chapter three

Aunt Becky starts to caress my hand, and I can’t hold back anymore. “What is it, Auntie?”

“Can’t I just hold my husband’s niece’s hand?” No! You can’t! I thought to myself. “Yes, you can,” I replied. feeling uneasy with the emotion she expresses towards me right now.

After a while, she starts to speak. “You know your uncle has been going through a lot for a long time now. He took care of you since you were five,” I looked at her like," Are you going to the extent of emotional blackmail now? " but kept quiet still.

She acted as if she didn’t notice the look I was giving her and instead went on to say, “Business has been slowing for over two years now, and he needs the support from Mr. Walker, or else the business will go bankrupt.” That’s when she finally looked at me.

“So, what are you saying, Auntie?” Let her just come straight to the point.

“Get married to Mr. Walker,” she said plainly. As I was trying to stand up from the bed I was sitting on, she added, “He promised to give us a good deal on one condition—that he marries our daughter.” I looked at her in disbelief.

“But I’m not even your biological daughter!” I replied. I stood up and looked at her. “Yes, you guys raised me, but I’m not your biological daughter!”

Uncle barged in, looking furious. “I’ve asked Mr. Walker, and he has agreed to marry her,” my uncle said. I wonder what’s wrong with this Walker guy. Why is he so desperate to get married? Does he have some kind of illness, and no one wants to marry him because of it? Is that why he’s resorted to marrying a girl by force? And over a deal, for that matter? I hope not.

“You are going to marry him whether you like it or not!” Martin yelled at me. We kept eye contact for only God knows how long.

“You are lucky to even have yourself marry a man with such high standards. Consider yourself lucky… you should be thanking us for giving you this opportunity!!” He yelled. I shrieked from how loud he was and how scared I was.

He then walked out, leaving me frozen in place. Auntie walked into my view. “I give you five minutes to get yourself together,” she said. I stared at her.

She grabbed my jaw tightly and continued in a low, threatening voice, “When I come back with the makeup artists, I don’t want to hear any protest coming from you. Make sure you behave, do you understand?” I nodded. She shoved my head back so hard that I lost balance and fell back onto the bed.

Immediately after she exited the room, I burst into tears. Who have I wronged? Why is this happening to me?

I was still sitting on the bed, lost in thought. What will become of me? Am I getting married to an old man? Is he even going to treat me, right? At least, will he treat me with respect? Right? These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, revealing Auntie with two other women.

I started to back away a little when she spoke up, “You either choose the easy way or the hard way.” She faked a smile.

She walked closer to me and lowered her voice, so it was just me who could hear her. “You can just sit, and these two lovely ladies will make you look good and ready for your wedding, or I’ll let my husband, who has two guards outside, by the way, force you to comply.” She stood up straight, then asked, “We wouldn’t want the bride to go through stress now, would we?” I looked at her with teary eyes and quietly went and sat on a stool.

The ladies immediately got to work. I just zoned out, thinking of what my life would be like now. What would it have been like if my parents were still alive? A tear fell, and I came back to reality. I apologized to the makeup artist and wiped it off.

After an hour or so, I was getting dressed in Eva’s wedding gown. I do look beautiful, but I’m unhappy. I look in the mirror and see a sad-looking set of brown eyes. This pair of eyes holds so much agony and pain.

The sound of a clap from Auntie brought me out of my daze. “Okay! We’re good to go now!” She grabbed my arm and took me out of the room to go meet my uncle by the entrance, where the bride is supposed to walk down the aisle.

As we got closer, I could see the relief on my uncle’s face when he saw us. At least I’ll be helping them. Maybe this will make them not hate me more than they already do, I thought to myself.

“You look beautiful, Anastasia,” Uncle said, looking at me. That made me feel a little bit relieved. The way he looks at me, I could see sympathy. It's hardly possible, knowing the way my uncle has been toward me and how he has treated me.

The gown shows a decent amount of cleavage, and the sleeves are long and made with white lace. A thin-laced veil covered my face.

I hooked my arm with my uncle’s as he led me toward the aisle. As we walked, it started to dawn on me that this was not a joke, nor is it a prank. My life will not be the same after this. I started to freak out, but Uncle Martin held my hand tightly, surprisingly giving a little support.

Thankfully, the heels were not too high, or else I would have fallen.

As we walked down the aisle, I noticed there were only a handful of people present. Maybe they got tired of waiting and left, or maybe they never invited many people.

I tried to distract myself, trying not to fall or faint, but thinking of these things—it’s not even my wedding in the first place! So why would I care if certain people aren’t invited?

I nearly forgot where I am until Uncle Martin stops walking. My heart lurches.

He clears his throat.

“Here she is, Mr. Walker. Please… take care of her.”

I brace myself.

I look up.

And I meet his eyes.

He isn’t old.

He isn’t sick.

He’s… breathtaking.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and eyes that hold stories I can’t read.... yet.

He is looking right at me like I am an unexpected twist in his own fate.

My breath catches.

This… is Mr. Walker?