CHAPTER 1: MARRY HIM
1162 Words
“You must marry that man. You see that man, Edward? You must marry him!”
Adam Johnson’s voice thundered through the sitting room, his face dark with fury.
Clara Johnson sat stiffly on the couch, staring at her father in disbelief. Her heart pounded as she struggled to process his words. “Daddy… you want me to marry a man who is only four years younger than you? You’re fifty-four, and he’s fifty! And me? I’m just twenty-two!” Her voice shook with anger. “How could you even think of something so cruel?”
BAM!
A sharp slap sent Clara’s head snapping to the side. Her cheek burned, her vision blurred with unshed tears.
“You ungrateful child!” Adam roared. “Do you think this is about love? This is about survival! When your useless mother ran away, I raised you alone! And when she came back only to die, who was the one still taking care of you? Me!” He jabbed a finger at his chest. “I fed you, clothed you, sent you to the best schools! And this is how you repay me? By questioning me?”
Clara clenched her fists. Her whole body shook with rage and pain, but she refused to back down. “I didn’t ask to be born into your debt! I won’t marry Edward, no matter how much you try to force me. I’d rather die than be his wife!”
Adam’s face turned red with rage. “You will do as I say!”
Another slap. Then another. Clara staggered but didn’t fall.
Tears streamed down her face, but her voice was firm. “You can hit me all you want, but my answer is still no. I will never marry him.”
A fake, sugary voice interrupted the tense moment.
“Clara, sweetheart, your father and I only want what’s best for you.”
Clara turned to see her stepmother, Elizabeth Johnson, moving toward her with an all-too-familiar smile. It was the same smile she always wore when she was about to manipulate someone.
Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on Clara’s shoulder, her long, manicured nails digging slightly into her skin. “Edward is a very wealthy man. He will take care of you. And more importantly, he promised to save your father’s business.”
Clara’s stomach twisted.
“So that’s what this is really about,” she whispered bitterly. “You’re selling me to a fifty-year-old man to save the company?”
Elizabeth didn’t even flinch. “It’s not selling, darling. It’s sacrifice. For your father. For your family. For everything we’ve done for you.”
Clara could barely contain her disgust. “If you’re so eager to make sacrifices, why don’t you send your own daughter to marry him? After all, she’s twenty-five—three years older than me!”
The smile on Elizabeth’s face disappeared.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “My daughter has her own future planned. But you? This is your only chance at a secure life. Marry Edward, give him a child within a year, and even if he dies, you’ll be rich beyond your wildest dreams.”
Clara’s hands trembled with fury. “You make me sick.”
A heavy silence filled the room. Adam and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, and for the first time, Clara saw something flicker in their eyes—fear.
She scoffed. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? Afraid I’ll expose you? I’ve been ignoring it all these years, but maybe it’s time I finally ask… how exactly did my mother die?”
Elizabeth went pale. Adam’s fists clenched.
“Get out.”
Clara froze.
“I said GET OUT!” Adam bellowed, his voice shaking the room.
Clara swallowed hard. She had expected this moment to come—the day her father would throw her away like she was nothing.
With one last, long look at the people who were supposed to be her family, she turned and walked out.
The door slammed shut behind her.
She was alone.
No family. No home. No money.
But at least… she was free.
Lost in the Night
Clara walked for hours, her mind blank.
The streetlights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the empty sidewalks. Cold wind blew against her skin, making her shiver. She had nowhere to go, no plan, no destination.
She kept walking.
The farther she got from that house, the lighter she felt. Even though she was homeless and lost, it was better than being trapped in a marriage she didn’t want.
Just as she was thinking about where she could spend the night, a loud screech shattered the silence.
Clara turned just in time to see a black luxury car speeding down the street. The tires screamed against the asphalt, swerving dangerously—
CRASH!
The car slammed into an abandoned building with a deafening impact.
Clara gasped, her heart pounding. Someone was inside that car!
Before she could rush forward, two more vehicles pulled up, their headlights blinding in the darkness.
The doors flew open, and men in black suits stepped out.
Clara froze.
Something about them felt dangerous.
She quickly hid behind a pile of crates, peeking through a small gap.
The men approached the wrecked car, their hands resting on guns strapped to their waists. One of them peered inside the vehicle, then turned back to the others.
“He’s gone.”
The words sent a chill down Clara’s spine.
One of the men pulled out his phone. “Sir, everything is handled. No traces leading back to you.”
A deep, cold voice responded from the other end.
“Good. Now let’s see how he plans to challenge me from the grave.”
Clara’s heart hammered in her chest.
This wasn’t an accident. This was a murder.
She covered her mouth to keep from gasping aloud. She had just witnessed something she wasn’t supposed to see.
The men took one last glance at the wreckage before getting into their cars and speeding away.
For a long moment, Clara didn’t move.
Then, gathering her courage, she ran toward the wrecked car.
Inside, a man lay unconscious, blood trickling down his forehead. His suit was torn, and his breathing was faint.
He was still alive.
Clara’s hands trembled as she pulled out her phone and dialed 911.
The sound of sirens filled the night air as paramedics and police arrived.
An officer approached her, his sharp eyes scanning her face. “Miss, what’s your relationship with the victim?”
Clara’s breath caught in her throat.
She had no idea who this man was. She didn’t know his name, why he was targeted, or what kind of danger he was in.
But something in her gut told her that answering this question the wrong way could put her in even more trouble.
Her lips parted. And before she could stop herself, the words slipped out—
“I—I’m his girlfriend.”
- Writer
