Chapter 4 Giving in

I awoke to a different kind of silence. No muffled voices, no echo of footsteps-just an eerie calm. My body ached in places I didn't know could feel pain, but as I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't in the torture chamber anymore.

I was in a better room. This room was cleaner, brighter, with a small table and chair near a barred window. A plate of food sat on the table-a stark contrast to the starvation I had endured.

It smelled of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and something sweet. The tantalizing aroma reminded me how hollow my stomach felt, but I didn't move toward the food.

Before I could make sense of the sudden change, the door creaked open.

The man stepped inside, his suit pristine and his expression smug. Behind him, his wife entered, a mask of politeness, a demeanor I recognized the very day I stepped foot in this house. The two moved with an unsettling confidence, as if the world bent to their will.

"You're awake," the man said, folding his hands in front of him. "Good. It's time we talked."

I glared at him but said nothing. My throat was dry, my voice weak from screaming.

He gestured to the chair by the table. "Sit," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

My legs wobbled as I stood, but I forced myself to remain steady. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I hurt. With slow, deliberate steps, I approached the chair and sat down.

The man remained standing, towering over me like a predator sizing up its prey. "You've proven yourself to be... resilient," he began, his tone almost admiring but I found it stupid. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd last this long."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you want from me?" My voice was hoarse, but the venom in my words was unmistakable.

He smirked, the kind of smile that oozed superiority. "I want what I've always wanted: your cooperation baby girl". But I see now that brute force won't work with you. So, let's try something else."

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms despite the searing pain it caused. "I'm listening," I said, though my distrust was evident.

The man pulled a folder from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and placed it on the table. He opened it to reveal several pages filled with legal jargon and a set of photographs.

The photographs made my stomach churn. One of them caught my attention, it was of me making out with a client some 5 years back, my very last job before I got into prison. In quote, they were of me-years ago, back when I lived a life I had tried so hard to leave behind. A life filled with mistakes and regrets.

He tapped one of the photos, his expression turning serious. "You see, Thelma, I know exactly who you are. I know about your past, your crimes, and your secrets. And I know how badly you want to escape that shadow. To live a life where no one knows your name or your sins my dear."

My fists clenched under the table. "Get to the point," I snapped.

He nodded, unbothered by my hostility. "I'm offering you a deal. You agree to marry this man-play the part of a devoted wife for two week-and in return, I'll make everything disappear. Your record, your debts, your enemies. You'll be free to start over, anywhere you want."

I stared at him, disbelief warring with temptation. "And what if I refuse?"

His smirk returned, colder this time. "Then I release everything to the authorities. Every little dirty secret, every piece of evidence they need to ensure you never see the outside of a prison cell again. And this time, it won't be for just a few years. You'll rot there."

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on me. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but deep down, I knew he had me cornered.

"What about the girl?" I asked, my voice quieter now. "Your daughter. Does she even know what you're doing?"

The man's face hardened. "My daughter doesn't understand what's best for her. She's young, naïve. She thinks love is enough to fix a broken man. But she's wrong. This marriage isn't about her feelings. It's about securing a future for my family."

"And what happens to me after the week is over?" I asked, my chest tight with dread.

He shrugged, as if the answer didn't matter. "That depends on you. If you play your part well, I'll make sure you have everything you need to disappear. If not... well, you know what's at stake."

I looked at the photographs again, my past staring back at me like a ghost. I thought about the pain I had endured, the hunger, the regrets, the insults, the fear. I thought about the life I had dreamed of, the freedom I had craved.

And I realized I had no choice.

"Fine," I said finally, my voice trembling. "I'll do it. But you'd better keep your end of the deal."

The man's smirk widened, victory gleaming in his eyes. "Smart girl," he said, extending a hand.

I didn't take it.

Instead, I leaned back in the chair, my resolve hardening. 'I'll just do it. I don't want more trouble,' I thought. 'I'll do what they want, and I'll be free within weeks'

The man didn't seem to notice the fret in my eyes as he gathered his papers and turned to leave. His wife lingered for a moment, her gaze meeting mine.

"You made the right choice," she said softly, almost sympathetically. But I could see the cracks in her facade. She wasn't as indifferent as she wanted me to believe.

As the door closed behind them, I sat alone in the room, my heart pounding. The deal was sealed. The path ahead was treacherous, but I had made my decision.

______________________

The next week passed in a blur. They cleaned me up, dressed me in fine clothes, and trained me in how to act around the tycoon's son. Every day, I was paraded in front of their daughter, her gaze full of loathing, jealousy and anger.

"This is 'my' wedding," she hissed one evening as I stood before a seamstress, trying on the white gown. "You're nothing but a placeholder. Pathetic gold digger."

I bit back a retort. Her hatred didn't matter; I had bigger enemies to worry about.

I wondered when that day would finally come, I hope it's soon because I want to be free from all this shit at once.