Episode 3 : The Poisoned Pact
1082 Words
The living room was bathed in dim light. The ticking of the wall clock echoed with almost cruel insistence, emphasizing the heavy silence that had just fallen. Vanessa stared at her father, frozen, the words he had just spoken hammering through her mind like thunderclaps.
"Repeat that… What did you just say?" she asked, her voice strangled.
"Vanessa… I’m sorry," her father murmured, eyes downcast. "This marriage… it’s the only way. The only way to save what little we have left."
She stepped back, breath caught, as if the ground had just crumbled beneath her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Barely an hour earlier, she had learned that the family fortune had vanished, their name was in disgrace, and creditors were circling like vultures. And now, this?
"You want to sell me off, is that it ? Like a pawn sacrificed in a losing game?"
Her father’s expression darkened. He stood slowly, his features marked by exhaustion, anxiety, and a nearly tangible guilt.
"I never wanted this. But I have no choice, sweetheart. I’m at the edge of the cliff… we are. And this marriage—it was arranged a long time ago."
Vanessa remained frozen in place. Her father walked over to an old wooden cabinet, opened a hidden compartment, and retrieved a thick folder tied with a leather ribbon. He handed it to her.
"What is this?"
"The contract… signed twenty years ago. With the Delacroix family."
With trembling hands, she opened the folder. Inside were yellowed pages bearing the seals of two powerful families. Her eyes skimmed the terms: Marital union established in the event of sustained economic collaboration... Designation of heirs... Succession agreements…
"You’re kidding me ? You arranged my marriage before I could even walk properly?"
"It was just a symbolic pact at the time," her father protested. "No one thought it would ever be enforced… until I lost everything. And they… they kept their promise."
"They who?"
"Alexandre Delacroix. The heir."
The name hit like a sentence. Vanessa felt a chill run down her spine. She had heard the name—on the news, in whispered phone calls. A young billionaire, cold, brilliant, elusive. The man everyone talked about, but no one really knew.
"He agreed to this ? He actually wants to marry me ?"
"He accepted the contract. Not for love, obviously, but to… settle accounts. To honor his father’s promise."
"A debt of honor ? Is that what I am to him?"
Her father said nothing. And that silence was the worst answer of all.
Night fell over the city, but Vanessa couldn’t sleep. She sat in her room, documents spread out before her. Each line of the contract screamed her own powerlessness. She—so independent, so determined to forge her own path—was now a prisoner of an old agreement, a pawn in a power game between businessmen.
Her life was being rewritten, and she hadn’t even been given a say.
She thought of her plans : the imminent move to London, the scholarship she had just earned, her dreams of studying international relations, her humanitarian commitments. All of it… gone like smoke in the wind.
She could have said no. Refused. Run away. But where would she go ? With what? Her mother, already ill, wouldn’t survive the scandal. Her father looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. And the creditors? They wouldn’t stop until they had taken everything.
She was trapped.
The next morning, she walked slowly down the stairs, like someone in a dream. Her father was waiting in the living room, wearing a suit that now seemed too large for his slumped shoulders.
"Are you going through with it?" he asked bluntly.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"I want to meet this man. Before I make any decision."
"That’ll be difficult. He travels a lot."
"Then I want a call. A video meeting. Something. I won’t sell my soul without seeing the face of the one who’s buying it."
Her father nodded and pulled out his phone, making several nervous calls. By late afternoon, he came back to her.
"Tonight. 9 p.m. He agreed to speak with you. But… he said it’ll be brief. He doesn’t want any ‘complications.’"
Complications. Vanessa clenched her fists. So that’s what he saw her as—a complication.
At exactly 9 p.m., her computer screen lit up with the face of the man she was supposed to call her future husband. She was momentarily speechless.
Alexandre Delacroix was the living embodiment of calculated coldness. Dark suit, sharp features, piercing eyes. He didn’t smile. Not even a twitch of the lips.
"Miss Costa," he said in a deep, neutral voice.
"Vanessa," she corrected, locking eyes with him.
"Very well, Vanessa."
He paused, then added:
"I assume your father has explained the terms of the agreement."
"He told me about this nonsense, yes."
"It’s not nonsense," he replied calmly. "It’s a solution. You gain stability. I gain peace of mind. A clear arrangement. No attachments, no illusions."
"And you think I’ll just accept this without flinching? Without saying a word?"
"You have a choice. But if you refuse, the consequences for your family will be… painful. I’m a businessman, Vanessa. Not a butcher. But I don’t allow emotions to interfere with what I do."
She held his gaze. And for the first time, she saw—just for a fraction of a second—a c***k. An emptiness behind the mask.
"You’re just as unhappy as I am," she said softly.
He narrowed his eyes, as if the words had struck a nerve.
"Happiness is a luxury, Miss Costa. A luxury few can afford. And we are not among the few."
He ended the call without another word.
Vanessa sat staring at the black screen. Every part of her screamed in revolt. But deep down, she already knew what she would do. Not for herself. Not even for her father. But for her bedridden mother, who had given up everything to raise a daughter who would be free, educated, and strong. To preserve what remained of their name. Their dignity.
She would accept.
But not as a victim.
As a woman aware. Determined. She would walk through this storm with her head held high.
And if she had to marry a man made of ice… then she would learn how not to burn when she got too close.
End of Episode 3 : The Poisoned Pact
- Writer
