THE BETROTHED

The Unwanted Arrangement BEVERLY I hissed and buried my head in the pillow, but it offered no solace. Desperate, I grabbed a second pillow and pressed it against the first, attempting to shield my ears from the relentless racket emanating from my door—but it was futile. I sank onto the bed, groaning, clutching the pillows like armor. “Arggh! Emma, can you please stop?” I shouted as the cacophony of her guitar grew unbearable. It had become her daily ritual: torment me at the crack of dawn. She had no other method of waking me but to assault my eardrums and ruin my sleep. “Wake up already, Xaxa!” she chirped with laughter. “Just vanish before I reach the door, or else…” I threatened. “I love you too, sis! See you at breakfast. Don’t forget Mum and Dad will be waiting!” she sang, her footsteps fading down the corridor. I groaned, pushing myself upright. Yawning dramatically, I made my way to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and prepared for my bath. Admittedly, I take my sweet time in there. I savor the moment I step into the bathtub, letting the warm water cascade over me. That’s when my mind wanders—often to absurd, unnecessary thoughts. Ah, yes, introductions. I’m Beverly Salvador, eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Salvador. My father is a billionaire, my mother a formidable businesswoman. Some might say I was born with a silver spoon—but spoiled? Never. Despite their wealth, my parents raised us with values and discipline. I have two siblings: Jeffrey and Emma. Jeffrey, 28, is married to the love of his life, Annabel, and they have a daughter, Ava. Though wealthy enough to establish his own household, Dad insisted he remain under our roof. I am 25, and Emma is 20. My confidantes are Jenna and Jane—twins and my closest friends. Romance? Ha! I am grievously unlucky in matters of the heart. Two exes, two identical complaints—but that tale is for another day. Emerging from the bathroom, I entered my closet and selected a comfortable outfit. I may not be a supermodel, but I am voluptuous. My friends often tease me about my “killer shape,” and honestly? They aren’t wrong. I avoid overly form-fitting dresses to escape excessive attention. With my hair tied into a neat bun, I descended the stairs. The kitchen was alive with my family already gathered around the breakfast table. They were waiting—predictably—while I made my fashionably late entrance. “Good morning, everyone,” I greeted, pulling out a chair. “I’ve told you countless times to set your alarm, Beverly. Must you be late to every single function in the universe?” Dad barked. “Dad! At least respond to my greeting first,” I grumbled. “Well… how was your night?” He softened slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, Dad.” “And you slept well, honey?” Mum inquired. “Yes,” I replied. “Can we just eat already?” Jeffrey groaned, earning a playful nudge from Annabel. “Chill, bro,” Emma laughed, earning a glare from him. The maids served our breakfast promptly. My favorite Indian delicacy, paratha, glistened on my plate. “Beverly, come to the study after breakfast,” Dad instructed. My head snapped toward them. Whenever they summoned me to their room, it usually spelled trouble. Jeffrey caught my gaze and offered a sympathetic smile. “Okay, Dad,” I replied, though my mind churned. “Beverly!” Dad called. Mum avoided my gaze entirely, bowing her head. “You know your mother and I love you immensely,” he began. “I know, Dad.” “Beverly, promise you won’t be angry with us?” Angry? Why would I be angry at my parents? “I won’t, Dad. What’s the problem? You’re scaring me.” “I’ve always dreamed of the day you’d bring a man home to call your husband. I once promised never to choose a spouse for my daughters—but circumstances have changed.” “I have a business agreement with Mr. Kingsberg. Before proceeding, he made a… request.” “It’s crucial for our company’s growth. Can you grant us this one favor, Beverly?” What… favor? “He wants you to… marry his son, Audrey.” A thunderclap echoed in my mind. Audrey? Marry him? How could they suggest such a thing? I can barely tolerate a minute in his presence. We have clashed since day one. Marrying Audrey Kingsberg, the infuriatingly handsome devil? Impossible. We would surely destroy each other. I would never submit to him. No. I cannot marry him. AUDREY Smoke curled from my mouth and nostrils as I lit my cigarette in the car. I loathe when someone crosses me—and today, an i***t dared. I used him as a scapegoat, a lesson for the world. The authorities? Powerless. People ought to maintain a safe distance from me. I am lethal—and I revel in it. I felt invincible, a king in a kingdom of fear. My phone beeped. Caller ID: Dad. I sighed and ignored it. What now? I had already conceded to marry a woman far beyond my natural inclination—for a contract. That was the extent of my compliance. I obey no one. Fear me or suffer consequences. I am Audrey Kingsberg—handsome, ruthless, untouchable. Blood flows like water to me. Annoy me, and you will meet a fate worse than death. I parked and got out of my vehicle. Two women collided with me, staining my expensive attire. How dare they? “We… we are so sorry, sir,” they pleaded. A dark smile twisted my lips. Perfect… playthings. I seized them by their hair, dragging them to a secluded spot. Pain and fear danced in their eyes, but did I care? No. The only person capable of softening me is my mother. “P… please forgive us, sir. We are truly sorry,” they whimpered. “Say that to the devil when you meet him in hell,” I replied, pinning them to the ground. Escape? Impossible. I desired to exploit their fear, to remind them that crossing me carries consequences beyond imagination. I am Audrey Kingsberg— the king of my own inferno.