New Bride

"Have you gone to see Mr. Calvin yet?" my father asked, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth with a fork.

"Yes, Dad," I replied, my hands clasped tightly behind my back as I stood, watching him eat.

He simply nodded, picked up the glass of wine from the table, and took a slow gulp before turning his sharp gaze on me. "And? Give me the details. I want to know everything."

I opened my mouth to speak, but my mother’s voice interrupted from behind me.

"Your daughter has been through a terrible heartbreak," she said, her tone cutting, "and a painful divorce, if I may remind you. But all you seem to care about is every detail of a particular crippled billionaire, not the details of your own daughter. Your only child."

Hearing her defend me brought a flicker of comfort to my heart, but I knew better than to show my emotions in front of my father.

He set his fork down with deliberate calmness and pointed it at my mother. "It’s your job as her mother to care about her feelings. It’s my job as the head of this family to care about its future."

I stiffened, already anticipating what was coming next. I had seen this argument play out countless times, and the outcome was always the same.

My father’s sharp words would sting like a whip, and my mother would retreat into silence, defeated and in tears.

Before the confrontation could escalate, I spoke up. My voice was steady, though my heart pounded in my chest.

"I’ve signed the marriage contract."

The room fell silent.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and my mother turned to me with a startled expression. "How?" she asked. "I thought you said you didn’t meet him."

I faced her and said, "He sent it to my email yesterday, I signed it this morning." Then I turned back to my father, meeting his gaze as I finished.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if he had just won a game. Slowly, he reached for his wine, savoring the moment as he took another sip, staring at the glass as though the wine suddenly became sweeter.

"You’ve made me proud, daughter," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now the legacy of this family can be preserved."

My mother’s hand reached for mine, and the warmth of her touch nearly broke my composure. I felt tears sting my eyes, but I held them back, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Her voice trembled with anger. "How can you talk about legacy when she’s clearly hurting? She’s your daughter, not some bargaining chip!"

My father’s expression darkened, his smile fading as he turned his cold gaze toward her. "Careful," he warned. "Don’t forget who keeps this family afloat."

Before he could say more, I cut in, my voice louder and firmer this time. "Enough! I’ve already signed it. It’s done. There’s nothing left to argue about."

The tension in the room thickened, but no one said another word. My father returned to his meal, smugly satisfied. My mother’s eyes searched mine, pleading silently, but I couldn’t meet her gaze.

I turned and walked out of the room, my mother calling softly after me. As I climbed the stairs, the tears I had been holding back finally escaped.

By the time I reached my room, my shoulders were shaking. I wasn’t sure if I was crying out of anger, heartbreak, or the crushing realization that I had just signed my life away.

My mother opened the door and stepped inside just as the sound of blaring car horns shattered the serene environment.

I quickly wiped my tears, glancing up at her with a puzzled look. "What’s going on?" I asked.

She seemed just as bewildered, frowning slightly. "I don’t know. Come with me," she said. "Let’s find out."

I followed her downstairs, where we found my father already heading toward the front door, his curiosity clearly piqued.

"Is this your doing?" my mother asked, her tone sharp with suspicion, as though she couldn’t fathom my father throwing a celebration minutes after I announced I signed the marriage contract.

He turned to her with a smug smile. "Not me. Our new in-law, I suppose."

My heart sank, an uneasy feeling creeping in as we all made our way outside to the gate.

The sight that greeted us stopped me in my tracks. Several sleek black Range Rovers were parked in a perfect line along the driveway, their headlights illuminating the evening. As soon as we stepped out, the honking ceased.

One by one, men in sharp suits exited the vehicles, their movements coordinated and precise. Their presence radiated power, authority, and an undeniable sense of wealth.

One of them approached us, bowing respectfully. "Apologies for the disturbance, Mr. Jackson," he said, his voice calm and professional. "We are here to escort the new bride to the mansion. Mr. Calvin would like to see her now, and he sends his apologies for the inconvenience."

I froze, feeling the weight of every gaze on me. My father’s grin widened, while my mother reached out, placing a comforting hand on my arm.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I tried to process the sheer magnitude of what was happening.

This was no ordinary arrangement—this was a spectacle, a display of power from the man I had just agreed to marry. And it was only the beginning.

"She's all yours," my father said, gesturing grandly with his hands, like a car dealer happily parting with his most prized vehicle. His tone held no hesitation, no second thoughts—just triumph.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as the weight of the moment pressed down on me. Hesitating, I felt frozen, speechless, caught between the reality of my choices.

The tears I had cried just moments ago seemed distant now, replaced by a strange emptiness.

"Don't keep them waiting, will you?" my father said sharply, cutting through my daze with an air of authority that left no room for argument.

I flinched slightly at his words, but before I could gather myself, my mother's soft voice filled the gap. "Be strong, love," she whispered in my ear, her touch gentle as her hand brushed my arm. "You'll be fine."

I nodded faintly, though I wasn't sure I believed her. My feet felt like lead as I began to move, step by reluctant step, toward one of the sleek black vehicles. The suited men opened the door with swift precision, their expressionless faces offering no comfort.

As I reached the car, I glanced back briefly, catching my mother’s worried eyes and my father’s proud smirk. And then I stepped inside, the door closing behind me.