HER INNOCENCE

7🪶 THE DEAL

"You can't scheme your way back into a predator's favor once he knows of what you did. Solomon didn't look at you because, to him, you don't exist. You are a bug on his windshield. If you show up at his gates tonight with your cheap lies, he won't listen to you. He will have his staff dismantle our remaining oil companies by sunrise just to clear the clutter from his yard." Arthur's voice was completely flat and empty of anger. He sounded terrifyingly calm, like an accountant writing off a total loss.

He slowly let go of her wrist, tossing the casino markers onto a passing waiter’s silver tray without a second thought. The chips clattered, then there is a hollow mocking sound.

"The contract is out of our hands," Arthur murmured, adjusting the lapels of his heavy wool coat, his face hardening back into its stone mask.

"Sarah has Solomon backing now. The only thing keeping us alive is how well she performs tonight. If she fails to muzzle whatever monster they have hidden in that estate, the Solomon family will destroy her, and then they will come back to destroy us to erase the evidence. Pray she survives the night, Helena. Because if she doesn't, we are already dead right now."

Without waiting for his sister-in-law, Arthur turned away from the VIP lounge, walking toward the shadows of the hotel exit, his heavy boots sounding like a steady countdown to an inevitable execution.

The drive to the northern hills was silent, save for the rhythmic, violent slap of the windshield wipers against the glass. Sarah sat in the deep leather interior of the Solomon limousine, her body perfectly still, her hands resting flat against the heavy ivory silk of the wedding dress.

"It depends on you on how to handle the situation at home. After school, my man will pick you up and bring you to school during weekdays" Mr Solomon said.

Sarah hadn't looked at her reflection since leaving the Grand Regency Hotel. She didn't need to. She could feel the symmetry of the pain across her face, the left cheek throbbing from her father’s open palm at home, the right cheek stinging from the brutal backhand in the sedan.

A matched set of bruises.

A physical price tag for her mother's life. Maria is currently checking into a private penthouse suite at St. Jude’s Med Center.

Those words were the only anchor keeping Sarah's mind from fracturing. She repeated them in her head with every flash of lightning that illuminated the dark, winding mountain road. She was a nursing student; she knew the clinical reality of St. Jude's private wing. It meant specialized air-fluidized beds to heal her mother's early bedsores. It meant daily passive range-of-motion exercises by dedicated physical therapists to undo the contractures in her curled fingers. It meant safety from Arthur’s gambling debts and her Aunt Helena's neglect.

The car slowed when it passed through a set of towering, wrought-iron gates that looked more like the entrance to a mansion than a residential estate. The Solomon ancestral home stands out with a gothic revival palace of black granite and sharp limestone peaks. It sat on the cliffside like an observant bird of prey, looking down at the glittering lights of the distant city below.

The car crawled to a halt beneath a grand stone portico. The door was opened instantly by a security guard in a crisp, military-style black uniform. He didn't speak. He simply held a massive golf umbrella over Sarah as she stepped out into the damp, cold mountain air.

Sarah stepped through the double oak doors of the estate, her breath caught in her throat.

The grand foyer was a breathtaking monument to old money and terrifying power. The floors were solid sheets of white marble, polished to such a high mirror shine that the reflection of her ivory dress made her look like she was floating on ice. Cascading from the vaulted, forty-foot ceiling were three massive chandeliers made of raw, un-cut black quartz and diamond accents, casting sharp, fragmented shadows along the walls.

There were no flowers. There were no ribbons, no music, no cheerful guests waiting with champagne. The entire venue had been set up for a grand reception, yet it was entirely empty of life. Long banquet tables covered in black damask linen stretched across the eastern wing, laden with silver platters and crystal glassware that gleamed under the quartz lights, but there was no one there to eat. A grand piano sat in the corner, but its lid closed, the whole place was silent....

"We should start now, before it's going late," Mr. Solomon stated, a smooth voice echoed from the grand staircase. Stepping down, he was the older brother who was taking her in, the architect of her trap.

Sarah turned her head sharply, her hand instinctively rising to steady herself. Watching him wearing an immaculate, three-piece tuxedo that emphasized his tall oppressive looks and commanding frame. His severe, handsome face was completely calm, yet his dark eyes observing Sarah with the clinical precision of a surgeon that evaluating a specimen.

"Is my mother safely admitted?" Sarah asked, despite the trembling in her heart.

"Our contracts are clear, Sarah. Don't worry, I'm a man of words" Mr. Solomon replied, stopping at the foot of the stairs and checking his gold pocket watch.

"The medical transport was finalized twenty minutes ago. Dr. Vance, the chief of neurology at St. Jude’s, is personally overseeing her intake. Your part begins now." He signaled with a slight wave of his hand toward a set of heavy, double-reinforced steel doors at the far end of the western corridor, a section of the house that looked completely different from the opulent foyer.

The walls there were lined with industrial soundproofing material, and the lights were recessed, clinical LEDs.

"The board of directors is arriving via a secure digital line in exactly fifteen minutes to witness the signing of the registry," Mr. Solomon said, his voice dropping into that chilling, business negotiation like.

"What are you talking about? Are you leaving me now?" Sarah asked.

"You're right, I'm a business man, that's why I need them to be a witness. Don't tell me that your father never tells you that you are going to marry the heir of Solomon's family" Mr. Solomon said.

"A.. Ah.. my father did. I just.." Sarah commented.

"So, the wedding is going to happen now.."

"But we didn't talk about it earlier? also it was not included in our contract!?" Sarah's reaction came in from her deep voices, sounds angry.

"Because you never asked. You wanted to admit your mother so I did offer you a job to pay for it." Mr. Solomon explained.

"But I never said yes, you did not ask me if I agreed to marry you?" Sarah said, wanted to fight for her dignity.

"I don't need to ask you, because I already know your answer"

"You are not so sure" Sarah said.

"Of course I do. Most of the women are secured to marry a rich man to survive."

"But I am not like them! I am young, and I have dreams!" Sarah cried.

"Sarah, I don't have time to remind you again why you are here!"

Sarah terrified. But what terrified her even more was the thought of losing her mother at any moment. Beneath the fear, a cold fury burned in her mind toward her father, the man who had sold her into this nightmare.

"Is there any other way? Anything but marrying you?" Sarah begged.

"There is no other way. Unless your father pays me back the 4.6 million." he replied coldly.

"What if I work for it? I will serve your family for the rest of my life. Just... please don't force me to marry you." Sarah pleaded.

Mr. Solomon looked down at her, his expression entirely unbothered by her tears.

"You think your lifetime of service is worth 4.6 million?" He let out a cold, humorless laugh.

"Don't value yourself so highly, Sarah. You are here to clear a debt, not to negotiate." He stepped closer, the sharp shadows from the black quartz chandeliers cutting across his face.

"The wedding is happening now. Fix your dress, dry your eyes, and get ready to walk down the aisle."