Married To The Lawsons

Today, I am an angry girl on a mission. Driving down the chaotic streets of Los Angeles with my foot heavy on the gas and fire burning in my chest. Every stoplight, every red sign, feels like a personal insult. Normally, this should be a fifteen-minute drive from downtown to the estate, but today, it stretches out like a punishment. Each second ticks louder in my head, as if the universe itself is mocking me. Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Dorathy Gates, but you can call me Dora. And today, I just uncovered something that might change my life forever but not in the empowering, soul awakening kind of way. No. This is the type of discovery that makes your stomach twist and your vision blur with rage. I turn the final corner and the estate comes into view, I let out a long, steady breath. The tall, wrought-iron gates open slowly, like the entrance to a damn prison. I pull into the driveway and park right in front of the grand mansion we call home, though most days, it feels more like a museum with trust issues. I don’t bother with the garage or even turning off the car properly. My heels click sharply against the cobblestone as I storm up the wide marble steps leading to the front entrance. Before I can reach for the door, it swings open. The doorman stands there, his face is a mix of surprise and confusion. “Welcome home, ma’am,” he says, trying to mask his shock. It’s understandable, I haven’t been home in five months. “Is my mother in?” I ask, not even trying to mask my irritation. “Oh yes, Madam. She’s upstairs.” He steps aside, and I march in without another word. The cold air of the entryway wraps around me like a ghost. Nothing has changed around here in the past months. The walk in hallway resembles an art gallery with all the paintings perfectly aligned on the walls. The chandelier hanging overhead like a glittering spider, catching the light just enough to be impressive without feeling warm. I take the staircase to the right, each step echoing with determination. Reaching the top, I head straight for her room and knock once before pushing the door open. She’s sitting at her vanity in a green silk robe, dabbing blush onto her already flawless skin. Her face is half-done, like she only got halfway through being someone else today. “Dora?” Her voice is soft but surprised. Her eyes find mine in the mirror. “I wasn’t expecting you today. When did you get back?” I ignore the question. “Ted Lawson, Mom? Tell me it’s not true.” She exhales slowly, setting down the compact with almost theatrical calm. “Of course you found out before I could tell you.” “You can’t possibly be serious, Mom!” I half-shout, my voice louder than I intended. She stands, slowly and gracefully, like this is just another tea party. “I get that you’re surprised and maybe a little upset,” she says with a shrug. “But mind how you speak to me, young lady. Most girls would kill to be in your shoes.” “Well, these shoes are damn tight, and I don’t want them.” I step further into the room. “Besides, I’m not most girls, Mom.” She smiles, and somehow, that infuriates me more than anything she could have said. “You’ll do just fine,” she says coolly. “I’m half his age. Half!” “And?” she replies, raising a perfectly shaped brow. “You have older daughters. Why not Evelyn? Or Frances? Why me?” “Because you’re the one who fits, Dora.” She crosses her arms. “You don’t see it now, but this is the best opportunity I’ve ever handed you. Ted is influential and powerful. You’ll be set for life.” “You mean bought for life.” My voice is cracking now. “I’m twenty-two. I have plans and dreams that don’t include being a wife, especially not to the most arrogant man in the city.” Her expression hardens. “Your father was in debt to the Lawsons. Deeply. And since he’s no longer here to fix it, this marriage is the only way to settle the score.” “That’s not fair,” I whisper, though the fire inside me is anything but quiet. “That’s not my debt.” “But it’s your legacy,” she snaps. “We don’t get to choose our burdens, Dora. We only carry them.” “Oh my God.” She chuckles bitterly. “Cry if you want, but this is happening. And I’m glad we’ve had this little talk. Better to get it out of the way now.” “Mom…” My voice cracks, but I won't let these tears fall. Not in front of her. “Relax. I survived your father. Ted Lawson won’t be any worse and look on the bright side, you’ll basically be royalty.” Royalty? More like a prisoner in a golden cage. It’s not that I hate the Lawsons. I just hate what they represent. Control, expectations and future I didn’t choose. “You can’t just throw this at me like it’s a business proposal.” “I wasn’t planning to,” she says, walking toward the door. “But true to your nature, you had to dig and find out on your own.” “Why not Evelyn or Frances?” I ask again, softer this time. She pauses at the door, turns, and offers a smile that’s far too gentle to be comforting. “Because, Dora my darling, you’re the perfect mix of fire and obedience. Ted likes that. And maybe, just maybe, this is the best gift I could ever give you. You think you’re losing your youth, but look closer, it’s a win-win.” I stand frozen as she leaves the room. “Chances are,” she adds over her shoulder, “he’ll call it off himself. He’s had six failed engagements already. So play along. Frustrate him if you want. But at least this way, our debt is gone.” I don’t reply. I don’t even move. Marriage. What a delightful little topic for a twenty-two year old to be wrestling with. With a heavy sigh, I head down the hall toward the room at the far end. My sisters are probably lounging somewhere, pretending they don’t know anything about this. Evelyn especially, I’m not ready to face her yet. My hand finds the doorknob to my old bedroom and my safe haven. I turn it slowly and step inside. The room greets me like an old friend. Soft lighting, familiar books on the shelf and the faint lavender scent from a candle I forgot to snuff out last summer. Here, for a moment, I can breathe. But even in the silence, Ted Lawson’s name echoes through my head like a curse I can’t shake.