MY GIRL, GIVE ME A SECOND CHANCE.

Ella lay shivering on the cold veranda, her head resting on a faded Ghana Must Go bag stuffed with nothing but worn-out dresses. Tears streaked down her swollen cheeks. She had cried all night, and when the rooster crowed, her eyes were red, hollow, and lifeless.

Today was her wedding day.

But not the fairytale kind little girls dream about.

She was being forced to marry a crippled, disfigured man, a stranger who claimed he had been burned at the age of three.

Ella’s chest tightened. She had once dreamed of running away from the Madison family, but how could she? She was an orphan with no name, no past, no one to call her own. All she knew was this: for as long as she could remember, she had been nothing more than a maid in this house of cruelty.

"Debt," they called it.

Her parents’ debt had become her prison.

And today, that prison was sealing its doors forever.

Just as she sank deeper into her thoughts, a sudden splash of freezing water drenched her. She gasped, her body trembling. In the doorway stood Maya, the spoiled daughter of the house, with a cruel smirk curving her lips.

But Maya wasn’t finished.

Minutes later, she stormed into her bedroom, plugged in her electric iron, and watched the red light glow hotter and hotter. Her lips twisted as she whispered to herself:

"It’s not a bad idea to give my dear sister a farewell mark… That way, she’ll never forget me."

The iron hissed.

Maya’s eyes glittered.

And she charged down the stairs like a predator closing in on its prey.

Ella had just turned toward the garden when a blinding pain ripped through her back. A scream tore from her throat. The scorching iron was pressed against her skin, burning, peeling, and branding her alive.

But Ella wasn’t as weak as they thought.

With teeth clenched, she pushed herself up with every ounce of strength, sending Maya crashing to the ground. A sharp cry echoed through the house.

Mr. and Mrs. Madison came rushing out barefoot, eyes wide.

And Maya… smiled.

Shoving the hot iron into Ella’s trembling hands, she wailed, “Mom! Dad! I tried to talk to her about her wedding, and she tried to burn my face with this!”

"What?!" Mrs. Madison’s fury lit up like wildfire.

Before Ella could speak, a stinging slap cracked across her cheek. Mr. Madison’s hand.

Another blow landed from the other side. Mrs. Madison’s hand.

Ella collapsed, her burned back slamming against the floor.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Mr. Madison growled.

Ella’s lips trembled. Her voice was a whisper, almost drowned by her sobs. “I… I’m sorry.”

But Maya folded her arms, sneering. “Speak louder, slave. What did you say?”

Ella’s chest heaved as she forced the words out louder, broken: “I’m sorry, Young Mistress.”

Mrs. Madison curled her nose. “Pathetic. Go freshen up. We’re already late for your marriage at the City Council.”

Marriage.

The word stabbed deeper than the burns on her back.

Her heart sank, but she obeyed, dragging herself into the small bathroom in the gatekeeper’s quarters. She stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, tears dripping down her chin.

"Ella, stop crying. No amount of tears can save you now."

Yet the tears kept falling.

When she stepped outside again, patched gown clinging to her skin and battered shoes on her feet, she reached for the car door. The three Madison cars suddenly sped off, leaving her standing in the dust.

Her body swayed. Her knees nearly buckled. But somehow, she stayed upright.

Then, a soft voice made her freeze.

"Ella?"

She turned, and there stood Nanny Ruth, Maya’s nanny since birth. The woman’s eyes filled with pity as they travelled from Ella’s swollen face to her poorly stitched dress.

Ella forced a smile. “Good morning, ma’am.”

But Ruth didn’t smile back. She only sighed. “Come with me.”

Ella shook her head quickly. “I can’t, ma’am. If they return and find me missing, you know what they’ll do to me.”

Ruth’s eyes hardened. “And you plan to stand before your husband and his family looking like… this? Do you want them to laugh at you?”

The words hit harder than any slap. Ella fell to her knees, sobbing. “Ma’am… this is my best outfit. Where else can a dead man fall from his grave?”

For a moment, Ruth said nothing. Then, she pulled a crumpled bill from her pocket and tossed it at her.

"Take it. Buy a cap. At least give yourself a shred of dignity."

Ella snatched the money like it might vanish in the wind. And before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Ruth in a desperate hug.

"Please… can I hug you? Just once?"

But Ruth froze. Her hands didn’t move. Her face darkened.

And Ella felt it.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.