The Price In White

Claribel’s POV

The cab smelled of old chips and air freshener, but for the first time in a week, I could breathe.

I leaned my head on Mum’s shoulder, and she smoothed my hair the way she used to when I had a fever as a kid.

In the front seat, Sophia was explaining to the driver which roundabout to avoid and why it had personally wronged her.

“Thanks for not letting me rot in there,” I said quietly.

Mum’s hand stilled on my hair. “You never have to thank me for anything, baby.”

Her voice was thick. I put it down to how worried she’d been, and I held her arm tighter.

Sophia's flat came up first. She squeezed my hand before she got out. "Call me the second you get there."

"I will."

Forty minutes later, the cab turned onto a quiet street and stopped behind a huge old building with stained-glass windows.

"Is this a church?"

"We're only going inside for a minute." Mum's voice was too bright.

She took my hand and led me through a narrow back door, down a short hallway, and into a small room. Then she locked the door behind us.

I frowned at the lock, turned and looked around the room. A small wooden door sat at the far end, half hidden behind a rail of clothes then I saw the dress.

It hung on the wall, white and long, with lace across the top. A veil spilled to the floor beside it, white heels, and a table of jewellery.

"Is somebody getting married?"

Mum's eyes filled up with tears immediately. I hadn't seen her cry like that since the anniversary of Dad's death.

"Mum?"

"It's you, baby."

I laughed and it came out cracked. "Funny."

She didn't laugh with me.

A knock came on the door. She wiped her face fast and opened it.

A man in a delivery uniform stepped in, holding a bouquet of white roses. "For Dr. Evans."

A small card was tucked between the flowers and I pulled it out.

“See you in white. E.L.”

"Who's E.L.?"

Mum's phone lit up in her hand. She tried to turn it away, but I caught the headline first. “LLEWELLYN SET TO MARRY DR. CLARIBEL EVANS.”

"Llewellyn," I whispered. "Mum. Who am I marrying?"

"His son."

The roses hit the floor, white petals scattered across the tiles.

"Emrys?" My voice rose. "You brought me here to marry Emrys Llewellyn?"

"Clar, please, let me explain..."

"You said somewhere safe!"

She pulled a folded piece of paper from her bag. "I signed this on Wednesday."

I snatched it from her hand. My eyes ran over the words until they found my mother's name at the bottom.

"What is this?"

"An agreement." Her voice cracked. "Edward came to the house. He said no hospital in Wales would hire you after this. He said he would tell the press it was all your plan, that you'd trapped his son for money.”

“Unless you married Emrys. The Llewellyn name would protect you."

"And you signed it."

"I was scared." She wiped her cheeks with her wrist. "I thought I was saving you."

"You don't get to sign! I'm twenty-eight!"

"I know that." She sobbed. "He said the paper doesn't matter. It's only so you'd agree to this. You have to sign your own."

I stepped back. "I'm not doing this."

"Claribel..."

"No." I grabbed my bag. "I would rather sleep in my car than marry him."

There was another knock. Mum jumped. "That's the makeup artist. Let me tell her to wait."

Mum crossed the room and unlocked the main door to whisper something to the woman outside. Her back was to me.

I didn’t think. I ran for the small door at the far end, twisted the handle and slipped through.

It opened onto a dusty storage room, stacked with folding chairs and boxes of candles. On the other side, a second door sat under a green exit sign.

“Claribel?” Mum called out behind me. “Claribel!”

Her footsteps pounded after me. I grabbed the exit handle, it was locked. I threw my shoulder at it, once, twice, and on the third hit the old wood gave in and I stumbled out into the light and so did the noise.

A wall of reporters rushed towards me, cameras raised, microphones out. They had been waiting for the bride.

"That's her!"

"Dr. Evans! Are you here to marry Emrys Llewellyn?"

"Are you running?"

Flashes went off like gunfire. I froze for one horrible second with my mouth open, my face on a hundred lenses.

I threw myself back inside and slammed the door, leaning my whole body against it.

"Leaving so soon, Dr. Evans?"

I spun around. A man stood at the end of the corridor in a navy suit, hands folded in front of him. Silver hair, tired kind eyes. Mum was beside him, crying.

Edward Llewellyn…

"You." I pointed a shaking finger at him. "You did this."

"Please." He gestured down the hall as if he were inviting me to tea. "Let's talk. Back inside, away from the door."

Back in the dressing room, Mum sank onto a chair with her hand over her mouth. Edward closed the door gently.

"You've seen the reporters," he said. "By tonight, the whole country will have seen the pictures of you running from a Llewellyn wedding. The story will be that you tried to trap my son and ran when you didn't get paid."

"That's not what happened."

"It doesn't matter what happened." He said gently. "Llewellyn name can fix it. Nothing else will.”

"So I marry your son and everything is magically fixed?"

"The story changes. The scandal becomes a love story, and the cameras move on."

"Why do you care?" I narrowed my eyes. "Days ago, you didn't know I existed."

"I'm protecting my son's name." Something flickered across his face, so fast I almost missed it. "You happen to be part of the repair."

It was a strange way to say it but wave it off, because my head was too full to chew on it.

He took a thin folder from his jacket and placed it on my knee. "Your mother's signature means nothing, Claribel. Yours does."

I opened it and the words swam before me. ‘Marriage to Emrys Llewellyn. A shared home. Public appearances as husband and wife.”

At the bottom of the last page, there was a signature already waiting.

Emrys Llewellyn…

My stomach dropped. He'd already agreed and he'd let me find out at the altar after days of silence.

"And if I say no?"

"Then you say no." Edward spread his hands. "I won't stop you. I'll only tell you that outside that door are a hundred cameras, and every one of them has already decided who you are."

I wanted my career back. I wanted my name. And the only person offering either was the same man who had broken everything.

Edward said nothing. He just waited, patient as a clock, and held out a pen.

I took it.

My hand shook so much that my signature looked like someone else's. When I handed the folder back, Edward smiled.

"Wonderful," he said, and left the room.

The makeup artist came in a minute later, silent. She tilted my chin and dabbed concealer under my ear, over the last yellow-green stain of the mark that had added to this whole mess.

Mum zipped the dress. She had already changed into a soft blue dress with a pearl brooch, the kind a bride’s mother wears, and her fingers trembled against my back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I didn’t answer.

I looked at the woman in the mirror. White lace, a veil. She looked like a bride, and that was the worst part.

“I'm not doing this for you."

I didn't know whether it was true.

My legs felt like jelly when I stood up. Someone had picked the bouquet up off the floor and pressed it back into my hands.

A man in a black suit held open the same back door we had come in through. Outside, a white limousine waited at the curb with its engine humming.

I stopped. “You’re joking.”

“Please, baby.” Mum touched my elbow. “Get in.”

I got in. She slid in beside me, and the door shut with a soft and expensive click.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

I stared at my hands and said nothing.

The limousine rolled around the side of the building. Through the tinted window, I watched the crowd of reporters grow, cameras lifted like a field of black flowers then the car stopped at the foot of the cathedral steps.

The driver opened my door and the flashes exploded. I stepped out.

At the top of the steps, the heavy doors swung open. And the music began. A long aisle stretched ahead, white flowers on every pew, and the entire congregation turned at once to stare at me.

At the end of it, under the altar lights, Emrys Llewellyn stood in a white tuxedo with a small smirk on his face.