Chapter 2

After the announcement of my shotgun marriage in place of Emily. Dinner ended almost immediately, with everyone dispersing to their respective wings.

That was the way things had always been in this cold house, there was no warmth. There was no laughter at dinner tables, no conversations about how the day went. Nothing. I especially didn’t speak much at all. There wasn’t anyone who cared much for what I had to say.

I was left to clear and clean the table and tidy up the kitchen. We had help and maids but these were things I’d learnt to do without being told.

‘It was part of my due diligence,’ I’d constantly told myself.

After all was done, I retreated to my room down at the basement floor. Dropping flat on my bed as I stared at the little neon star stickers at the ceiling of my room. It was the only source of light I had in my poorly lit room that didn’t even have a decent window.

I let out a deep breath and I ponder on my nearing future, my current crisis. My shot gun marriage to Adrian Maserati.

I’d hoped that Emily would by some miracle, return home. She’d come back and take her place.

With the way it looked back at dinner, I keep thinking maybe I was the only one who was left in the dark about Emily fleeing the country to escape her marriage. Maybe this was their plan after-all.

I didn’t want to get married, I was only 23. I wasn’t the favourite child of the family but I was comfortable enough. I wasn’t treated too poorly, I’d long learnt my place and stood firmly on it.

Being adopted at 10 years old was not in my go card at all. I’d long believed and settled my mind that I won’t be getting picked or adopted. I was older than half the kids at the orphanage and most couples preferred younger kids, from month zero to ages three was the perfect choice.

I’d long accepted my fate, I remained quiet even when my world was falling apart.

My only hope was turning 18 and getting out of the system. Finding my own way through life and fulfilling my dream of owning a small coffee shop and bookshop to spend my days. Marriage was never part of my plan. Not then, and definitely not now.

But with the look of things, I didn’t have much of a choice. I had to take my sister’s place. That was the only duty I’d ever been asked out rightly for and thus my final duty to the Stewart family.

They didn’t need to say it outright but it showed, in the way they treated me that they believed I owed them for taking me in.

And so, I’ll suck up my resistance and my aversion for this arrangement and get married like they want.

This was my final duty and my gratitude for the choice they made in picking me from the plenty in that orphanage 13 years ago.

Once I’d taken time to relax and sort out my thought, I got started on packing the little clothes and items I owned. It wasn’t much, I didn’t own much. I was never greedy; I didn’t ask or reach for things beyond what I needed or what was mine to have.

“I guess this is it. The last bag,” I let out a quiet sigh as I zip up the final bag of things I’d be taking along. Essentially, it was my whole life packed in the box.

By tomorrow, I’d be on my way to Adrian’s home, the wedding would be happening there. I wondered what it would be like over there.

Would there be cages that housed criminals, or dens that trapped innocent people that crossed him? Would I even be treated right? If I lived in anyway similar to my life here, it would suffice. I would make do and fill my days.

The thought of what I would find there sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t hope for much, I just hoped to live in peace.

I already kept to myself well, I didn’t speak except being spoken to and I wasn’t keen on starting conversations. I could only hope that Adrian left me alone to my devices.

Heading to my vanity, I pack up the rest of my stuff into the small pouch that laid there. The lip balm, mascara that I rarely used and my small pocket blade.

Maybe it could come in handy when I arrived at the Maserati estate.

I had no idea what I was walking into. But I had no other choice.