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CHAPTER TWO
As the breeze blow the blinds back and forth, hot sun rays shun on Elana on her bed and she awoke, startled.
"Oh no!, I wish the night never ended" Elana grunts as she opened her eyes to the bright light of the morning.
Her heart started thudding when for a moment, she was suspended in a haze of forgetfulness that clung to the last threads of a dream she couldn't quite recall.
But then the weight of reality came crashing down on her like a wave. Today, was her wedding day as it had been decided by her parents that she would be wedded to Troy, a Mafia Lord who is well feared and respected throughout the region in other to repay their family's debt.
She rose from the bed as the mansion had already started buzzing with the hum of preparations like–footsteps in the hallway, distant whispers and the scent of flowers been carried by the breeze, are been rolled in place for the event.
She looked up to where the dress hung and
"Wow!, even the dress looks like a ghost, with the Ivory silk material and those beadwork– they're just symbols of everything I didn't want". She complained
No matter how many times she tried to convince herself otherwise, she realized that marrying Troy felt like surrendering to a future that was never meant to be hers.
"How could she marry a man she barely knew, a man whose touch chilled her more than it comforted?" She thought.
Elana stood in the middle of the living room with her fists clenched at her side and with a voice ladened with fury. "You're selling me off like I'm some kind of property! I don't love him. I don't even know him!" she argued.
Her mother's expression tightened, but it was her father who stepped forward as his eyes blazed with anger.
"This isn't about love, Elana," he snapped. "It's about loyalty and security. This marriage will protect our family's future and yours."
She laughed bitterly as she blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. "Protect me? From what-my own life? You're sacrificing me so that you can make deals in dark corners and sleep better at night!"
Her mother's voice sound in the background. "You'll learn to respect Troy. In time, you'll understand why this is necessary."
"I'll never respect a man who sees me as a prize to be claimed," Elana shot back. "And I'll never forgive either of you for forcing me into this."
With a tightened jaw. "Enough, the invitations have been sent and the alliance is sealed. You will marry Troy." her father finalized
Elana's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Then you're sentencing me to a life I'll never stop trying to escape." she declared as she dashed away from their presence.
*******
While all of those drama unfolded at the Masons mansion, Troy had sent a warning to Mr Mason about the wedding and he has excused himself to visit Troy in other to smooth things out with him.
Troy stood tall in the study, his presence seem dark and unyielding as he stared down at Elana's father across the polished mahogany desk.
"We had a deal," he uttered, with a low voice but which was laced with warning. "Today, Elana becomes my wife or you face the consequences. I've kept my end of our deal in protecting your interests, cleaned up your debts and shielded your family from enemies who would've eaten you alive."
He took a slow step forward, "But if she doesn't walk down that aisle today, consider our arrangement void. And I don't think I need to remind you what happens when I'm crossed."
Mr. Mason's face became pale as his fingers tightened around his glass of scotch. "She's being difficult," he muttered while he tried to avoid Troy's stare. "She's... young and emotional. You know how these things are." he tried to explain.
But Troy wasn't moved by excuses. He leaned in slightly, his voice became colder now. "This isn't about emotions. This is business and I don't care if she's scared, furious, or running out the damned back door-I expect a bride to meet me at that altar. If not......" He left the word hanging.
*******
Back at the Mason's mansion, Elana sat on the edge of her bed, as she starred at the wedding dress draped across the chair, looking as if it was mocking her. Her mind raced and her heart pounded with the dread of what lay ahead.
Every moment that passed brought her closer to a future she had no say in-a life bound to a man she feared, in a world she didn't choose. She had begged, cried and pleaded with her parents, but they had been unmoved. No one was coming to save her.
That realization struck her with cruel finality. If she couldn't run, there was only one way left to take back her power: escape through the only door that couldn't be locked.
She waited until the house quieted a little and she slipped into her closet. Her hands trembled as she opened the cabinet and she began to scatter the rows of perfumes and beauty creams in search of the small bottle that contained some sleeping pills which she had hidden for some time.
She poured a handful into her palm immediately she'd enter the bathroom and each tablet became a silent rebellion against the fate forced upon her. Her reflection in the mirror stared back, she looked pale but determined, and for the first time in days, her breath became easier.
If death was the only way out, then she would greet it with open arms. She swallowed the pills all in one go and her chest tightened not with fear but relief.
She was found unconscious hours later on the bathroom floor, her skin was clammy and her pulse had gone faint. The house erupted into chaos-screams, wails and the rush of feet echoing through the halls.
But Elana, who was drifting between the darkness and the echo of her heartbeat, felt none of it. Her body was limp and her lips tinged with blue–for a fleeting moment, it seemed her plan had worked. She had broken free. But fate, as cruel as it had been before, wasn't finished with her yet.
A scream from Elana's room cut through the entire mansion and everyone that heard it stopped whatever they were doing abruptly.
"Sir!" one of the maids cried as she raced down the staircase–her face stricken with panic. "It's Miss Elana, she's not responding! We found her on the bathroom floor, she's not waking up!"
Elana's father raced up the stairs two at a time and burst into her bedroom only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw Elana lay sprawled on the marble tiles–motionless and with a half-empty bottle of pills on the floor beside her. "Elana," he whispered as he fell to his knees beside her. "No, no, no... what have you done?"
Tears pricked his eyes as he grabbed her hand, it was cold and lifeless. "Get the car!" he shouted to the butler. "We're not waiting for an ambulance-start the engine! Now!" he barked.
As they carried her limp form through the house, Mr. Mason felt the crushing weight of his decisions settle over him. The deal with Troy, the pressure, the threats-it had all pushed her to this.
And now, as they sped towards the hospital with sirens blaring in the distance, he was no longer thinking about alliances or contracts. He was thinking only of his daughter and the blood on his own hands.