Owned by his Guilt

Chapter 2

After finding out her mother was no more, Eleanor Cargill, a three-year practitioner doctor at the Johnson Hospital and the first daughter of the Cargill enterprise, known for its ties in the oil industry and finance, rode her black-tinted 2022 Mercedes down the streets of Maytown.

The world narrowed to the stretch of the road before her eyes. The boundaries were becoming unclear with her eyes not knowing how to concentrate anymore. She gripped the steering wheel so hard that the joints in her knuckles got burnt.

The car continued but she felt not part of it as though she was floating just over her own head and was looking as a stranger driving with wet tears on her face.There was no scream. No dramatic cry. Just silence. Memories crashed in without warning. Her mother’s laugh, the way she called her name, and each one hurt more than the last.

She would have liked to give a turn, to go round and go back in time before the call. Rather, the road continued, unmistakably apathetic, as her life was divided into two parts: before the phone, and everything that was going to happen.

She shivered as she entered the Cargill premises. It was not just by chance that she has not seen her family in over five years.

It may have had to do with the fact that the last time she was home was for another burial; her elder brother Jason.

The compound's gates looked almost frightening and immaculate at the same time. It opened wide almost immediately as tho they had been awaiting her arrival

The drive up to the main house was nostalgic. This place was really special to her. The house remained the same in every way. It was like no time had passed. She felt good to be home.

In the driveway, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, preparing herself for what was to happen. She let out a sound that surprised her—small, broken, and exhausted.

She finally got up the nerve. Stepped out of the car. The air passed through her long brown hair, which made her have a dramatic appearance. There was still an aspect of her reluctant to see her father yet she had no choice but to do so.

“For mom” she said as she signed softly.

The house had stairs that appeared to go on forever.

The house smelt the same; memories maybe. She searched the room for any familiar face till she spotted her sister

“Adeline,” she said softly, just enough for her to hear.

Her sister was the first thing that felt real.

Adeline ran toward her without hesitation, thinner than she used to be. Her eyes were too old to belong to a little girl of her age. Like strawberries she smelled. They reminded her of home. They embraced each other a little longer than most other individuals, inhaling together, as though sorrow would burst were they to speak too loud.

“You came” Adeline whispered as tho surprised.” Of course I did” she said, because there was nothing else to say. Adeline's eyes were wet and red. They looked helpless as tho she had been crying for hours.

She spotted her father standing in the corner.

Her father didn’t hug her. He nodded once, like she was a visitor who was not really welcome. His eyes were tired, sharper somehow. Grief had hardened him.

She walked up to him, and she gave him a slight bow showing a sign of respect. “Hi Daddy”

“Your bedroom has been set up for your arrival, freshen up and come down for dinner” he said as tho she was a stranger in her own home.

Eleanor wasn't surprised, she never expected him to wrap his arms around her and profess his love for her. Everyone knew Joseph Cargil's emotions died along with his son.

Dinner was quiet. Her father barely looked up. Adeline spoke when the silence became too uncomfortable. She filled it with small updates that had happened. Who had married, who had moved away, who still asked about her.

Later, when the house grew quiet at night, her father called her into his study.

At the entrance, Adeline stood firm at the door with a worried look on her face “ Maybe you shouldn't go in”

I brushed her hand aside “I'll be fine, you know I can handle him” Eleanor said as she went in.

Adeline hovered near the doorway hoping to catch a glimpse of their conversation.

The wooden office and the centuries old paintings gave it an Italian touch. The room was large with a huge bookcase that appeared to occupy half the room. One of the pictures was a photo frame that was on his table; it was their family portrait when she was young.

She pondered, “Perhaps he still has a heart”.

All that was not said burdened the space separating the two people as they sat opposite each other. He was not obscure, like talking about the weather. “Something you have to know”, her father said.He did not soften his tone.

“ It turns out that your mom's death was not an accident after all”

“Wait—sorry what!!!” “So it's true what Adeline said about mom being poisoned.”

“Everything is complicated right now.” “It would seem our family is being targeted, I don't know why but I've come up with a brief solution to secure a strong advantage” he sighed briefly before continuing

“You're going to get married”

“The marriage had been arranged. A good and reputable family. They're stronger than us in both power and wealth. They'll be a good addition to our family.” he said pleased

The words landed one after another, efficient and merciless.

Five years away, and still, her life was being decided in her absence.

“No I just got back, and besides I have a boyfriend” she said quietly.

Her voice sounded smaller than she remembered.

Her father sighed, rubbing his hands together. “This is your home, we all have a duty to this family,” he replied. “This is how things are done.”

But she knew then that home was no longer a place that protected her. It was a place that demanded her.

“And if I refuse?” she said hoping to get out of this unpleasant scenario

“Then your sister will take your place”

If her mother were alive, this conversation would not be happening this way. The realization hurt more than the marriage

“You are back now,” he said. “And this family needs order.”

She nodded. She couldn't doom her sister to such a fate but something inside her was quietly breaking. Five years of independence, of choosing herself, dissolved in a room.

And for the first time since she arrived, she finally cried—not because her mother was gone, but because there was no one left to stand between her and a life she had not chosen was a tough pill to swallow. She had to deal with the fact that she was all alone now and the life she had not chosen was the option she had.

“He arrives tomorrow” her father said.