I Am My Father's Gambling Collateral

ELENA'S POV I stood at the edge of the pit as my father's casket was being lowered into his grave, my life flashed before my eyes. The last memory of how lively he was before he went to bed and couldn't wake up again, kept traumatizing me. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” I kept shouting before help came, and he was rushed down to the hospital. The cry of our head chef, Carlos, snapped me back to reality as he was wailing even more than I was myself. I couldn't stop wondering how delicate life was and how you could lose anyone to death anytime. “I was there to say my last goodbye.” “And my mother?” Oh… she left a very long time ago, since I was five. According to her, she could no longer keep up with my father and his lifestyle. She was more concerned about her well-being and she neglected me. She left without looking back. The only memory left of her was the picture frame on my study table. I barely remember what she looks like now. Suddenly, the clouds at Saint Steve's Cemetery got darker and the rain started pouring. Looks like the universe was aware of my grief. The priest kept on with the procedures and while at it, I noticed a man dressed in all black with a black shade, watching me from afar. I started to feel uncomfortable and hoped for the priest to hurry up with the whole process. What do I expect? My father had a lot of enemies and I might be in danger as he's no longer here to protect me. While trying to put my thoughts together, I saw a black tinted SUV driving in. Who could that be, at this point and time? Well… my late father was a man of many men. The driver came down and went on to open the back door. A man dressed in a well-tailored charcoal black suit, stepped out of the car. Looking all polished with a tobacco stick in his mouth. His presence commanded attention and fear, as everyone present started murmuring. “Silas Vance?” I muttered with surprise written all over my face. What could he be doing here? Silas Vance was one of my father's rivals, a man in his late 50s, still looking young and agile. He still got the charms and I can only imagine how women drooled over him when he was much younger. He was never on good terms with my father till his demise and if he was there, it meant nothing but trouble. Says much about why I was being watched by the weird-looking guy standing some distance away at my own father's funeral. “He will be greatly missed,” Silas said, spreading his two hands and wearing “a wicked smile” on his face, while approaching the pit where my father's casket was laid. Everyone on his path made way for him, knowing fully well the type of man he was, wicked and brutal. He could command his men to disrupt the event, but maybe he came to rub it in on me that my father was finally gone. Who knows? As Silas got to the edge of the pit, he looked down and let out a smoke of tobacco from his mouth. He muttered some words to the grave, but I couldn't hear them as the priest cut in with the final prayers. The grave was covered, and I was being accompanied by the head chef, Carlos, since I didn't have many friends aside from Lilian, who has been a true friend since college, but she was unavailable as she was out of town. All my life has revolved in staying mostly indoors and being protected. I wasn't allowed to associate with a lot of people or make many friends. I could remember the hard work I put in, just for my late father to accept Lilian. My life has been a boring one, no too many casual activities, just official ones. Everyone departed, and the head chef, Carlos, and I were waiting for the driver to take the car closer to pick us up. While waiting, Silas came behind me. “You must be Thorne's girl,” he said. His voice, bold, cold and fearful. Your father owes me a great deal, I'm sure you're not aware of the debt. He said, trying to bring his old hand to touch me on the face. “The debt?...” I repeated, with my voice trembling. “Yes… his gambling debts." And you, my dear, are the human collateral. Silas said, smiling while tucking my front hair to the back of my ear. He signaled one of his boys and he came up with a file, stretching it to Silas. “Here boss,” he gave it to him and returned to the car. Silas collected the file and brought out a piece of paper. The ink was dark, the signature was unmistakably my father's. “A Contract Marriage."