The First Morning
1141 Words
The maid found me on the floor. I had fallen out of bed sometime in the night. I did not remember falling. I did not remember anything after 3 AM.
I woke up on the cold floor.
My body ached. My throat was swollen. I could not swallow. My bandaged hand was throbbing. The white dress was wrinkled and stained with blood that had dried to a dark brown.
The maid was standing over me. Her mouth was moving. I could not read her lips. She was not looking at me.
She knelt down. She touched my shoulder. Her eyes were wide. Worried.
"Miss? Miss, can you hear me?"
She was looking at me now.
I nodded. I pulled out my tablet. My hands were shaking.
I typed: I am fine. I fell.
"You do not look fine. You look like you have a fever."
She touched my forehead. Her hand was cool. My skin was burning.
"You are very warm. I should call the doctor."
I typed: No. No doctor. I am fine. Just tired.
She hesitated. "Don Romano said you need to be in the conference room in one hour."
I typed: I will be there.
She helped me up. She guided me to the bathroom.
"I will bring you fresh clothes," she said. "And breakfast."
I typed: Thank you.
She left.
I stood in front of the mirror.
I looked like death.
Dark circles under my eyes. Bloodstains on my lips. Cracked skin. Hollow cheeks. My hair was tangled. My bandage was soaked through.
I unwrapped the bandage. The cut on my palm was red and swollen. It hurt to move my fingers.
I washed my face. I brushed my hair. I wrapped a new bandage around my hand.
The maid came back with a dress. Black this time. Simple. Long sleeves.
"Don Romano said you are to wear this."
I typed: Thank you.
She left.
I put on the dress. I looked in the mirror.
The stranger was still there. But now she looked dangerous. Like a weapon wrapped in silk.
I picked up my tablet. I walked out of the room.
The conference room was full when I arrived.
The five families. Alessio at the head. Daniil Volkov at the other end.
Everyone turned to look at me when I walked in.
Daniil Volkov smiled. "Miss Mercer. You look... different than yesterday."
I typed: I got married.
"To whom?"
I looked at Alessio. He was watching me. His gray eyes were cold.
I typed: To Don Romano.
The room went quiet.
Daniil's smile faltered. Just for a moment. Then it returned.
"Congratulations," he said. "I hope you will be very happy together."
He looked at Alessio. Alessio looked at him.
No one said anything.
Then Alessio spoke.
"Sit down. We have work to do."
I sat beside him. The negotiations began.
The Bianchi don spoke first. Rapid Italian. I read his lips. My fingers flew across the tablet. I showed the translation to Alessio.
The Conti don spoke. Russian. I read his lips. Translated.
The Volkovs spoke. English with a heavy accent. I read his lips. Translated.
Everyone spoke at once. I turned my head back and forth, trying to catch every word. I needed to do my job properly so i could get paid at the end of the day.
Daniil Volkov looked at me. "You sound different than yesterday, Mrs. Romano."
Mrs. Romano. Not Miss Mercer. Mrs. Romano.
The name felt like a brand on my skin.
Also, why was he talking to me when there was something important being negotiated?
I typed: I have a cold. And tried to focus on what was being discussed.
"You have had a cold for days."
I typed: It is a bad cold.
He leaned forward. His blue eyes were warm. Deceptive.
"Perhaps you should see a doctor. A specialist. I know someone who could help."
Alessio's hand blocked his side and spoke. "She does not need your help, Daniil. Focus on the deal."
Daniil leaned back. He smiled. "Of course."
The meeting ended.
The men left. Daniil paused at the door. He looked at me.
"Get some rest, Mrs. Romano. You look like you are about to collapse."
Then he was gone.
I sat at the table. My hands were shaking and my head was pounding but atleast i had done better today.
Alessio stood over me.
"Come with me."
I followed him to his study.
He closed the door.
"Volkov knows something is wrong with you."
I typed: There is nothing wrong with me.
"You are bleeding from your face. You can barely speak. You look like you have not slept in days. There is something wrong with you."
I typed: It is stress.
"Why are you stressed? I have not touched you. I have not threatened you. I have given you a room, food and protection."
I typed: You locked me in a cage.
"It is not a cage. It is a room."
I typed: With a lock on the outside.
He was silent for a moment.
"The lock is for your protection. The Volkovs want you dead. If you wander around the penthouse, you are a target."
I typed: Then let me go home.
"You cannot go home. You are my wife now."
I typed: This marriage is not real.
"It is real enough. The contract is signed. The vows were spoken. The blood was shed. You are mine."
I looked at him. His gray eyes were cold. Empty.
I typed: You do not even know me.
"I know enough."
"You know nothing about me."
He stepped closer. "Then tell me. Who are you? What do you want? Why do you type instead of speaking? Why do you flinch every time I am around? Why do you look at me like I am a monster when I have not done anything to you?"
I said nothing. I could not answer. The answers would destroy me.
He waited. I did not type.
He walked to the door.
"Fix yourself," he said. "I do not have time for broken things."
He walked out.
I sat in his study for a long time after he left.
I looked at the door. The lock. The walls.
Broken things.
That was what my father called me. Defective. Broken. Not worth keeping.
That was what my mother called me with her silence, her absence, her refusal to see me.
That was what my sister called me when she sent me to die in her place.
Broken.
I touched my throat.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe I was broken but I was alive.
And as long as I was alive, Michael's school fees would be paid. My mother would have a home. My sister would be safe.
That was all that mattered.
I stood up. I walked to my room.
- Writer
