A deal with my fiancé’s uncle

I shouted at the top of my voice, storming to my room, "This is just absurd! I'm not six anymore, Dad! You don't have to keep drumming into my ears that I need to behave. It's my engagement party for crying out loud!" I rolled my eyes; exasperation pouring out with every word. That was the hundredth time in two days that he had lectured me. He knew I was stubborn, but now I was much more than that—I was furious. Who chooses a husband for a grown woman in the 21st century? It was all such nonsense. The entire family had acted from the beginning as though they were doing me a favor by marrying me to Carlos Rodriguez. I'm a charity case. They knew I wasn't the one supposed to be marrying him. And yet here we were pretending this was the grand solution to all our problems. "Lana, you need to listen," my father's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. I looked up, jolting out of my brooding session to find that I was sitting in another family meeting. They were all here: my father, my stepmother Rosita, and my stepsister Sabrina, all of their faces a blend of concern and satisfaction, depending on who you looked at. "Oh, for crying out loud," I muttered to no one in particular. "This is too much. I'm the pigheaded one? The one who needs a good talking-to?" I shot a look to my right at Sabrina, who was sitting over there all full of herself, with her lips curled up in a very self-satisfied smirk on her face. She was relishing the show. "If only Mom were here," I whispered, feeling my chest tighten at the thought. She would have understood my side of things. She wouldn't have done this to me. My eyes teared up, but I just wouldn't let the drops go. I just sat there, staring at my father as he and Rosita rattled off the thousand and one reasons why I was supposed to love Carlos and be a dutiful, submissive wife. "You've shamed me enough," my father said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in that superior manner that always made me feel like screaming. "The last time was in your final year of college. I couldn't walk down the street without bowing my head in shame." Rosita agreed with determination; her eyes gave an impression of steel. To her, I was beyond redemption, the family's black sheep. The feeling was mutual. I didn't give a darn what she thought. "If anything goes awry at your engagement party, say goodbye to my last name. You will never be my daughter again." Dad's voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. I sneered, anger bubbling just beneath the surface, but I stifled it as usual. I waited for this ridiculous conference to end so I could go back to my life, however temporary, for a few hours. "If only you could try to be like your sister, Sabrina," Dad continued, the spite pouring from his words like venom. "My blood pressure would not soar so high." I clenched my fists under the table, tightening my jaw. I hated the comparisons; they were not only aggravating but unfair. They would always find a way to compare me to Sabrina, and that always made me internally angry, deeply so. "Don't call me stubborn," I shot back, in a voice laden with defiance. Rosita's eyes widened, just a fraction. "This is exactly what we're talking about, Lana. Disrespectful and just as sassy as your mother." That was the last straw. I leaped to my feet and fists clenched, my knuckles all white. I had so many comebacks in my head, but her words had touched a deeper chord than I was ready to concede. Again, she reminded me of the painful absence of my mother. "Sit down, Lana!" Dad bellowed. "I'm done with this stupid meeting," I barked and stormed out of the room. The fresh air hit me like a slap in the face as I came out and almost ran into Simeon, our butler. Except for my mom, Simeon was the only one who got me. "I need to go for a ride," I said, my voice shaking from restrained fury. "But you've got to—" "Just get me my bike, okay?" I interrupted immediately, not wanting to hear. Within minutes, Simeon had my motorcycle ready, the one thing I valued most in life, my escape route from reality, hidden in the garage. Not another word. At breakneck, I raced from the compound, the roar of a p********e's engine drowned the confusion in my head. I damn them and their stupid meeting. I was going to do what I loved most. There it was: Horizon Bank, full of customers, full of cash, although new-built. That could only mean one thing: more money. I slipped inside, joining the crowd. I waited for a suitable moment, bided my time, and then it was there. From an unsuspecting man's hands into my own, I quickly snatched a briefcase and ran away. Then chaos broke out in the bank post-me. I could hear the shouts, the alarms, but I didn't care. I was laughing a wild, wild laugh, manic, as I sped away. I knew the police had been alerted, but that didn't bother me. If anything, the surge of adrenaline made me feel in control of my life for once. As I rode, I snapped the locks on the briefcase, letting the crisp notes fly in the wind. I could see people stopping down to pick up the money, their faces lighting up with hope. These were people to whom I thought nobody could give hope, and the best I could do was to make them smile for a little longer. It gave me some dark sort of contentment to see that. The police were hot on my trail, but I was smarter. This wasn't my first time, and I knew how to lose them. I took a sharp turn onto an alleyway sandwiched between two buildings, tricking the cops and re-emerging onto a busy street filled with cars. Looking back to confirm I’d lost the cops, I did not notice a Bentley coming from the opposite direction. So I revved my bike, narrowly missing the car, my tires screeching in protest. My helmet flew off my head in the process, skidding across the road. I looked back at it before turning my face back ahead of me. I couldn’t stop now. If I did, I might get caught. It was just a helmet, after all. I could have another one made in no time. Then my heart dropped. My initials were on that helmet, and now he knew what I looked like. Trouble. I was in big trouble.