THE CEO'S CONTRACTED BRIDE

CAMILLA

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Madeline? Am I getting married? To whom?" I screamed into my phone and shocked myself. I grabbed my bag swiftly and turned to my shift partner at the diner. "I shall make it up to you next time, Clara. Please, it's impertinent that I get home right now; something vital." Clara nodded understandingly. I tried my best to bid my hurried goodbye and rushed off, heart racing by now, jumbled with a whirlwind of both confusion and urgency.

Minutes passed before I got a cab. The words the hotheaded Madeline had said to me were so vile that I hoped it was some sort of sick joke. I could not possibly bring myself to be married at the moment; I had not completely conceived of such a huge commitment. As I slid into the cab's back seat, disbelief, and dread reeled through my mind: I desperately hoped this was somehow all some atrocious prank.

I arrived home and rushed inside, only to be welcomed by my stepmom, Madeline, who seemed like the devil incarnate.

"Oh, you're home so soon, Camilla," she retorted. "You shouldn't have rushed back 'cause whether you're here or not, you're getting married in two weeks."

"Marriage? What do you mean?" I exclaimed incredulously. "How could you sell me out to an old man in his sixties with a potbelly and a bald head? Are you out of your mind?" I threw the questions at her, but she only grinned in response.

"You want to know how much he offered, huh?" she taunted. "He just paid us $75,000 in return to marry you. I mean, where would you ever find somebody who would do that for you? Are you even worth it? Don't you notice that scar on your face, big and disgusting?" Madeline's words burrowed through, her insults making me speechless and breaking me inside.

"I can see you're not in your right mind. How could you sell me out for just $75,000? Is that all my life is worth to you?" I chided her, furious. "Don't I have a life to live? Would you give your daughter, Anna, to him for that amount?"

"Of course not," she said in reply. "My dearest Anna is beautiful, compared to who you are. Have you seen any scar on her face ?" She smiled at me, and words were cut with a more profound insult by the comment. "Aye, soon enough, some suitor will come for her when she's of age to get married, but you aren't worth that. You're an asset we can't afford to risk.

"So what if I have a scar? Is that the end of the world?" I retorted, a storm rising within me. "When I have money, for sure, I will clear my scar. But that does not give you the right to sell me against my will. Are you delusional? Do you need to see a psychiatrist? I just can't understand what thrust you to do this."

"At least I've only got a scar," I continued bitterly. "I am not a prostitute like your daughter, who is so dear to you. She is notorious in school for her waywardness."

Madeline sprang at me, pushed me hard away, and nailed me with a hot slap that sounded from indoors to out. The world began to spin; I lost my equilibrium with the hit. Her hands were broad and strong, something I knew only too well. She had smacked me before, and each time, I found it hard to maintain my equilibrium-my thin and fragile frame couldn't handle the blow.

"If you don't show up here in two weeks for the wedding, I will sell this house and run away, too," Madeline threatened, her voice dripping with malice. "You'll be the only one facing the feisty loan sharks and Mr. Collins." She mentioned Mr. Collins, the man who offered money to marry me-yes, the hunk of money. He was alleged to be rich and with so many wives and concubines, but nobody knew from where he had his wealth. "Then you shall feel the real heat of hell from the earth by then," she added, smirking nonchalantly, relishing her cruel power play.

"You run, but don't sell my mother's house. As for the wedding, I am not marrying him. You can sort yourself out," I said, defiantly.

" We have used it to almost clear the debts your father left. Do you want them to come for your liver, lungs, and kidneys? Maybe even your heart, too, seeing as you have no brain to locate where exactly you are," she commented with every drip of disdain as her remarks continued.

"Do not worry, I'm going to work my ass off and get back all the money for you guys, but I'm not getting married to anyone," I said as I got up from my seat and left home angrily.

"Argh!" I screamed and cried, reaching the roadside in so much pain. "I'm just 22!" Oh, the weight of the situation crashing down on me, overwhelming me with despair and uncertainty.

As I spoke, Madeline's words resonated in my mind as I thought about the deep scar on my left cheek-a constant reminder of the tragic accident that changed my life forever. It happened fifteen years ago while on our way home from work with my mother. The crash was head-on, without warning, and it instantly claimed her life while it left me barely hanging on, wrestling far-reaching injuries. Three months in a coma has left me with not just physical scars but emotional ones as well. The case of hit and run never was solved-My face was left with a permanent mark, a painful testament to all that I lost that day.

The time after my mum's death was even worse. Her friend Margaret took over my mother's business, claiming that my mother owed her much money and had put the company into debt as collateral. My father used to own a small bakery, but after my mother's death, he was ruined.He plunged into drinking and gambling jaunt to devastating debts before he disappeared, leaving me with Madeline alone.

Life with Madeline was a nightmare struggle; she would provide me with minimal sustenance, leaving me for the rest to take care of myself. But every second week, I had to give her $500, scraping together every penny that I earned from my part-time jobs. I had to work since the tender age of twelve just to survive.

I felt a cold drop fall on my back and was snapped out of this crying state. I couldn't go home now with messed-up emotions. My thoughts shifted to my boyfriend. He always knew how to cheer me up whenever I felt low. Without any more thought, I rushed to his house, just to be in his arms before it started to rain heavily.

CAMILLA

Even before I could reach my boyfriend's dormitory, the rain was coming in sheets, going through me, soaking me to the bone. I had left my bag at home; without any money to hail a cab, I was forced to brave the storm. My clothes clung to my shivering body, water dripping from my hair to my toes. I banged on the door, my voice cracking with desperation. 'Matthew, where's Mark?' I asked, teeth chattering, as his roommate opened the door with a concerned expression.

He looked confused, and asked, "Didn't he tell you he wouldn't be here?" "Come in and sit down for a bit; you're drenched. Why did you walk in the rain?" he offered, but I assured him not to worry, as I was already soaked and would try to return to my dorm. Of course, I have heard too many stories of girls being assaulted by boyfriend's friends or brothers. I can't afford to be that girl. So, I ran away. As I dashed off, I heard Matt calling from a distance, "Come and take the umbrella at least." But I was already too far gone.

I reached the front of my dorm, exhausted. Due to my room being on the second floor, I had to drag myself up the stairs since the elevator is restricted after 7 pm. My whole body ached from the strenuous day, and I pulled myself up the steps at a snail's pace. Walking toward my room, I heard a familiar voice call my name. I ignored it, I said, since paranoia is a side effect of fatigue and work. So as I approached the corridor, indeed. My boyfriend was kissing my roomie. When I thought this day wouldn't be more horrendous, this had happened already.

I was so shocked that I screamed before I could cover my mouth. Olivia turned her head towards me, then deliberately kissed him again.

I walked up nearer to them, whispered for them to move. As soon as Mark looked at me, he threw a frown and applied a fake look of concern. He held my hands and said, "Camilla, let's go in and talk." Just then, he was about to drag me inside when Olivia jumped in and reminded him they were going to the 1960 Pub. The 1960 Pub held a special place in my heart; it was where I met Mark and where we celebrated our first and second anniversaries.

"Camilla, come with us," he invited. I gave a timid "yes" reply and followed them to the pub. Olivia was widely known to all the students; the female students hated her because of her ruthless boyfriend-snatching behavior. I thought I would be safe being her room mate, but she did not spare me either. I knew she expected a meltdown out of me, but my emotions were deeply held in. I still couldn't understand when it all started and how it had reached this level with them.

We went downstairs and got to Mark's car. I was about to take the seat in the front, and Olivia's push was so strong that I just went to sit in the back. "Uh-oh! That's my place," she smirked. I knew she was trying to provoke me, but I stayed calm. She looked at me through the car mirror and said, "Mark baby, can't you see water dripping from her clothes? I bet she's going to damage your car seat."

I stepped out of the car quickly and told Mark to go on, that I'd catch them up at the pub. I knew it was what Olivia would want. The rain began to sprinkle as I took off running.

I entered the 1960 Pub, and I found them sitting together, while the opposite place was for me. I shrugged into the place, and Mark gave me a bottle of beer. I took it and opened it using my teeth and then took it all down. To Mark, I said, "what do you want from me?" They were intractable and still doing lovey-dovey in front of me. "Let's stop it, Mark. Let's call it quits," I blurted out. "Now you can let the world witness your public love life with your precious wretched whore."

Olivia flipped her head to me, face now angry. "Are you mad your boyfriend is picking me over you?" she spat back. "You did this to yourself, Camilla. Just look at how rough you are, even with that ugly scar on your face. Your dress ought to speak for you but is always so plain. You do all these part-time jobs and have no time for him. What guy in his right mind would want to keep dating someone like you and not get bored?" She grinned smugly.

I snatched the drink glass in front of her and splashed it across her face. "Damn you, Olivia, you bitchy whore!" I screamed, my words oozing with venom. "Is this because I've not been losing my temper? Is it because I am not a fool like you and have realized that it is now finally time for a breakup? Are you then mad at me because I did not react as you wanted?" My voice echoed with righteous anger. "It's no secret on this campus; everybody knows about you and your waywardness. Maybe you're oblivious to it?" I continued my words cutting through the tension. "You've taken and claimed the trash that I need no part of in my life." With that, I stood up to leave while Olivia was shocked. She stood up abruptly and grabbed my hair so tight.

I shouted to let go, but she wouldn't, grasping my hair tightly from behind. The pub patrons turned around, and we were at the climax of an altercation. But not going to be a victim again, I turned around, totally disregarding the pain I was going to have on my scalp, and delivered a blow right into Olivia's nose. The force of the blow sent her staggering backward, blood gushing from her broken nose. I stayed my ground; I would not be intimidated at all anymore.

CAMILLA

Mark's sudden movement took me by surprise, and he scrambled to be at Olivia's side with a tissue to wipe off the blood. His words stabbed me like a sharp knife about frustration and judgment.

"Camilla, I thought that now that you know I don't want you anymore, you will leave pleasantly, but I was wrong," he spat, his gaze stabbing me in the chest like a murderer's glance would. "I wanted to respect and protect your reputation, but now you disgust me." His words hurt. They left me feeling betrayed and deserted-under his condemnation.

"Yes, I wanted to leave you and your senseless dog, but can't you see that she was the one who pulled my hair?" I replied with a frown on my forehead while frustration was boiling inside me.

"You ugly face thing," Mark spat, his anger flaring. "You splashed a drink on her face first. Now, if you don't want a problem, apologize to Olivia."The more he demanded furiously, the more it incited my indignation because the injustice of the situation was nailing hard on me.

"What should I apologize for, Mark?" I snapped defiantly. "It seems you've forgotten that I'm no longer your submissive girlfriend. I broke up with you 20 minutes ago," I smirked, feeling so free. I tried leaving, but Mark tightened his grip on my hand painfully-it gave me pain even with the jolt shooting through me. Acting purely on instinct, I lunged a vicious punch at his groin, and he let go with a yelp of pain. "Let go of me, you son of a bitch!" I wrenched my hand free from his grasp.

Not looking back, I ran out of the pub as fast as I could, the cold rain splashing on me as I fled. Finding a spot by the road, I sank under a wave of sadness and frustration. Tears poured down my cheeks, meeting with the raindrops that unrelentingly fell from the sky. It was as though the universe decided to conspire on making my day a complete misfortune, and I could not do anything but give in to the despair engulfed me.

I got lost in thought, deeply involved with how things got so messed up with Mark. Did Olivia manipulate him, or had he become senseless himself? He had never once belittled my scar. Far from it, promising that it wasn't the end of the world and all was well. He had been my rock-the source of strength and joy in times of sadness. He knew my struggles in life-my daily hustle just to make it through-and I had never asked him for financial support.

Broken, desperate and lost, I stood still in the middle of the rain, thoughts running through my head repeatedly over Madeline's ultimatum. How in the world would I come up with $75,000 in just two weeks? Was Mr. Collins going to marry me? Was my life as I knew it really over? I felt utterly broken, sunk under the weight of the world. I sat there with my thoughts, apparently for hours, until the sound of a cat's meow jarred me out of my flow. With a very heavy heart, I rose and set off to go home. Waving frantically to every passing vehicle, none stopped, leaving me feeling invisible and alone in the bitter, wet night.

A car passed, and the driver asked me if I was up for a date tonight. I just replied that all I needed was a lift to the front of the campus gate. "Do I look like a good Samaritan to you, bitch? I need a babe to have fun with tonight. I'm so full." he replied even more indecently. He disgusted me; I was disrespected. As he rode off hurriedly, he intentionally splashed water on me, literally adding insult to injury. "What a jerk!" I quietly said to myself, shaken by the encounter.

Another car passed by, and he stopped abruptly. The man alighted with an umbrella and ushered me into his car. My cellphone was filled with water and was not turning on. I can't call any friends to sleep over at their side. I can't go home; I can't go back to the dormitory.

Where should I drop you off? He asked me.

"For now, I don't have any place to go somehow ." My voice was barely a whisper. He took me to a 5-star hotel. Gave me a special VIP room card. He told me to enter the hotel and show them the card so that they would let me in. He further said that when I woke up the following morning and was about to leave, I should drop the card at the VIP reception then he drove off.

Who could tell my unlucky day would finish with this tipping of goodness? Although the goodness could not arguably satiate my bad day altogether, I felt relieved and relaxed.

Inside the hotel, I did as instructed. They told me to have something to eat at the VIP cafeteria and to get a new dress in the VIP boutique. I was too tired to eat, but I did try to eat my best, for I had not eaten anything good on the whole day. I could not go to the boutique, so I planned for the following morning. I went to the room. I ran the hot water and sat in there for a few minutes, reminiscing about the whole day. In no short time, I felt so sleepy. I went to bed and slept naked.

The following day, I awoke and then ran to the boutique to buy a new gorgeously designed piece of cloth-all the dresses there were so costly, but later, one was slightly cheaper. And fortunately, it was my exact size. I ran back to the room, took another hot bath, and then changed.

I hurried to the student savings and disbursal desk and withdrew some money. With the money in my possession, I got a room at the short-let apartment not far from the school. I went to the hostel in the afternoon, after I had already signed the lease and was eager to move with my luggage because I couldn't even stay in the same place with Olivia. She disgusts me so much that I might just end up killing her one day. I packed my stuff, which wasn't much.

As I was about to leave, she stepped in, held my hand, and pulled me back. "Don't you think we have scores to settle?" she said abruptly. On the table was a pen, so I went into a rage, picked it up, and pointed it toward her eyes. She became so frightened. "Stay away from me, you wretched wench, if you don't want me to stab your eyes." I took my belongings and left the room.