THE GENESIS

A sharp knock shattered the silence of the Haven household just before midnight, echoing through the small wooden cottage like a harbinger of ruin.

David Haven froze by the hearth, the poker in his hand stilled mid-stir in the weak fire. Across the room, his wife lifted her head from her worn patchwork cushion, and Aliyah sat bolt upright on her cot, heart slamming against her ribs.

“Who is it?” David called out, voice shaking.

There was a pause, then a crisp voice answered, “Mr. Haven? I’m here on behalf of Señor Pedro Perez.”

Aliyah's breath caught. The name felt foreign, dangerous, too big to belong in a house like theirs.

David opened the door, and the cold night wind swept in alongside a tall man in a charcoal-gray coat. His shoes clicked against the old wooden floor, too clean, too loud. In his gloved hands, he held an envelope with a wax seal pressed in gold.

“My name is Kingsley,” he said smoothly. “I come bearing a proposal.”

Aliyah stood slowly, blanket clutched around her shoulders. She could feel her mother's eyes on her, wide with dread. Mr. Kingsley placed the envelope on their dinner table and looked straight at David.

“Señor Perez requires a wife. Discreetly. Your daughter, Aliyah Haven, has been selected.”

A silence so thick followed; it seemed to collapse the room. David blinked. “Selected?” he whispered.

Kingsley nodded. “She meets the requirements: age, health, lineage. In return, your debts will be erased, and a generous sum deposited to secure your future.”

“No,” Aliyah breathed, but no one heard her.

David’s hands shook as he opened the letter. His eyes moved quickly across the page. He paled.

“They’ll clear the mortgage. Pay off the bank. Even… buy the land back from the state,” he murmured. “Aliyah, you don’t understand what this means.”

Aliyah’s lips trembled. “You’re selling me.”

Her mother finally found her voice. “It’s not like that—”

“It’s exactly like that,” Aliyah snapped, tears burning behind her eyes.

Kingsley didn’t flinch. “Miss Haven, your family’s survival hinges on your cooperation.”

David handed her the quill. “Please, Aliyah. Just sign it. You’ll be taken care of. He’s a powerful man.”

Aliyah stared at the pen like it might cut her. Her eyes met her father’s—so full of desperation—and then her mother’s, full of guilt.

With shaking fingers, she signed.

The sound of the pen zip-zapped across the paper. She had only signed school related documents until now.

Now, it was time for her to begin preparations as a bride. Time suddenly seemed faster than normal.

She knew her parents were heavily indebted, with threats of losing whatever they had left. She had also heard of a powerful man who had sent word to her community that he was seeking a bride for a favour in exchange for handsome compensations.

"I didn’t know that my parents would enrol their 17-year-old in this in order to pay off their debts and reclaim their assets," she said with an innocent, shaky voice.

"I didn’t even know he'll pick you," David said as he watched Aliyah’s tears escape from her eyes.

"Hurry up," Kingsley cut through. "The wedding is tomorrow morning. Put your things together because after the occasion, you'll be moving out of your parents house as Señor Perez’s wife."

Aliyah nodded, then swallowed. "Yes, Sir."

By this time tomorrow, she was going to be a wife.

WIFE! It sounded like the slashing of a knife through her heart and her dreams.

With that Kingsley exited their small abode.

All through the night, Aliyah heard voices in her head. She tried to fight them to no avail.

"You'll be wife of a powerful man; you should be happy," one voice whispered.

"You're young, full of dreams, and a lot of years ahead; being a wife at 17 will alter your dreams," another whispered.

"What if he used his money to help you fulfil those dreams," the first voice retorted.

As Aliyah placed her hands on her ears to block the whispering noises, she saw a shadow walk past her and then pause to say, "Sleep, Aliyah. Tomorrow is your wedding day. You can't fight it. You can only hope it would work in your favour."

Hope! The word hung in the air and she stuck to it. It was the sedative that finally put her to sleep.

***

"I'm s-scared," Aliyah cried to herself as Kingsley flung open chapel doors.

The chapel was silent, cold as a tomb. St. Luke’s was old and gray, its stones crumbling, lit only by a few flickering candles. At the altar, Pedro Perez stood like a ghost—still, sharp-featured, dressed in a black suit tailored to ruthless perfection.

Aliyah stood in white, trembling under the weight of a dress she hadn’t chosen.

Pedro didn’t speak until she approached.

“Miss Haven,” he greeted, as though they were business partners.

“Señor Perez,” she replied quietly.

The officiant read quickly, dispassionately. There were no flowers. No music. No joy.

Pedro didn’t look at her once as he signed the marriage contract. When it was Aliyah’s turn, she hesitated only a moment, then scrawled her name beneath his.

“You understand your role,” he said to her after the service, voice low and cold. “There is no affection between us. Your purpose is singular.”

Aliyah’s fingers curled into the pleat of her dress. “Yes.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing before the altar, a bride in name only.

Now, she was left alone with Kingsley. 

"To the car," he nudged her with his head and a held out hand.

The officiant waited on them to fully exit the cathedral before turning away.

The door made a sound as they shut it close. To Aliyah, the sound was like the closing of a chapter and the opening of another - one so unpredictable.

"It will turn out in my favour," she assured herself as the drive began from her locality to the more advanced environments of San Francisco.

***

The Perez's Manor rose like a stone behemoth out of the hills, shadowed and silent as Aliyah stepped through its towering doors. Marble floors reflected chandeliers dripping in crystal. A maid named Elena met her, guiding her through corridors with somber expressions and hushed instructions.

At the entrance to her suite, Elena paused. “If you need anything, ring the bell. You’ll be… visited tonight.”

Aliyah turned sharply. “Visited?”

Elena hesitated. “He will come. It’s part of the contract. Please, try not to anger him.”

Aliyah entered the room alone. It was lavish, beautiful—everything her home wasn’t. But she felt no awe. Only dread. The dress clung to her skin like a shroud. Her hands moved unconsciously to her belly, even though nothing was there yet. Not yet.

Hours passed. She sat on the edge of the bed, stiff and cold, listening to every creak in the hall, every distant echo of footfalls.

Then came a knock.

She didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway.

Pedro stood there, still in his black suit, though his tie was gone. His eyes met hers for a long moment, and then he entered, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“You understand why I’m here,” he said.

Aliyah rose to her feet slowly. “Yes.”

He moved toward her. His movements were smooth, deliberate. There was no passion in his gaze, no curiosity, not even cruelty. Only purpose.

“I will not hurt you,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “But this must happen. Tonight.”

Her breath shook as she stepped backward, her back hitting the cold bedpost. “Can’t you even… talk to me? Ask if I’m—”

“No,” he said. “Consent was signed. You agreed.”

Her eyes blurred with tears. “I didn’t agree. I was bought.”

Pedro’s expression didn’t change. He undid the buttons on his coat, laying it across a chair. “This is not personal.”

To him, it wasn’t. But to Aliyah, it was the most personal thing that had ever happened.

When he reached for her, she went still. She didn’t scream. She didn’t fight. Her body froze, but inside she broke into a thousand pieces.

***

Afterward, he rose, dressed, and left without a word.

Aliyah lay curled beneath the covers, numb. Her body ached, but the real wound was deeper. Somewhere inside, a part of her was gone—something stolen she could never reclaim.

She turned her head to the side and let the tears come—quiet, endless. Her hand slipped to her belly, palm flat.

If there was life inside her now, it had been born of silence. Of cold. Of a bargain struck in desperation.

And yet, she clung to it.

“I’ll protect you,” she whispered to the emptiness. “Even if it kills me. Even if they all burn.”

The tears slowed. The numbness faded into something else. Something hard. Something sharp.

In that quiet room, under silk sheets that smelled of strangers, Aliyah Haven made a vow. She would survive. She would find her child. And when the time came… she would make them all pay.