Chapter Two
1064 Words
Amelia’s POV
I sat frozen, staring at the two messages glowing on my screen.
“You will regret this, Melly .” That was from Maxwell.
“Stop disturbing me with your calls. Enjoy your hellish marriage, dummy.” That was from my sister.
I let out a bitter laugh. Yes, I was a dummy. She wasn’t wrong. My entire life had turned into one big, pathetic joke.
The clothes on my back weren’t even mine. They were Cynthia’s, the ones she claimed she didn’t like anymore. I had thought I was being considerate by accepting them, trying not to waste Father’s money. But now I realized the truth. I wasn’t considerate. I was just a fool.
I chuckled at my own stupidity, the sound hollow in my chest.
Dragging myself to the wardrobe, I pulled it open. Lying there was the wedding dress. White, elegant, shimmering under the light. The kind of dress any girl would dream of wearing. But not me. To me, it looked like rags. If it had been Maxwell waiting for me at the altar, maybe it would have been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But now, it was nothing more than a costume for my execution.
For a fleeting second, I imagined ripping it to shreds with my bare hands. But the image of the Mafia boss, flashed in my mind.
If I destroyed the dress, he wouldn’t just tear me apart he would tear my family apart too.
A presence in the room startled me. I turned and found Mother standing at the door.
We locked eyes for a long moment. No words, just silence heavy enough to suffocate me. Finally, she spoke.
“Do you want to try the dress?” she asked quietly.
I shook my head.
“Come on, Melie,” she coaxed, forcing a smile. “That’s what brides do before their big day.”
Her voice was soft, but it made my skin crawl.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Mum. But I won’t.”
It was the first time I had ever openly disagreed with her. The shock on her face was clear, like she didn’t even recognize me. But I didn’t care anymore.
I had already made my greatest sacrifice, risking my life so they could all keep theirs. This would be my last.
She lingered a moment longer, then left without another word. Strangely, I felt no remorse. Nor guilt.
I slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My mind, as always, drifted back to Maxwell. His smile, his warmth, his promises. I shook my head violently, as if I could fling his memory out of me. But it clung tighter.
I tried to think of anything else, anyone else, but nothing worked. Nothing could replace him.
A memory flashed through my mind, one I had tried so hard to bury.
The morning I lost the eight hundred dollars Father gave me for my tuition. I thought my life was over. I knew he would never give me another cent, not even if it meant I’d drop out. I cried myself to sleep for days, refusing food, consumed by hopelessness.
And then Maxwell appeared at my hostel door. He handed me an envelope, his eyes full of quiet determination. I tore it open and froze. A cheque for a thousand dollars. My breath caught, my eyes widened. Maxwell was a student too. His parents weren’t wealthy, far from it. They would never hand him such money.
“How did you get this, baby?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“Don’t worry, my love. Go pay before it’s too late,” he replied softly.
“You know I won’t touch it if you don’t tell me, sugar,” I insisted. He knew me well enough to realize I wouldn’t back down. With a sigh, he finally confessed.
“I sold my laptop, babe.”
The tears had come instantly, hot and relentless. I threw my arms around him, thanking him, swearing through sobs that I would never, ever leave him.
A single tear sliding down my cheek pulled me back to the present. The promise I made then felt like another chain breaking inside me.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, pulled the blanket over my head, and forced myself to sleep, since it seemed like the only escape from this chaos right now.
Morning came too quickly. As if it was in a haste to remind me that today was the D-day. The day I dreaded most.
I dragged myself out of bed, every movement heavy with reluctance, and shuffled into the bathroom. I had barely finished relieving myself when a sharp knock sounded on my door. My stomach clenched.
Of course. They were here. The preparations had begun.
The knock came again, firmer this time, followed by my Mother’s voice. “Amelia, hurry up. We don’t have all day.” I ignored mum and took my bath. Just because I wasn’t happy about it didn’t mean I wouldn’t clean up.
Back in my room, I froze. The makeup artists were already there, Mum too.
“Y’all couldn’t wait downstairs?” I asked, irritation dripping from my voice.
“No time for questions, baby. Time is no longer on our side,” Mum said firmly.
I bit back a reply, sat down, and let them work. They styled my hair, brushed powders and colors across my face until I barely recognized the reflection staring back at me. When I slipped into the gown, my heart skipped. God… I looked like a fallen angel.
We went downstairs, and the stares that followed me were filled with admiration. I was supposed to smile, supposed to bask in the attention, but instead, all I wanted was to punch every last one of them.
On the way to the courthouse, Dad tried to soften me up.
“Amy, please… do this for me. I know you aren’t happy about it.”
I only nodded, and he stopped talking.
At the courthouse, there he was. Tall and Dangerous. That sharp jawline that could cut glass. His green eyes locked on mine. My stomach knotted.
Then my phone buzzed. My chest tightened as I pulled it out, expecting congratulations. Instead, an unknown number flashed across the screen.
“If you marry him, you are marrying your doom.”
- Writer
