliver, please, I can't handle alcohol," I pleaded. Oliver, still seated at the table. He didn't bother to even lift his eyelids. "If you comply with her wish, I'll marry you," he stated coldly.
Eleanor forced open my jaw, pouring the fiery liquid down my throat.
It left me coughing uncontrollably. Some old classmates expressed concern, "Mr. Grant, is this really alright?"
To which he retorted with a mocking indifference, "It doesn't matter; she has dementia anyway. By tomorrow, she'll forget everything."
As I caught my breath, I lashed out at Oliver with a resounding slap.
Silence engulfed the room, broken only by the red mark blooming on Oliver's cheek.
Eleanor gasped, lunging forward, but Oliver pushed her away coldly. "It's fine, she's used to it," he said tersely.
