My Sister's Betrothed Chose Me

Decision

CHAPTER 03

Anastasia Shinoara’s POV

Three days.

Seventy-two freaking hours!

That’s all it took for my life to fall apart like the chocolate egg I had gotten for Anthony.

Three days ago, I was just a girl with nothing to worry about but a secret and a heartbeat that wasn’t mine growing inside me.

Now I was a confused girl.

A girl with a broken heart and a decision too heavy for her trembling hands.

It was just crazy how I went from a nobody—a girl with a chaotic, quiet life—to the one on everyone's lips.

Rowan's wanted bride.

The girl who stole her sister's betrothed, as if I was the one who had jumped into his arms and screamed at him to pick me.

What did he even see in me?

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall like it owed me answers to the millions of questions in my heart.

My phone buzzed again.

I didn’t check.

I already knew what I would see.

But I couldn't help it; my fingers clicked on the numbers—unlocking my phone and I was right.

Catherine had sent another voice note.

The last one was just her crying, and this one was probably more of the same. Or worse.

I couldn’t listen.

Not yet.

Not when my chest still ached from the sound of Anthony’s laughter with those girls—the same girls he had fought with because they found pleasure in bullying me.

Not when my mother’s voice still echoed in my head like a curse.

Abort it.

And then Rowan's voice came too, echoing like a voice in the desert.

“Anastasia Shinoara.”

I pressed my palms to my ears.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Just stop.”

But the voices didn’t stop.

They never did.

Oh good lord, I freaking needed a break from my room before I went crazy.

I winced as the cold of the freezing tiles shot through my feet.

I put on my bunny shoes and walked outside my room, then down the stairs.

Downstairs, the house was buzzing.

I heard the clink of teacups, the low murmur of voices, and the occasional sharp tone of my mother’s disapproval.

I needed no one to tell me that they—my parents were having a meeting with the DeVilles.

The sitting room doors were cracked open.

Stop Asia, just go to your room.

But I couldn't control myself; before I knew it, I was crouched by the hallway wall with my heart pounding.

“…we’ve spoken to him,” Mr. DeVille was saying.

“Repeatedly. But he won’t change his mind. He keeps saying the same thing—he wants Anastasia Shinoara or no other.”

“He’s being irrational,” my mother snapped. “Asia is not ready for this. She’s not Catherine; she's not the one we've prepared all her life. Asia is good for nothing, but Catherine has a queen's education.”

“She’s not even interested,” my father added. “She ran out of the ballroom like a madwoman.”

Even though they were brutally right, their words still stung somewhere in my heart.

“Exactly what I brought up; she's got no manners, but he doesn't care,” Mrs. DeVille said flatly.

I grabbed the hem of my dress, fighting the urge to go in there and slap that plastic-surgery-ridiculed face of hers, but I couldn't.

I dared not.

“Really?”

“My son doesn't care about most things.”

Of course, he didn’t care.

Even his mere physical appearance screamed how much Rowan DeVille didn’t do feelings.

He looked like someone who just wanted control and power. A very cold man at business.

And I was just the latest thing he wanted to possess.

Okay, I thought I had heard enough.

I backed away with my heart racing and ran up the stairs before they could hear me.

I almost turned into stone when I found Catherine sitting on my bed.

Her eyes were swollen; her arms were crossed like a shield.

“You ruined everything,” she said.

I didn’t answer.

“You knew he was mine.”

“I didn’t choose him” I shot back at her, anger rising over the sympathy I had.

“But you didn’t say no.”

“Of course I couldn't, but I ran, Cath. I couldn't say a word because I panicked.”

“You always panic,” she spat. “And yet somehow, you always end up with everything.”

I blinked. “Everything? Are you being serious right now? Between you and me, who has gotten everything? It's you, of course—the perfect, good-mannered daughter with the queen's education.” I rolled my eyes.

“And now, who has what I've spent all my life working for? It's you! You have him. You have the attention. Maybe you shouldn't have shown your face after all.”

“Get out of my room, Catherine.” I pointed at the door, too tired to give her a reply or even argue back.

“Of course, I'll leave your stinky room.”

“I love it stinky. After all, the one with the stinky room is the chosen one.” Her mouth fell open at my words.

I never meant it that way, but it worked.

She shoved past me and slammed the door behind her.

At last, I was back to being with myself again.

I sank to the floor, shaking.

What was going to happen next?

What did I want? What would I do next?

Later that night, my mother sent a maid to call me.

Her room was dimly lit, the golden chandelier casting long shadows on the walls.

My mother sat at the edge of her bed in her glossy blue nightwear.

No one was there with us.

Just she and I.

There was a folder on the table in the center.

A clinic brochure.

I didn’t sit; I was too furious to.

I knew what was there.

I knew what she wanted to talk about.

“I've made the appointment,” she said.

I stared at her. “You didn’t even ask me.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I do,” I said quietly. “I always have a choice.”

“Asia, please. Just let's do this. You will later thank me for this. This is for your protection.”

“For your reputation,” I corrected. “And also, thank you for what? For killing the first child I'd ever carry?” My voice shook more than intended at the last sentence.

Will I ever be able to do this?

I suddenly felt a motherly bond I'd never felt before with the baby wrap around me.

“It's for your future,” my mother said. “You think Anthony is the man for you? Or do you want a fatherless child? Do you even know what the DeVilles will do to us if we do not fulfill our part of the promise?”

“What will they do?”

“They will take all we have,” Mother said.

“And you think that's enough reason to abort my baby?”

“Of course it's more than enough,” Mother replied, as if we were talking about a designer dress.

“We are talking about a life here!” I half yelled.

“And I'm also talking about your life. Ours too. Think about it: we keep the baby, we tell the DeVilles to go to hell, they file a lawsuit against us for breaching an agreement. 80% of our wealth goes away. We disown you, you and your fatherless child suffer on the streets—is that what you want?”

I bit my lips, unable to give her a reply.

I hated how her words hit me in the wrong place.

I knew what she was doing.

I knew where she was going.

“Remember, the same happened to your biological mother before she died. Her boyfriend was irresponsible; she had to suffer before we found you. You are…”

“God, just stop. f*****g stop and let me think!” I yelled, sitting on the cold floor.

I knew she was going to use that against me.

I thought back to Anthony, laughing with other girls.

Would he ever take responsibility for the child if I got disowned?

I couldn't let this child suffer like I did in my earlier life.

I would rather die than have any of my kids suffer or end up on the street with no father like I did.

But I didn’t want to do it.

I didn't want to end a life that hadn't even started.

But I didn’t want to bring a child into this mess either.

Not like this.

Not alone.

I picked up the folder. “I’ll go,” I said.

My mother exhaled.

“But not because you told me to,” I added. “Because I can’t give this baby what it deserves. Not now. Not like this.”

I turned and walked away before she could say anything else.

In my room, I curled up on the bed,I flung the folder against the wall as if it had wronged me.

I thought I would cry, but no tears came.

I just stared at the ceiling.

Do I really want to do this?