CAMILITA

Chapter 4: The Promise

Camilita stared at her father.

"What promise did you make to him?"

Richard didn't answer.

His face had lost its color, and the hand resting against the armchair tightened into a fist. For the first time in her life, Camilita saw something in her father's eyes that frightened her more than his anger.

Fear.

" Dad," she whispered. "What is he talking about?"

"That's enough," Richard snapped. "Mr. Hayes has said more than he needed to."

Alexander remained seated, watching the exchange with an unsettling calmness.

"Your daughter deserves to know the truth."

"The truth?" Richard let out a bitter laugh. "You want to talk about the truth now?"

"I believe it's time."

Margaret appeared in the doorway, drawn by the rising voices. When she noticed the three of them gathered in the living room, she stopped.

"What is happening?"

Camilita turned toward her mother.

"Apparently, Dad made a promise to Mr. Hayes months ago. Do you know anything about it?"

Margaret's face changed.

That tiny reaction was enough.

"You knew too," Camilita whispered.

Her mother looked down.

Something inside Camilita seemed to break a little further.

"Everybody knew except me."

"Camilita, please," Margaret began.

"No. Don't tell me to calm down. Don't tell me this is for my own good. Just tell me the truth!"

Richard stood.

"Watch your tone."

"Why? Because I'm asking questions you don't want to answer?"

He took a step toward her, but Alexander's voice interrupted him.

"Richard."

It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

Richard stopped and turned toward the man who had entered their home carrying promises of money and a future Camilita had never requested.

Alexander opened his briefcase and removed a folded document.

"Several months ago, your father approached me through a business acquaintance," he explained. "He was desperate for financial assistance. His debts had become difficult to manage, and he was afraid of losing this house."

Camilita looked at her father.

"Is that true?"

Richard said nothing.

Alexander continued.

"He asked me for a substantial loan. I refused because I had no business reason to lend him that amount of money. But during our conversation, he mentioned that he had a daughter approaching adulthood."

Camilita felt sick.

"Why would you tell him about me?"

Richard rubbed his forehead.

"I was trying to find a solution."

"By talking about your daughter like I was something you could offer?"

"I never said that!"

"Then what did you say?"

Richard opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Alexander placed the document on the coffee table.

"Your father suggested that a marriage between us could be arranged when you turned seventeen. In exchange, I would settle certain debts and provide financial support to your family."

The room became painfully quiet.

Camilita stared at the paper.

She couldn't make herself touch it.

"So you planned this before you even spoke to me?"

"Your father initiated the conversation," Alexander replied.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No," he admitted. "It doesn't."

For a moment, Camilita was surprised by his honesty. She had expected him to deny everything or dress the arrangement in pretty words.

Instead, he sat there as if they were discussing a business contract.

"Why me?" she asked.

Alexander studied her.

"Your father spoke highly of you."

A disbelieving laugh escaped her.

"He sold me to you because he thought I was a good daughter?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you're telling me!"

"Camilita," Margaret pleaded.

Camilita turned on her.

"Did you agree to this months ago, too?"

Margaret's eyes filled with tears.

"Your father told me that if we didn't find help, we would lose everything. He said this might be our only chance."

"And you believed him?"

"I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have said no!"

Margaret began crying.

Camilita looked away. She couldn't bear the sight of her mother's tears because some part of her still wanted to comfort her.

But another part wanted to scream.

She had spent years trying to be the daughter her parents needed. She had never complained when she wore secondhand clothes or went without things other teenagers had. She had helped her mother clean houses for extra money and stayed quiet when her father returned home angry.

She had thought that if she was patient enough, things would eventually get better.

She had never imagined that her patience would be rewarded with betrayal.

"How much?" she asked.

Richard frowned.

"What?"

"How much money did he promise you?"

"Camilita, that's not important."

"How much?"

Alexander answered before Richard could.

"The arrangement involved settling your family's outstanding debts and providing enough money for them to establish a more stable life."

She looked at him.

"You're avoiding the question, too."

"I am not prepared to discuss every financial detail with you today."

"Of course not."

Camilita stood and walked toward the window. The street outside looked exactly as it had yesterday: cracked sidewalks, aging houses, and a neighbor struggling to start an old car.

Nothing had changed.

Yet everything felt different.

She turned back.

"If I refuse, what happens?"

Richard's expression hardened.

"You will not refuse."

"I'm asking Mr. Hayes."

Alexander took a moment before answering.

"Your father will remain responsible for his debts. I will not provide the financial assistance we've discussed if the marriage does not proceed."

"So my family loses the money, and I'm the one who has to live with the consequences."

"That is one way to describe it."

"Is there another?"

Alexander didn't answer.

Camilita shook her head.

"You keep talking about arrangements and promises as though I'm not a person. I'm right here. I'm standing in front of you, and none of you seems to care what I want."

For once, Richard didn't shout.

Perhaps he had finally understood that anger could not make the words disappear.

Alexander rose and buttoned his jacket.

"I think we've accomplished enough for today."

He collected his briefcase, leaving the folded document on the table.

Before walking toward the door, he looked at Camilita.

"I suggest you read the document. There are details your father hasn't explained."

Then he left.

Richard followed him outside, closing the door behind them.

Margaret approached her daughter.

"Sweetheart—"

"Please don't."

"Let me explain."

Camilita turned, her eyes burning.

"I don't want another explanation. I want my life back."

Her mother covered her mouth.

Camilita picked up the document from the table. Her hands trembled as she unfolded it.

Most of the pages contained formal language and financial terms she barely understood. But one paragraph caught her attention.

It referred to a payment made to settle an urgent debt months earlier.

Below it was a date.

Camilita read it twice.

Then she remembered.

That had been the week her father came home smiling for the first time in months. He had bought groceries, repaired the broken heater, and brought her mother a new coat.

She had thought something wonderful had happened.

Now she understood that the money had come with a price.

Her eyes moved to the signature at the bottom of the page.

Richard Johnson.

Beneath his name was another signature, followed by a handwritten note.

Additional terms to be discussed privately with Mr. Hayes.

Camilita's heart began to race.

What additional terms?

She turned the page, searching for more information, but the next sheet was missing.

"Mom," she said slowly. "Where is the rest of this document?"

Margaret stared at the paper.

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not!"

Camilita studied her mother's face, trying to decide whether to believe her.

Then she noticed something else.

The document had been folded around a small, separate piece of paper. It must have slipped from between the pages when Alexander placed it on the table.

She picked it up.

There was only one sentence written on it, in handwriting she didn't recognize.

The girl must never learn what happened that night.

Camilita read the sentence again.

"What night?" she whispered.

Behind her, Margaret suddenly stopped crying.

And when Camilita turned to look at her, her mother was staring at the note as though she had just seen a ghost.