Contracted for a lifetime

# Fiona's Point of View Three years ago today, I lost my mother in a car crash, and ever since then I've been blamed and constantly reminded that I should have been the one to die. The dad I knew as loving, the one who cared about his only daughter, became the worst version of himself around me. Who would have guessed that the almighty Russo Sinclair was having an affair? He brought home a woman a month after my mom passed, claiming she was my stepmother. My life has been a living hell ever since. Maya brought her daughter Paige to stay with us, and my dad clearly favors them over me. It's always one issue after another, and I've always been the villain in it. I had just left my mom's grave after visiting for her anniversary when I got home to find Maya, my stepmom, throwing yet another tantrum. "Why did you leave the plates in the kitchen unwashed before you left the house this morning?" Maya asked, her nose flaring, clearly angry. "We've got a maid for that. If it bothers you, go clean it yourself," I replied bluntly. I refuse to be a stepping stone for the mother daughter duo. I won't be their pushover. Never. "Some nerve you've got, talking back to my mom like that," Paige, my stepsister, said. "Soon you'll be gone from our lives and we won't have to listen to your whining anymore," she added, smirking. "You're a spoiled child and I've had enough of you. I found you a suitor to wed. You're growing old," Maya declared, and I was stunned. "Who the hell do you think you are, deciding who I marry and how old I'm growing? It's none of your business, witch," I said, and spat in her face before turning to leave. Pa! That was the sound of Maya's palm connecting with my cheek. She slapped me. I didn't even wait a second before I slapped her back. "You dare slap my mother!" Paige shouted like an angry bird, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I may be blunt and fearless, but I don't know how to fight. I'm weak in that way, though not too weak to fight my way free. "Are you mad? Let go of my hair!" I winced. "Not until you apologize to my mom," she said. "Over my dead body," I spat. She tightened her grip, and I saw Maya coming closer. She slapped me again, twice, hard enough that my lip split. "Next time, learn to respect your elders. Paige, let her go. She's not worth our time," Maya said, and Paige finally released my hair before storming out of the room. I collapsed on the couch crying. I try so hard to look fierce, but I'm not. I'm tired of living. I hate that my mother saved me instead of saving herself. I knew, lying there, that I'd be happier dead than stuck coming home to this. I must have dozed off from all the crying, because it was my dad's voice that woke me. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, his eyes cold on me. "I fell asleep," I said. "This is the living room, not your bedroom." "My mistake. I'm sorry," I said, feeling hollow. "Darling!" Maya's voice rang out as she rushed to greet him. "How are you, my love?" he asked, all warmth. "I'm not fine. This little witch slapped me, all because I suggested she get married. She's getting old," Maya said, faking tears. "What? Why would you slap your mother?" he asked, flaring up. "She slapped me first. And she's not my mother," I said, rolling my eyes. "See how she rolls her eyes at you? She's spoiled. She needs to be married off as soon as possible," Maya added. "It's not up to you whether I get married or not," I said. "Apologize to your mother," my dad said. "I won't. She slapped me first." Pa! My dad slapped me. For her. Tears burned in my eyes and something in me cracked. "You don't disrespect your elders, let alone slap them," he warned, then turned to Maya. "Find her a suitor before the month ends. I'm tired of her shenanigans." Then he walked to his room. "Sorry, not sorry," Maya smirked, following him, and I stormed out of the house. I really hate them. I wish they'd die. I kept walking in the rain, trying to get as far from them as I could, until I didn't know how far I'd gone and finally stopped to rest. "Hello there." A dark silhouette appeared in front of me. It was too dark to see clearly. "Can I help you?" I asked, not wanting to talk. "I'm Valentin. Valentin Hayes," he said. "So? What am I supposed to do with your name? Wait..." The name clicked. Valentin Hayes, one of the wealthiest young men in the world. Why was he here, talking to me? "What do you want with me? And how can I even believe you are who you say you are?" It was only fair to be cautious. Valentin isn't a social person. Hardly anyone knows what he looks like. His wealth speaks for him. "It's up to you to believe me. But I have what you want. If you're interested, come to Hayes Corporation at two tomorrow," he said, handing me a set of dry clothes, then left before I could say a word. I was too stunned to speak, watching his black car swerve off. I looked down at the dry clothes he'd left me and realized my own dress was soaked through. He'd left me an umbrella too. Now why would the wealthiest man in the city be interested in me?