CHAPTER 2
1123 Words
Guinevere's POV
I came home as the sky began to lighten, that dull gray-blue that appears before morning decides to be nice or harsh.
My feet hurt. My back ached. My eyelids felt like someone had rubbed pepper into them.
Two jobs did that to you, especially when one took your nights and the other took your mornings. I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor.
Six a.m.
Normal people were waking up.
I was supposed to be sleeping.
I pulled myself up and fell onto the bed without changing. My mattress groaned in sympathy, but sleep didn’t come. It hung just out of reach, almost teasing me.
My eyes drifted to the brown file bag on the small table.
The contract.
I sat up slowly.
I didn’t mean to look at it again. I had already read it too many times...every sentence etched into my mind like a scar. But my hand moved anyway, as if it had a mind of its own.
I pulled the contract out.
Black ink. Clean paper. Cold words.
All existing debts shall be settled in full.
Hospital expenses for the applicant’s brother shall be paid immediately.
In exchange, the applicant agrees to become the lawful wife of the second party.
A stranger.
No picture. No recognizable name. Just a signature already written at the bottom, bold and certain...like whoever he was never doubted his choices.
My phone buzzed on the bed.
My heart jumped before I even picked it up.
A message from the hospital...sent yesterday evening when I was scrubbing floors and pretending not to feel my own exhaustion.
Your outstanding balance has increased. Please arrange payment to avoid complications with your brother’s surgery schedule.
My fingers shook.
Ethan’s surgery.
They had already postponed it once.
I thought of my brother’s smile...the way he tried to joke even when pain lined his face. The way he said, “I’m fine, Gwen,” even when he clearly wasn’t.
I pressed the contract to my chest.
A better life.
Debt erased.
My brother will be saved.
All I had to do was marry someone I had never met.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t pray.
I picked up a pen.
My name looked small next to his signature. Weak. Like it could be wiped away with a careless swipe.
But I wrote it anyway.
Then I picked up the phone and dialed the number at the bottom of the page.
It rang once.
Twice.
“Good morning,” a man’s voice said, calm and smooth. “Have you made your decision?”
“Yes,” I said. My throat felt tight. “I signed.”
“Excellent. We’ll proceed immediately.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
That was it?
No congratulations. No questions. No instructions.
Just done.
I slid the contract back into the file bag, tucked it deep inside my work bag, and lay down again.
This time, sleep came quickly.
Too quickly.
It felt like I had just closed my eyes when sunlight stabbed through the thin curtains and pulled them open. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over my face.
Then I heard it.
Engines.
Not one. Not two.
Several.
I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the window. When I pulled the curtain back, my breath caught.
Three black cars.
Shiny. Expensive.
And a bus.
All parked right outside my small, tired house.
My stomach twisted.
A sharp knock echoed through the room.
I froze.
Another knock.
Louder.
I walked to the door, my legs feeling like they belonged to someone else. When I opened it, a man stood there in a dark suit, his posture stiff and formal.
He was the same man who had given me the contract yesterday.
“Good morning, Madam,” he said.
Madam?
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Please pack your things.”
I stared at him. “What?”
Before I could say anything else, men in black stepped past him and into my house carrying boxes.
“Hey!” I shouted. “You can’t just...”
The man raised his hand slightly, and they stopped.
“My name is Albert,” he said calmly. “I’m in charge of your arrangements.”
“Arrangements for what?”
“For your new life.”
My heart started to race.
“You signed the contract,” he continued. “The terms clearly state that you are to move into your husband’s residence immediately.”
I felt dizzy.
“Married?” I whispered. “I didn’t...there was no ceremony. No...”
“The legal process has already been completed,” Albert said. “You are now Mrs...” He paused. “Your new surname will be revealed when you arrive.”
Revealed?
Like it was a gift?
Or a trap?
Men were already folding my clothes, lifting my small furniture like it meant nothing.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to run.
But then I thought of Ethan.
Of hospital beds and machines and bills I could never pay.
So I stood there.
Silent.
My friend Hyacinth burst in through the back door, breathless. “Gwen, what is going on? There are cars everywhere!”
“They’re taking me,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “Taking you where?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at Albert. “Who are you people?”
Albert gave a polite bow. “We’re here for the new madame of the house.”
Hyacinth turned to me. “Madame?”
I swallowed. “I signed a contract.”
Her face fell. “What kind of contract?”
“The kind that fixes everything… but it costs me everything too.”
She didn’t ask more. She just grabbed my hands. “I’ll help you pack.”
I nodded.
My house didn’t feel like mine anymore. My life didn’t feel like mine anymore.
Boxes swallowed my memories.
Every shirt folded felt like a goodbye.
When we were done, Albert gestured toward the cars. “It’s time.”
Hyacinth hugged me tight. “Text me. Call me. Don’t disappear.”
“I won’t,” I whispered. “I promise.”
But as I stepped into the black car and the door closed behind me with a heavy sound, I realized something terrifying.
I didn’t even know the face of the man I had just
married.
The car moved.
My old life disappeared in the mirror.
And ahead of me…
Was a husband whose name I didn’t know.
A house I had never seen.
And a future I had sold...without knowing what it would cost me next.
- Writer
