Contract For a Death
1151 Words
Maybe This Was the Wrong Decision
"Confidence? Good. Prove you’re worthy of being mine. Mine don’t run when struck. Mine don’t whimper when scalded. Prove it."
A pot of scalding coffee was poured directly over my head. It was hot, thick, and burning. The liquid ran down my face, stinging my eyes, and dripped from my chin onto my torn shirt. The smell of burnt sugar and bitterness filled my nose. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.
My body was shaking violently, but my legs stayed folded beneath me. I kept my head down because I had no other choice.
"Yes, sir," I whispered through gritted teeth. My voice came out hoarse but steady. "I can assure you with absolute certainty that I deserve this. Even if my body and soul are at stake for my words, I will keep them as a promise."
How dared I say those words to the sharp-eyed man in front of me? The very man who had just poured a full pot of boiling coffee over my head to test me, making my clothes cling to my skin like a second, dirty layer.
"Hm… Hahaha!" He laughed, the deep sound shaking the entire room. Three middle-aged men stood behind him with their arms crossed, watching my pathetic condition with cold, judging eyes. They were waiting for me to break.
I didn’t. I sat on my knees, head down, as the liquid dripped from my hair onto the marble floor. I was tired. So tired of surviving. But I had to pass this test. I had to be accepted as part of the elite workforce in the biggest company in the country.
Because then, Mother could no longer call me useless.
Because then, Eliana and Grandmother could no longer call me a parasite to my face.
Because I was sick of being treated like a maid in my own home.
I wished Nolan would stop forcing me to be his mistress now that he was marrying Eliana.
I wished my stepfather would stop cursing my mother for bringing me into his family.
That was right. I wanted a new life. A life where no one spat at me and called me “the child of a homewrecker.”
I was the daughter of a woman who had caused another woman to die of depression. My mother’s affair had destroyed a family. Now my mother had taken the late mistress’s place, and I had inherited all the hate. I was the most hated person in that wealthy house.
"I’ve got you," the man said, his voice low and laced with amusement.
"Congratulations. You’re now part of our team. Sign the contract below."
An elderly man pushed several sheets of documents toward me. I was still sitting on the floor, wiping my wet hair with a small towel a maid had carelessly thrown at me.
What a coincidence. I was interviewing in a house that looked like a palace. A house I had never dreamed I would step foot in. The floor was so clean I could see my reflection. A reflection that looked completely broken.
"So… this is what an employment contract looks like at a major company?" My voice shook. I touched the gold-embossed cover with trembling fingers. The papers inside were thick and heavy, nothing like the cheap forms I had filled out at other jobs.
"You have a very beautiful face," the old man said suddenly, his eyes scanning me up and down. "Why choose to work for Mr. Amon? It’s a shame, honestly."
My hands froze. I looked up at him. "What do you mean, Sir? Will I become… a s*x slave? A mistress?"
"Oh… no, no!" He waved his hands frantically, relieving my anxiety. "Nothing like that. Mr. Amon is just… extremely strict."
That answer was enough. I had no reason to refuse. This was the only job offer I had gotten after twenty rejections.
Eliana had made sure of that. She called every company I applied to after I graduated from high school. "Don’t hire her. She’s a thief. She’s just like her mother." No one wanted me. Not even as a street sweeper.
Eliana wanted me at home. She wanted me as a maid, obeying her commands and scrubbing her toilets.
"Whatever it is, as long as it’s not prostitution, I’ll do it, Sir!" I signed my name on the last line with a sharp, decisive stroke.
"You don’t love your pretty face, do you?" The old man sighed, a flash of pity in his eyes. "I’m sorry for your future, girl."
"Slapped, grabbed, punched," I said without looking up. "I’ve experienced it all, Sir. I just don’t want to serve predatory men anymore."
I finished the signature. The old man fell silent, looking at me as if I were already dead.
Pity was useless. No one would help me but myself.
"Here’s your signing bonus," he said, holding out a sleek black ATM card between two fingers. "The reward for passing our test. Use it well, young lady."
My eyes burned, and my nose itched. After a lifetime of getting nothing but leftover food and hand-me-down clothes, this was the first time I held money that was entirely mine.
"Really? Thank you, Sir." My voice cracked.
"Stop crying," he said, his tone softening. "From now on, you’ll live in a pile of money. Even though…" He hesitated. "You might be tormented in the future."
He stood up as I took the card. The cold plastic pressed against my palm.
"The password is your date of birth."
"Thank you, Sir!" I didn’t care about the word ‘tormented’. I had been tormented my whole life. My mother hated me because I refused to help her destroy Eliana. My father had died because of my selfish wish that he would never leave my mother.
I wanted to show my first success to my mother. I would buy her a fancy bag and expensive shoes with this bonus.
I didn’t care if the money ran out. Tomorrow, my work would start. Tomorrow, my life would change.
I stepped into a large mall with a light heart, searching for an ATM kiosk. My hands trembled as I pulled the black card from my pocket. I felt proud; this was proof that I was worth something.
"Yes!" I whispered, my eyes sparkling. "Thank you, Lord."
I stopped in front of the ATM and inserted the card. My fingers moved fast, mimicking how I had seen Eliana do it a hundred times while shopping. Check balance. See the money.
The screen flickered, and the numbers appeared.
$2,000,000.00 USD
"Two… two million dollars," I breathed. The words made no sense.
My vision blurred at the edges. My knees buckled, and the world tilted.
My body hit the cold floor with a dull thud. The last thing I saw was the ATM screen flashing that impossible, staggering number.
- Writer
