The Contract

EVERETT

When work was finally over, I packed my bag and exited the building, exhausted after another long day with a CFO who requested tea every two hours. My feet hurt from wearing these heels, and I was beginning to think I might have blisters. Sebastian Kessler was a nightmare to work for, but I couldn't afford to complain. I needed this job, and losing it would mean losing the little stability I had managed to build for myself.

When I arrived home, the atmosphere felt tense. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands covering his face. He didn't look drunk today, which surprised me. For the first time in a long time, I had a sober father waiting at home, but something about his silence made me uneasy. I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened.

"Afternoon, Father," I greeted him, dropping my bag onto the sofa before walking over to take a seat beside him. I removed my aching heels and looked at him expectantly, remembering that he had said he wanted to talk to me. However, he didn't raise his head to acknowledge me. He simply sat there, lost in his thoughts.

"Father?" I touched his hands, trying to get his attention, but he trembled beneath my fingers.

"Oh, kiddo. I didn't notice you came back," he murmured.

Before I could respond, he sighed heavily and looked at me with tired eyes.

"I messed up, kiddo."

I should have known this was too good to be true. My father was rarely sober unless something had gone terribly wrong. I immediately suspected he wanted me to pay another one of his gambling debts. The man sitting before me was no longer the father I remembered, the one who bought me ice cream whenever I was sad or comforted me when I came home with a broken hand from cheerleading. Sometimes, I wondered whether that man was still somewhere inside him or whether he had disappeared completely.

"What did you do this time, Dad?" I asked, keeping my tone sharp.

"I gambled the money you gave me and lost it. I didn't want to disappoint you, kid, so I borrowed some money from the casino I was playing at. It was all fun and games until the money kept growing and growing." He inhaled deeply before continuing. "The owner of the casino is angry now, kid. Really angry. He wants his money back, and I don't have it."

Dad stopped talking and stood up to fill a glass with water. He gulped it down before returning to his seat, running his hands through his blond hair.

"I signed a contract with him. You know? I didn't read it until yesterday, when he shoved it in my face."

My stomach tightened. "What did it say?"

My voice came out hoarse and shaky. Part of me wanted to know the truth, but the other part screamed at me to avoid it because the truth would only bring pain.

Dad handed me the contract. I hadn't even noticed it sitting on the table until then. With sweaty palms and trembling fingers, I opened it and began reading the words. My eyes moved across the page until they reached the clause that would change my life forever.

"If I fail to pay my debt by the end of the third month, as written in Section 3.1, the creditor can take anything in my house that covers the full debt. If the creditor does not find anything of sufficient value in my house, he can marry my daughter to pay up the debt."

I dropped the papers.

My hands began shaking uncontrollably, and tears gathered in my eyes, but I fought them back. This couldn't be true. He had to be joking. Perhaps it was April Fools' Day, and I had somehow forgotten. But when I looked at his face, there was no hint of a joke.

My insides screamed for comfort, but there was none to be found. My own father had put me up as payment for money because he couldn't control his gambling addiction.

"Why?" That was the only word my mouth could manage.

"I'm so..."

"Shut it, Father!" My voice cracked as the anger I'd been holding inside finally erupted. "I am sick and tired of your gambling addiction. I am so tired of working my arse off to feed you, to feed us, only for you to throw everything away. Why do you keep snuffing out the light I'm constantly trying to bring into my life?"

I wiped away my tears, but more slipped down my cheeks.

"Why can't you be happy for just one moment and stop drinking? When are you going to grow up, Father, and act your age?"

I slammed my fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room. I couldn't believe he had put me up as payment for his debt. He claimed he hadn't wanted to disappoint me, but I knew better than to believe his excuses. He was simply trying to make me feel sorry for him so I would forgive him again.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I really didn't know." He rubbed his face with both hands before looking at me. "But look at the bright side of all this. You will be marrying a rich man, huh? Wealth, kiddo. We can finally get out of this dump your mother kept us in for years."

I slowly turned towards him, unable to believe what I was hearing. He smiled at his own words, looking proud of himself as though he had done something wonderful for our family. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"Are you serious right now, Father?" I stood and walked towards him, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. "No. You're joking, of course. The contract says he can come and collect what we have here at home, so they can take it all. I have a stable job right now. We can buy new furniture." I looked at him desperately. "Right?"

"The decision has been made, kiddo. He doesn't want any of our dusty, beat-up furniture. You are getting married to him, and that's that."

He walked away, leaving me standing there with a contract that had just turned my entire life upside down.

I stared after him, wondering what had happened to the man I once called my hero. How could he discuss my future as though he were talking about buying a new sofa? I wasn't a piece of furniture. I wasn't something he could hand over to settle a debt.

I slowly sat on one of the stools and ran my hands through my hair. My yellow blouse stuck to my back, suddenly feeling much heavier than it had that morning. I wanted to scream, throw something, or do anything that would make the panic inside me disappear, but I forced myself to remain still.

My father had signed the contract, but I hadn't. I didn't know whether that mattered or whether there was a way out, but I couldn't accept that someone else had decided my future without asking me. Before I let fear take control, I needed to find out who this man was and what kind of person would agree to such an arrangement.

I picked up my heels and headed upstairs. After taking an hour-long shower, I settled into bed and searched the internet for the casino Dad always visited. I tried different searches, hoping to find information about its owner, but all I discovered were details about the games offered there. There was nothing about the man who owned it, nothing about his employees, and nothing that could tell me who I was supposed to marry.

Frustrated, I tossed my phone onto the bed before reaching for it again. Giving up wouldn't help me. There had to be something somewhere.

I tried searching the casino's name alongside words like owner, businessman, and management, but I still found nothing useful. I was about to give up when I stumbled across a photograph of a man standing between two boys. All three wore expensive suits in different colours.

My attention immediately settled on the man wearing a black Armani suit with gold cufflinks. His emerald-green eyes seemed to shine even through the photograph, and his silky black hair was neatly styled. Something about his face felt familiar, but I couldn't immediately place it.

I leaned closer to the screen, studying his features. Then my breathing stopped.

I knew that face. I knew those eyes. I'd seen them almost every day, usually staring at me with enough coldness to make me question every decision I'd ever made.

My fingers tightened around my phone as the truth finally sank in. The man in the photograph was my boss.

The same man who scolded me for arriving late, treated me as though I were incapable of doing anything right, and made it clear that he had no patience for anyone's problems.

And now, somehow, he was the man my father had promised me to.

I stared at his picture, hoping it would somehow change into something less terrifying, but it remained the same. I had spent my days trying to avoid his cold stares and unreasonable demands, never imagining that he could become part of my life outside the office.

Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be him?