The Price of Her Hand

As Ariana Cole made her way through the revolving doors of her building, the freezing wind of November was trying to take her coat off. She held the tote bag tightly with her numbed fingers. After standing the whole night at the gallery reception, her legs were really sore; she had been smiling at the indifferent guests who barely noticed the art, being too busy drinking champagne and gossiping about stock portfolios. Not a single piece had been sold—not hers, not anyone’s. Once again. Ariana stepped into the dilapidated elevator and punched the button to the sixth floor. The wooden elevator buttons were flashing and making a weak humming noise; it seemed like the whole building was as tired as she was. When she entered apartment 6C, the last thing she thought she'd see was her in the armchair by the window. "Elena," said Ariana, standing still in the doorway, with her voice so thin and tired that it was almost breaking. Her stepmother did not lift her gaze from the crystal glass she held. She was swirling the amber fluid in a lazy manner, the tips of her perfectly manicured nails making a soft sound against the glass. “You came late,” Elena said without looking. “The last person I expected to see around was you,” was the reply from Ariana as she put her bag down at the entrance. “Actually, I had wished that I would never cross your path again.” “That’s ungrateful,” said Elena and at the same time she turned, looking as elegant as ever in a camel-colored coat and high heels, however, she seemed to be out of place in the dirty peeling-wall apartment of Ariana. “Bearing in mind that I have brought along the solution to all your problems,” she justified her intrusion. Ariana laughed scornfully and retreated to the kitchenette, taking a bottle of water from the almost empty fridge. “The last time you came with a solution, it put my father’s company in liquidation and my sister in a childhood deprived of love.” A silence followed. Soon after, Elena rose and walked across the room making quiet but purposeful movements. “It is high time that we stopped pretending you can resolve this situation all by yourself.” Ariana pivoted sharply. “What are you talking about fixing?” Elena took a file from her handbag, slammed it on the table, and said: “Take a look!” After a moment of indecision, she opened it. Bank statements. Red numbers. Overdrafts. Notices of eviction. Defaults on credit cards. She kept her eyes on each document, and her heart grew heavier. "This cannot be true," she said softly. "It is all the way it is," Elena replied, sharply. "Your father has left us in ruins. The property is lost. The trust fund is drained. And if we don’t hurry up, your sister will be out of school next week." Ariana couldn’t swallow. “You told me there was enough for Emma. You told me she was safe.” “I told a lie.” The pair of words rose like a blow. Her anger and panic mixed and fought in her. "What reason did you have to lie about this?” “Because,” said Elena, moving closer, thrilled as if, “you had to think everything was under control. And now that it isn't, I have a solution.” They both looked each other in the eye, Ariana with her heart racing and “What are you saying?” was her response. “There’s a man. Dante Valerio.” Ariana was astonished. “The Valerio Corporation?” Elena wore a smile of victory. “The one and the same. He wants a bride. And we fancy what he must—inheritance, social connections, and a name with so much old money luster that it will make the match attractive.” “Are you out of your mind?” “Am I?” Elena answered, peaceful as a snake in the grass. “He is putting forward conditions. A treaty. A merger of families, if you will. In exchange, all liabilities will be cancelled. The place secured. Emma’s future guaranteed.” Ariana did step back. “Are you that serious to sell me off for a billionaire?” “Selling is not the case in here. It means surviving. And don’t pretend that you have not been in this scenario. We are aware that no such thing as marriage is new.” Ariana's voice trembled with emotion. “You are asking for my hand with a total stranger. A man never introduced to me. Just for money.” “Freedom is what you will have instead of what you will give,” Elena tipped the scales. “You are stuck in a job that has no future, the money is not enough for you even. This is a golden way out.” Ariana said firmly, “No.” Elena tilted her head. “Do you think you could manage better all alone? Open your eyes, darling. For two years now, you’ve been pretending to be a starving artist. You are going under. Not even your landlord will get his rent.” “I’ll find a way,” Ariana replied. “I always do.” “This time around, you won’t.” Ariana turned her back, while the pounding of her heart was the only thing she could hear. This isn’t happening— it can’t be. Her life could be so much disorganized but still it was her life. No matter how much money was offered, it would not be worth what Elena was asking of her. She just wouldn’t allow herself to be sold. No, not a second time. Elena, with her back towards Ariana, had already lighted up a cigarette and strolled to the opened window where the smoke was dancing in the air. “He has already made the proposal, Ariana. You have got to wait till the weekend.” “Was this you that gave the green light?” Ariana asked in a whisper, now with a deadly calm. Elena remained silent. Ariana couldn’t believe it and horror was growing in her chest. “You swore me that I would not be pulled into your games again.” “You're too old for that,” Elena replied icily. “Start acting your age. This is how the world really is. Marry the guy. Act your part. Get out richer than your father ever made you.” Ariana’s fists were clenched. “And what if I refuse?” Elena's smile disappeared. "So Emma is out of school. The apartment is gone. And everything that your father was trying to save will also perish with you." No noise. The silence in the room was such that Ariana could still hear her heart beating. “Your heart may wish to give a negative reply,” the snake said, “but that’s not an option.” Ariana gradually turned her face to Elena. Her tone was tender, and barely audible. “I do, though.” Ariana marched towards the door and flung it open. “Leave.” Elena was momentarily uncertain but soon offered a faint, scornful smile. “I trust you will reach out to me once you are ready to face the truth.” With that, she departed into the corridor. Before Ariana could force the door shut, however, Elena stopped and made one more comment: “Tuition for your sister’s school year is already covered by him.” Click. The door was closed. Ariana remained there in disbelief, her breath held back by the shock. She had not informed Elena that the school had called. She had not informed anyone. She had not even informed Emma.