Shotgun Wedding

Diana's POV

Matthew Smith's Office, Friday, 11:30 a.m. 

I sat stiffly in the oversized leather chair, my head bowed in shame as Mr. Smith’s piercing eyes bored into me. His fingers drummed against the desk, each tap sending a chill down my spine.

I was only nineteen. A month away from finishing college. And yet here I was, pregnant.

The Smiths were the most powerful family in Los Angeles, capable of making people vanish with a single command. And now I had been summoned into Matthew Smith’s office, with no idea how much he already knew…

What terrified me most wasn’t that he knew I was pregnant. It was that I couldn’t understand how he’d found out.

How did I end up in this situation?

It all started when I found out my mother, my only family, was dying. She needed a kidney transplant. After months of waiting, the hospital had finally found a donor, but the surgery cost $400,000. To most people, that was an investment, comparable to the price of a car, a home, or a business deal. For me, it was an impossible mountain.

I was already working two jobs to keep us afloat: waitressing during the day, scrubbing floors at dawn before lectures, sneaking in hours at the library just to keep up with my classes. My grades mattered. I was determined to graduate. But saving my mother mattered more. 

Every paycheck vanished into medical bills. Every tip, every dollar scraped together, was gone before I could even breathe. I’d already sold everything that could be sold, our furniture, my mother’s jewellery, even my laptop. All that remained was her life, slowly slipping away before my eyes.

The hospital called, their words slicing me open.

"We need to act now. If we don’t do the surgery soon, she may not make it. But if you can’t pay, the kidney will go to another patient."

The desperation in me turned into a quiet, gnawing panic. I begged. Professors, classmates, neighbours, anyone I thought might have enough money. I promised I would work more jobs, repay every cent, but no one wanted to risk it on me. Their polite refusals felt like knives.

That afternoon, when reality finally crushed me, I sat on a bench behind the sports field, sobbing until my throat burned. The world blurred, my tears falling like acid onto my sleeves.

That was when I heard the voice I least wanted to hear.

"Hey, ugly nerd."

Gordon Smith.

My bully. My tormentor. The boy whose family owned half the city, whose arrogance was as big as his bank account. He always seemed to find me when I was weakest.

I kept my head down, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my swollen, tear-stained face.

"I heard you’ve been running around, begging for money," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "For your mom’s surgery, right?"

My hands clenched in my lap. Slowly, I lifted my head. His smirk was in place, cruel as ever.

"I’ll give you half a million dollars," Gordon said smoothly, "if you give me your virginity."

My breath caught. I froze, the world tilting sideways. Of all the insults, all the humiliations I’d endured from him, this was the cruellest. He loathed me, or at least, he enjoyed pretending to. Why would he even want me?

I searched his face for a hint of a joke, some indication that this was just another twisted prank.

But his expression was cool, matter-of-fact.

"I’m serious," he continued when I didn’t respond. He pressed a folded slip of paper into my palm. "Meet me tonight at eight. Room 208. Your body for the money. And try, just try, to look less like a grandma. Lose the dog-ear braids. Wear something sexy."

With that, he dawdled away, leaving me clutching the paper with shaking fingers.

My stomach twisted violently. This had to be a trap, another way for him to humiliate me. But what if it wasn’t? What if he actually meant it?

I stared at the address scrawled on the paper, my thoughts a frantic storm.

Then my phone rang.

"Your mother’s condition is deteriorating," the doctor’s voice said. "We need to do the surgery soon. Do you have the money now?"

My chest tightened until I could barely breathe.

No. I didn’t.

But Gordon did.

"I’ll… figure something out tonight," I whispered, my voice breaking.

My mind circled Gordon's offer.

By evening, desperation had eroded every shred of pride I had left. I wandered into a thrift store, scrolling on my phone for examples of “sexy dresses” because I didn’t even know what counted. After a long, humiliating search, I picked one, a short, body-hugging dress with thin straps. Cheap, but close enough to what I’d seen online.

Back at my apartment, I stared at it in my hands, my chest tight with dread.

This is for Mum.

That thought became my shield, the only thing that kept me moving forward.

When the cab dropped me at the hotel, my heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. The lobby gleamed with wealth, chandeliers, polished marble, and staff in crisp uniforms. I felt out of place in my long skirt and cardigan, like an intruder in a world that would never be mine.

The receptionist eyed me with open disdain.

"I’m here for the guest in Room 208," I said quietly.

"Your name?"

"Diana Wilson."

Her nose wrinkled. She picked up the phone, murmured something too low for me to catch, then gestured lazily.

"Fourth floor. Do you know how to use the elevator?"

Heat flared in my cheeks, but I forced myself to nod and walk away.

Gordon opened the door shirtless, his expression irritated. He yanked me inside like I was something to be hidden.

"Seriously? I told you to wear something sexy. You look like you came from a church choir."

"I… I brought a dress. I’ll change."

"Good. Bathroom’s that way."

Inside the bathroom, my hands trembled as I slipped into the dress. It clung to me awkwardly, exposing more of me than I’d ever shown before. My braids fell loose around my shoulders as I raked nervous fingers through them.

I whispered to my reflection, This is for Mum.

When I stepped out, Gordon’s smirk widened.

"Now we’re talking," he said. "Turns out the ugly duckling has something worth looking at after all."

I stood frozen, my stomach churning. He stripped my glasses from my face and kissed me, his touch rough, claiming. Tears burned my eyes, but I stayed still, enduring. This wasn’t my dream. This wasn’t how my first kiss, my first time, was supposed to be. But my mother’s life was the price.

And so I let him.

When it was over, I lay trembling, my heart hollow. Gordon pulled a card from the drawer and tossed it to me.

"Here. Half a million, like I said. You’re mine now, my little secret. Whenever I call, you come. In exchange, I’ll keep paying you. But if anyone finds out about this, you’ll regret it. Understand?"

I nodded numbly, clutching the card with shaking fingers.

"Good. Now get out."

In the bathroom, I changed back into my modest clothes, braiding my hair again with trembling hands. Silent sobs wracked my chest, but I repeated the words in my mind like a prayer: It’s worth it. Mum will live.

At the hospital that night, I handed over the money. The surgery was scheduled for the morning. I sat outside the operating room until the doctor finally emerged with a tired but relieved smile.

"It was a success," he said.

Relief washed through me so strongly I thought I might collapse. My mother was safe. That was all that mattered.

Or so I thought.

A month later, on my way back home after school, dizziness overtook me. My knees buckled, and I fainted on the roadside. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

And standing beside me was Matthew Smith.

His gaze was sharp, his voice clipped.

"So, you’re pregnant," he said. "Tell me, my son is responsible, isn’t he?"

I froze. Words refused to come.

"Don’t bother lying. I already know," he continued. "I only need your confirmation."

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Which is how I ended up here, in his office, trembling under his gaze.

The door opened, and Gordon walked in. His steps faltered when he saw me.

"Dad? You wanted to see me?"

Matthew’s tone was absolute, leaving no room for argument.

"She’s carrying my grandchild. You two are getting married tomorrow. My decision is final."

The words struck me like a thunderclap. My breath caught, my vision blurred.

Married. To Gordon.

My world tilted, and everything went black.