Episode 4 : The Ultimate Sacrifice
1229 Words
The silence of the night did nothing to calm Vanessa’s tormented mind. Ever since her father’s revelation, every fiber of her being screamed in protest. She had risen from the dinner table like a robot, her heart pounding wildly, her legs barely supporting her. In her room, she paced in circles, unable to sleep, unable even to cry.
An arranged marriage.
To a stranger.
To save the honor of a ruined family.
She could still hear her father's voice, filled with shame and desperation:
“Vanessa… There is no other way. You are our last hope.”
He had spoken those words like a sentence. Or maybe a plea. She no longer knew. What she did know, however, was that this decision shattered everything she had built her life upon.
Her eyes landed on a suitcase tucked in the corner of the room — the one she had been packing for Boston. Waiting for her there were dreams carefully nurtured: a scholarship, a prestigious university, a future as an architect. Everything she had worked so hard for.
She collapsed onto the bed, her hands trembling.
The temptation to refuse was overwhelming. To run away. To say no. To not be sacrificed for mistakes that weren’t hers.
But then she thought of her mother — sick, frail, hospitalized for two weeks now. And she saw again the dying flame in her father’s eyes, that of a man losing everything he had ever built. She was all he had left.
Vanessa had grown up believing family was sacred. Even when it faltered. Even when it hurt. She had learned to honor, to support.
But was she ready to give up everything for that ?
A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.
The next morning, she descended the grand staircase, her face unreadable. Her father sat in the living room, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He looked ten years older than the night before.
She stood silently for a moment. Then, in a voice steadier than she expected, she said:
— “I’ll do it.”
Her father lifted his head, his eyes red from a sleepless night.
— “You… you accept?”
She nodded, her chest tight.
— “I’m doing it for you. For Mom. But I want you to know one thing: I’m not doing this willingly. I’m doing it so our name doesn’t sink any lower in shame. But I don’t forgive you. Not yet.”
He nodded slowly, his expression weighed down with guilt.
— “I understand… Thank you, my daughter.”
But she didn’t want his thanks.
She wanted her freedom.
The contract was finalized in less than a week. Everything had been prepared in advance, as if they’d only been waiting for her approval. A name appeared in the paperwork: Alexandre Delcourt. Vanessa knew nothing about him — only that he was the son of the man who had signed the pact with her father twenty years ago. A wealthy heir, powerful, and — according to several media outlets — feared in the world of business. The name alone sent shivers through economic circles: Delcourt Industries.
The notary gave her barely a few moments to read the terms. Everything was meticulously crafted: no divorce allowed before three years, a confidentiality clause, strict discretion required. In return, her family’s debts would be erased, and a generous sum would cover her mother’s medical expenses.
Vanessa signed. With a cold hand.
Each letter of her name felt like betrayal.
Two days later, she met Élise — an elegant woman with salt-and-pepper hair, Alexandre’s personal assistant. She was brief and formal:
— “Miss Keller, you will be brought to the Delcourt secondary residence this Saturday. The civil ceremony will be held in strict privacy. Mr. Delcourt insists it be quick and devoid of unnecessary celebration. Modest attire. Punctuality is essential. He does not tolerate lateness.”
Vanessa clenched her jaw. No warm welcome. No words of encouragement.
She wasn’t getting married — she was being delivered.
That evening, she allowed herself a phone call to her mother. She didn’t mention the marriage. She simply listened as her mother talked about the treatment, the hospital days, childhood memories. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t cry.
At the end of the call, her mother said softly:
— “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You’ve always been so strong.”
Vanessa hung up, her heart ready to explode.
The night before her departure, she packed in silence. She took one last look at her teenage bedroom. The walls were covered in photos, sketches, model designs. A dream, suspended in time.
She pulled out a blank sheet and wrote a letter. To herself.
To the Vanessa of yesterday.
“You were full of hope. You believed anything was possible.
Today, you're sacrificing yourself. This isn’t giving up.
It’s a choice. But promise me one thing: don’t lose yourself.
Stay alive, even in the golden cage.”
She folded the letter and slipped it into a notebook.
The morning of the wedding, she put on the dress chosen for her: a cream-colored dress, plain, almost austere. No lace. No veil. A dress of obligation.
When she arrived in front of the Delcourt estate, she was struck by the sheer size of the place. A domain with the air of a modern fortress, hidden behind tall stone walls. The gate opened without a word.
Alexandre wasn’t there to greet her.
The ceremony took place in a sunlit lounge with wide bay windows. The only witnesses were a notary, Élise, a lawyer, and one of her father’s old friends.
When he finally entered the room, she held her breath.
Alexandre Delcourt.
Tall, impeccably dressed, features chiseled like a Greek statue, eyes cold as ice. He looked her over without emotion and gave a curt nod.
— “Miss Keller,” he said sharply. “Thank you for being on time.”
No warmth. No courtesy. Just discipline.
They sat down. They signed. One after the other. No vows. No rings.
When the notary declared:
“By this act, you are now legally husband and wife…”
Vanessa felt the floor vanish beneath her feet.
This wasn’t a fairy tale.
It was a transaction.
Alexandre barely extended his hand to her.
— “Come,” he said simply. “It’s time to enter your new life.”
In the car on the way to the main residence, silence weighed heavily. Vanessa kept her eyes on the passing landscape. A light rain was falling. Like an echo of her heart.
At last, Alexandre broke the silence :
— “I suppose I’m not expected to hold your hand.”
She answered plainly:
— “Any more than I expect a kiss.”
He cast her a sidelong glance.
— “Good. Then let’s be clear. This marriage is a formality. An arrangement. You are free to do as you wish, as long as appearances are maintained.”
She nodded, her throat tightening.
— “Fine.”
— “One more thing,” he added. “Don’t get attached to me. It would be a waste of your time.”
She turned to the window.
Too late, she thought. I’ve already lost everything I had.
End of Episode 4
(Transition to Episode 5: Farewell to the Old Life)
- Writer
