Chapter 3 3

"So it's you." The man says, his eyes trailing over my body in a scrutinizing manner.

"Who are you and what are you talking about?" I asked. It was a tall man, about 6"2 with dark hair. He had broad shoulders and an evidently toned body. His voice as he said so it's you, sounded deep and commanding, like the type spillers used. Why had he walked in here so confidently. He didn't belong here, this was my fathers hospital room.

"I'd have thought if they were placing a pawn she'd be more intimidating, atleast, not so frail and fragile looking." Giving me another once over the strange man says. "Or maybe that's part of the plan. I'm more likely to underestimate an innocent looking one than someone who looks like she knows what she is doing."

"Leave before I call security. You're not supposed to be here." I say getting scared. Who is this and what does he want? I'm not sure I could protect myself and my unconscious dad if a throwdown occurred right now.

"You can drop the act now. I know you know who I am." The man says in a dangerous tone, stepping up to me. I can feel my heartbeat quicken as I get a wisp of his scent.

"I I don't know who you are." I stutter. "I'm calling security." I say grabbing the remote on the bed to call for a nurse or anyone.

The man chuckles. "Security. This would be interesting. For your sake, I hope you know what you're doing." With that he turns around and walks out.

Leaving me standing with the remote I actually hadn't clicked yet in my hand. Something about that man is so familiar but I can't place my finger on it.

•••

The pen trembled in my hand. The marriage contract sat before me like an execution order, the words blurring as my vision swam. Across the room, Livia lounged in one of the Vanderbilt estate's antique chairs, her sharp features coldly illuminated by the sterile overhead light. She didn't look like someone who'd just orchestrated her niece's life sentence. No, she looked victorious. Triumphant. Like she'd won some invisible war I never knew we were fighting.

"Eliana," she said, her voice slicing through the silence. "We don't have all day. Your father's hospital bills are waiting, and the clock is ticking. Every second you waste..." She let the words hang, her painted nails tapping against the armrest, deliberate and sharp.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "You make it sound like I have a choice."

"You do," she said smoothly, her lips curving into a cruel smile. "The choice to do what's best for your family-or let them drown while you cling to your precious pride. Your father's life depends on this. Surely you're not so selfish as to let him die?"

The words punched me in the gut, but I kept my expression neutral. No tears. No trembling voice. If she wanted me to break, she'd have to try harder.

"I hope you're enjoying this," I said, my voice low, barely concealing the venom.

Her smile widened. "Oh, darling, I don't *enjoy* it. I simply do what's necessary. You'd understand that if you weren't so naïve."

I looked down at the contract again, my fingers gripping the pen tightly enough to leave indentations. Levi Vanderbilt. The name stared back at me, bold and unrelenting, like the man it supposedly belonged to. Dead or alive, he was nothing more than a phantom to me-a shadow I was being forced to bind myself to for reasons I couldn't even comprehend.

"Why him?" I asked, my voice quieter now, more fragile than I intended.

"Why not him?" Livia countered, standing and crossing the room with predatory grace. "The Vanderbilt name still holds power, even if its heir is... indisposed. His 'death' was a tragedy, of course, but his legacy? Untouchable. And now, it's yours-for a price."

I stared at her, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. "You mean *your* price."

She leaned in, her perfume cloying and suffocating, and whispered, "My price is your salvation, Eliana. Don't forget that."

I signed.

The pen scrawled my name with a finality that felt like a knife slicing through my own chest. Livia snatched the contract the moment the ink dried, her smile a grotesque mimicry of warmth.

"Good girl," she said, folding the papers neatly. "Now, we can begin."

Begin what? I wanted to ask, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I stood numbly as she guided me toward the waiting car. The Vanderbilt estate loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette shrouded in mist like something out of a nightmare.

Present day

"They are ready for you."

I take a breath steeling myself, as I walk out. The widowed bride.

The ceremony was cold. Lifeless.

My palms were sweaty as I walked down the aisle, everyt step heavy like I could feel the weight of the invisible shackles on my feet. I tried not to cry or look at anyone. It was a small wedding. Aunt Livia, and three people from the grooms side.

I could see what Aunt Livia was gaining from this. But the groom, who were this people? Did they hate Levi this much to do this to him even in death? Maybe he was just like me I thought. Wishfully.

The officiant didn't bother with pleasantries or smiles. He simply recited the words with robotic precision, barely pausing for me to respond. My "I do" came out as a whisper, hollow and detached, but no one seemed to notice.

The ring felt heavy on my finger, a tangible reminder of the chains I'd just shackled myself with.

When it was over, the officiant handed me an envelope marked Confidential. "From Mr. Vanderbilt's private affairs," he said, his tone neutral. He didn't linger, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he'd come.

I stared at the envelope, my pulse quickening. What could Levi possibly have left behind for me? Did he even know I existed before all this?

The estate was a mausoleum.

Every hallway was lined with portraits of stern-faced Vanderbilts, their eyes following me as I wandered aimlessly. The air was heavy, suffused with the scent of old wood and decay. Livia had disappeared somewhere into the house, leaving me alone in the sprawling emptiness.

Eventually, I found myself in Levi's office. It was exactly what I'd expected: dark mahogany furniture, shelves filled with leather-bound books, and a massive desk that seemed to dominate the room. The envelope felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as I set it down, my hands trembling slightly.

I didn't open it. Not yet. Instead, I sank into the chair behind the desk, trying to steady my breathing. The silence was deafening, pressing down on me like a physical weight.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Above me.

My heart stopped.

I looked up, my eyes darting to the ceiling. The sound was faint but unmistakable-slow, deliberate steps, moving across the floor above.

No one else was supposed to be here.

"Livia?" I called out, my voice shaking.

No response.

The footsteps stopped, and for a moment, the silence was even worse. I felt a chill run down my spine, my pulse pounding in my ears.

And then, as if on cue, a single creak echoed through the room-a sound so faint I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it.

Almost. I stood frozen, my eyes locked on the ceiling, the envelope still unopened on the desk before me. My breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as the oppressive silence enveloped me once again.

"Who's there?" I whispered, though I wasn't sure I wanted an answer.

I picture aunt Livia's gleeful face telling me the Vanderbilt family had secrets. Was I about to be introduced to it so soon? I thought about all the cult movies I watched of brides having to fight till the death at the rich families or escape demons. Could this be it? The reason for this marriage.