Acceptance of fate
1094 Words
I stood there, shocked, my breath caught in my throat. Francis leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
“You owe me,” he said coolly. “You’ll come as my girlfriend to this business party.”
My lips parted in disbelief. “Francis—”
“No negotiations, Hazel. You said you’d repay me. This is it.”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. Not after everything he’d done. My pride shriveled under the weight of obligation.
“I’ll get ready,” I muttered.
---
An hour later, I stared at myself in the mirror. The green bodycon dress hugged every curve. Floor-length, satin, with a dangerously low neckline. My chest rose and fell faster than normal. My eyes, rimmed with gold eyeshadow, were a little too bright.
I didn’t know who this woman in the mirror was. Confident? Maybe. Nervous? Definitely.
Francis had been waiting in the living room, his phone in hand. The soft scent of my perfume and the deliberate rhythm of my heels echoed in the hallway. He looked up. His eyes darkened for a second, then he blinked it away.
The memory of that night—the one he swore he’d forget—washed over him like a tidal wave. My sleeping figure. The way my dress had slipped, revealing more than I’d intended.
I stood in front of him. “Done,” I said with a soft smile.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Awesome,” he said.
---
The venue screamed opulence. Glass chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls. Velvet curtains. Crystal flutes of champagne in silver trays. Cameras flashed.
Paparazzi swarmed us the moment we stepped out of the car.
“Miss, are you Mr. Francis Wilson’s mistress?”
“Did you snatch him from Miss Bianca Owens?”
“Are you a gold-digger?”
I froze, stunned.
Francis gently pulled me inside, shielding me. “I’m sorry,” he murmured once we passed the chaos.
“It’s fine,” I said, but my smile wobbled.
Inside, the pressure was heavier. Wealth and pride floated in the air. We stood hand-in-hand, but the warmth of his palm didn’t reach my soul.
Then I saw her.
My mother. Talking animatedly with Mrs. Wilson—Juliana. My heart stuttered.
Mrs. Wilson turned and walked over with polished grace.
“Yasmine.” Her voice was silk.
I returned her smile automatically. My mum’s eyes gleamed with triumph as she stepped forward and hugged me tightly.
“Oh, my daughter,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t felt like her daughter in years.
“Oh, Juliana,” she said. “I can’t believe we’ve become family friends so fast.”
I swallowed hard. I knew that tone. Mum was on a mission.
Juliana chuckled, eyes glinting. “Why don’t we get them married?”
Francis stiffened beside me. “Isn’t this too early?” he said quickly.
“Kids these days!” Mum snapped. “Always thinking you know more.”
The walls closed in. If I didn’t act fast, they’d set a wedding date right there.
“We’re still young,” I said, forcing a laugh. “Marriage is too early, don’t you think?”
My mother’s glare could’ve melted steel.
“Excuse us,” she hissed, grabbing my wrist and dragging me toward the hallway.
---
From across the room, Maxwell watched Hazel being pulled away. Juliana stood by the punch table, her husband forgotten.
“She looks like her, right?” she asked, her voice a ghost of emotion.
Alex, her husband, gave a slow nod. “That’s why I accepted her. While Yasmine is in heaven, Hazel will represent her on Earth.”
Francis stepped into their circle, his voice sharp. “Mum, what are you talking about?”
Juliana turned to him. “Francis, no matter what—you’ll marry her. I’ll speak to your grandfather if I must.”
“Mum, please—”
She cut him off with a wave and walked off.
Francis looked at his father, pleading. “Dad, convince her. Please.”
Alex shrugged, looking exhausted. “Don’t want trouble. Go face your troubles.”
---
“Mum, what the hell is wrong with you?” I pushed her arm off me as she pinned me against the wall backstage.
“What’s wrong with you?” she barked. “You think I’m doing this for me? Do this. Marry Francis.”
“I can’t believe you. You’re heartless! I’ve lived 22 years breaking myself just to be good enough—”
Slap.
My face snapped to the side.
“You ungrateful child! You are nothing! Refuse this marriage and forget your family!”
The blow didn’t hurt as much as her words. I stood there, numb. I washed my face in the restroom, reapplied lipstick with trembling hands, and forced a smile back on.
---
Francis scanned the crowd. “Where’s Hazel?”
Linda, his cousin, sipped her drink. “She went to the washroom.”
Then it happened. Old Lincoln, Francis’s grandfather, took the stage. His voice boomed across the room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced, raising his glass. “My grandson is getting married this weekend to the heiress of the Davids—Hazel Davids.”
A gasp rippled through the room. Francis’s eyes darted wildly, searching. My heart pounded in my chest like a warning bell.
Then chaos erupted.
“No! No! This is impossible!”
Bianca. She fell to her knees, mascara streaking down her face.
“I’ll be a good wife! Please!”
Her father marched forward, grabbing her elbow. “Bianca, get up and stop being stupid!”
“Shut up!” she screamed.
“This is all your fault!” she yelled, pointing at Francis.
“Bianca, baby—”
“Leave me alone!”
“Get them out,” Juliana ordered with a snap of her fingers.
Security moved quickly. Bianca’s cries faded down the hallway.
Silence settled—but only on the surface. Underneath, everything was cracking.
---
I stood by the window, watching my reflection blur against the glass. My fists were clenched.
I had just been sold, paraded, and claimed—like property. But all I could see was my mother’s glare, daring me to disobey.
I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Hazel Davids? Heiress? Pawn? Replacement for Yasmine?
But I knew one thing. This wasn’t peace. This was war in expensive clothing.
And I had just become the center of it all.
- Writer
