CHAPTER 3

This room was my safe haven, the only sanctuary in this big house where I found even a shred of peace. I sat cross-legged on the floor beside Mom's bed, moving chess pieces across the board I'd set up on the small table. Playing against myself wasn't as dull as it sounded-it just gave me something to focus on besides the quiet beeping of machines that kept my mother alive.

Soft music flowed from the speaker; Sinatra's voice filled the dead air, low and smooth in his croon. The sound of my voice came as a whisper: "Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars…"

I looked at Mom, very still, pale, and serene in her features. "You always loved this song," I whispered, as if she were listening. "Remember? You used to hum it as you cooked breakfast."

There was no answer. Never would there be an answer. Still, I continued talking, as if she may just respond. That way, it wasn't so hard to accept her silence.

I moved another chess piece, then sat back, looking at the board. "I think white's going to win this time," I said, forcing a small smile. "Not that you'd let me get away with that, huh?"

The atmosphere in the room changed in an instant, this heavy, stifling feeling clamping down tight on my chest. My smile wavered once the ice-cold shiver fell down my spine. Slowly I turned toward the doorway, and my heart sank.

There he was, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway. His face a mask of disdain, his sharp eyes pinned me in place. "Turn that off," he said in a low, cutting tone.

I stood frozen for a while, before I scrambled to follow his instruction. My fingers fumbled with the controls, stopping the music. The room went silent. His gaze was heavy, suffocatingly so, and I couldn't get rid of the nagging instinctive feeling that all the warmth, all the light had flushed out of the space.

"H-How can I help you, Samuel?" My voice seemed to fly out of my mouth almost of its own accord. Already, my heart could be heard pounding in my chest.

A sneer and yet a smile twisted his lips. "We are going to have a visitor tomorrow. A very important visitor. Guess what, Jenny?" Another step closer he got to me, his voice cold as an icy caress. "That visitor is going to be your husband."

My world seemed to tilt on its axis. "What?" I whispered, not comprehending what he had said.

He repeated slowly, as if for the impact of the words to seep in, "Your to-be husband is coming tomorrow. And you have no say in it."

I shook my head; it was just ridiculous to slowly sink in. "You can't be serious. I'm not-I'm not marrying anyone!"

He didn't flinch, didn't react. His eyes remained hard, his expression distant. "You don't get a choice," Samuel said, his voice low and final. "It's already done. The arrangements have been made."

I stood, the chessboard forgotten, my heart hammering. "No, I won't do it. I won't marry some stranger. You can't make me."

He cocked his head to one side, a look of mild amuse­ment cross­ing his face. "Oh, can't I?" He started walk­ing to­ward me, his steps slow and de­lib­er­ate. "You for­get, Jenny, I'm in con­trol here. If you don't go through with this, if you don't do as I say, I'll pull the plug on your moth­er.".

The words hit like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I felt dizzy, as if the earth was slipping from under my feet. "You wouldn't," I choked. Cracked under the weight of the threat.

Samuel didn't flinch. "Try me."

The room closed in on me. My breath caught, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn't breathe at all. The thought of losing her paralysed me-of being the one to let that happen. Turning my head back to Mom-laying frail, still in bed; the beeping of machines steady, keeping her tethered to life-all felt so very fragile.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered, my voice shaking with tears. "Why me?"

Samuel smiled again. This time it was a predator's look before he strikes. "Because you're convenient," he said in a smooth almost gentle tone. "And because I can. You don't matter to me, Jenny. But you're useful.".

I took another step backward, my mind reeling. "I won't do it," I said this time more firm and sought for some strength in my voice. "You can't make me.".

Sam turned to my mom and then back to me. "You're right.  I can't make you do anything. But you'll never forgive yourself for killing your mother. You're mother's life is in my hands, Jenny. I don't care how you feel about it. This is happening. Tomorrow."

The words cut through my skin, one word at a time, deeper with each passing moment. I felt captive, strangled under the yoke of his dominance. I wanted to scream, to throw something—anything—but it would not make a difference that way.

He didn't wait for me to have another say. "Dress up tomorrow," he said, his voice all at once light, as this was some ordinary errand. "Make sure you look pretty for your husband. He's going to want a nice presentable bride."

The thought turned my stomach. I wanted to scream at him, fight him, but one thing was perfectly clear: if I didn't do what he said, if I refused to comply, he would kill my mother. There was no room for defiance, no place for hope. Only fear.

Samuel gave me one final glance, that sneer still on his face, before he spun on his heel and strode from the room. The door clicked softly behind him, and I was left standing, staring at the empty doorway, my breathing ragged in my chest. And then they came, the flood of tears, hitting me in waves.

I fell to the floor, my body collapsing as I finally gave way to tears. My hands pushed into my face as I sobbed, the weight of it all breaking me down. I looked over at my mom-who had always been there for me, protected me, was there for me through every storm. Now she just lay there, silent, unable to offer me any comfort. The machines were keeping her alive, but they couldn't bring her back to me. They couldn't help me now.

 "Mom," I said hoarsely. "I don't know what to do. I'm so scared." I took a trembling breath, looking to the chessboard I had abandoned earlier. The game-the one with me playing both sides to pass the time-felt so trivial now. Life was no game. Samuel had seen to that. I had no choice. No avenue of escape.

 I was to be forced into an unwanted marriage-all in the interest of a man who cared only about control. To whom was he marrying me off? And what would become of me?