Forced To Be His Bride

“We are here,” Micheal, the driver who came to pick me up from the airport, said to me. A little smile on his elderly face. I returned his kind smile and looked around. A deep nervous feeling filled the pit of my stomach as I watched, anxious about my fate now. My new life in my estranged millionaire father's home as his illegitimate daughter. I looked around, a sad empty feeling filling the pit of my stomach as I pushed the door open. The magnitude of Mr Romano's house, my estranged father- I prefer to call him that, as I share no relationship with him whatsoever, awed me for a slight second and distracted my worry with the luxury the whole house showed. It was straight out of an architectural magazine. A few fluorescent lamps stood above our heads and some ahead of our path as we got out of the car. I could hear the silent chirpings of birds, it pierced through the quiet afternoon and occasionally broke the silence. Micheal brought down my bags and attempted to take them towards what looked like a porch himself, but I of course, helped. This was the first time anyone was helping with what I normally do for myself. The house was simply mind-blowing, a testament to the power money gives and by the mere appearance of it, it was nothing ordinary. The glass walls of the Mediterranean home shone with golden lights illuminating some sections of the house against the bright California sun. I followed Micheal sheepishly as he walked through the cool courtyard lined with palm trees overhead. Exhaustion seeped into my bones, causing me to drag my steps against the granite floor. Ahead, a lit fountain danced beautifully in the center of the courtyard. It held my attention for a while before feasting my eyes on the surroundings. I was awed at the massive land owned by just one family. This land would fit seven homes in my suburban neighborhood and there would be enough space for a mini playground and pool. Led to the porch by Micheal, he rang on it carefully. It made no noise on the outside, but in no seconds the locks of the door rattled and clicked. The door was pushed open to reveal a beautiful chubby woman. She looked like a sweet young Grandma that ages like fine wine. Her eyes lit up when she met me. I immediately felt shy under her gaze. She watched me with such interest, like a child who comes across the most beautiful toy in the Toy Store. “Sweet mother of God, she looks just like him. But in a lady form.“ She and Micheal shared a look. He chuckled at her comment. “Will you feast your eyes on her all night? She is here to stay. You have years to do that.“ Micheal teased her. She waved him off, shuffling over to my side. I saw an apology swirling in her eyes. “You look like an angel. Forgive me, my dear. I am Joyce, the family housekeeper and cook. I have heard so much from them about you. Micheal is behaving his age in front of you, he has been chattering excited non-stop about his assignment to be the one to pick you up from the airport.“ My chest warmed up at how nice they were to me. So receptive, my longing to be wanted by someone, to be loved by my parents nagged me. Almost made me desperate She cupped my face ever so gently. “You must be tired and hungry.” Her face broke in a warm smile. “Come in dear. The—” She frowned when she saw me struggling with one of my bags. “You don't need to stress yourself. Micheal would carry them up for you.“ She took my hand and walked me into the house. We pass through the hallways, our footsteps echoing against the pristine white walls. I stared around often, desperate to distract my mind from meeting my father and, well… his family. I doubted they would be receptive to me given the chaos my mother caused in the media. That's how much it took my father to accept me half-heartedly into his family. I cared less about being a part of the Romano family. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be standing within these walls, but my mother's decisions hold a much greater stand in my life as she supposedly knows best. Our argument before coming here is still fresh in my mind, but I perceived her intentions were good for me. I won't blame her or judge her too harshly. Muting my thoughts for a while, I was met with a spacious living room big enough to fit my mother's house. A large singular couch, L-shaped and covered in white treated leather sat in the middle. No center table, just two similar beanie couches by its side. Somewhat further from the center. In the wall was a fireplace, and a huge plasma TV, resembling a cinema screen. The whole living room had a cozy feel to it. Far from the center of the living room, there was a classic polished piano sitting just a bit further from the stairs. The whole room looks like a mansion ballroom but with a chic setting. Joyce let loose of my hand clutched with hers. I hardly noticed. “The family is Er— not here to give you the warm welcome you are probably expecting, but don't feel too bad.” She gazed at me with sympathy. I shook my head in zero offence. This is for the best either way. I don't particularly think they would be warm towards me, but let's nurture optimism. All my life I have been hit with reality. I hardly participated in delusion. “You go freshen up. I am preparing brunch for the family.“ She says, but I stood there clueless. Then it hit her. She let out a laugh and palm-faced herself. “You haven't been introduced to your room yet.” She called Micheal, who my bags up to show me my room. He led me up the stairs and I followed. We went up the fancy spiral stairs made of some strong glass. The number of chandeliers I have counted only increased in their numbers. The walls were mainly glass. It was like a glass mansion. To the east of the house a magnificent view of a beach spread out. From the landscape of the house, it seemed like we were atop a hill, which provided the advantage of these breathtaking views. Once over the stairs, we walked past multiple aisles, big pictures framed plastered on the walls of some. Micheal led me to a turn and at the first door we met. He gestured to me, and, as I guessed, it was my room. I slowly entered my room, cautious of nothing particular. I sighted my luggage close to the closet and passed an appreciative look at Micheal. I thanked him before he left. Now left alone in my thoughts and this sparse room. I looked around in disbelief at how big and well furnished it was. The walls were just like the ones outside, painted a pristine creamy color. A soft-toned beige wall, a built-in shoe rack, a book stall, a huge walk-in wardrobe and two pot plants housing beautiful English Ivy plants. Above my head was a pechant lighting fixture, covered with a handcrafted woven basket that trapped the soft fluorescent light and made the room beautiful. On the walls were wall scones, lamp types stuck on them and on the dark book racks. On segments of the walls, ambient colored lighting fixtures made the room look like it came straight out of an Insta'gram post. All aesthetic-y. Feeling all grim and dirty after my flight on the commercial plane, I stripped off my cargo pants, my t-shirt and my cheap Jordans shoes and noticed a part of the sole was chipped off. I guessed I had worn it out. I made a mental note to keep my glasses on as I can't see without them. Hopefully, there's a place in the bathroom to place them as I have a quick shower. The bathroom left the same impression as my room, everything was sparkling and screamed of wealth. Was it the multiple body wash and scented soaps or the golden shower head? I warmed my water slightly, removed my glasses and placed them on the sink before entering the shower and washing myself thoroughly. I used the scented papaya-rose water body wash. It was similar to my cheap body wash, and the scent was the same. I exited the bathroom and layered my skin with my lotion, scented papaya laid I love the smell of papaya. Don't judge me. I put on a cargo jumpsuit, a brown T-shirt and my simplest strap sandals. In front of the mirror, I recognized my tired eyes, puffy from last night's crying after I argued with my mother. My cognac-bright eyes were dull. I brushed my above shoulder-length hair, tucked it behind my ears, and lastly applied my lip balm on my chapped lips. I guess I was ready for brunch with the family. I swallowed in trepidation and was about to step out when I heard chaos outside. A high-pitched voice of a woman. She sounded furious about something. I heard the voice of Joyce. She sounded distressed about something. Soon enough, a loud knock boomed on my door, and more harsher ones followed. “Open the damn door.” The woman with the high-pitched voice ordered. Scared and curious at the same time, I did and was met by the woman responsible for the loud noises. I soon recognized her. She was Natasha Leman, the wife of Mr Romano. She regarded me for a brief moment, disgust and contempt expressed on her face before looking past me like I never existed in front of her. “Get her bags out!” She ordered a maid, whose face I hadn't met before. I blinked at her words, unable to process them quite well. “It's my room.” I said, surprised my voice came out very low and small. She returned her gaze to me, and the disgust on her face intensified. “The poor are indeed selfish, you give them crumbs and the next thing they want is to eat is with the master. Should I remind you of who you are?“ She said coldly. I flinched at the hate in her eyes. I have never seen someone look at me with so much hate. Joyce came forward, she was almost in tears. “Romano, won't be happy with this.“ Natasha passed a harsh look at her before replying her in a similar manner. “You are a maid in this house because you were his nanny doesn't give you the right to meddle in our family matters.“ “She deserves to be in this room just like anyone in this house does.“ Joyce argued. “She is Romano's daughter. His blood.“ I felt uncomfortable, and wanted Joyce not to put herself in the fire because of me. Natasha's eyes burned, furious at her words. “Don't you ever equate her as the daughter of the Keith family? The family has one daughter and heir and that is Clarrisa. She is the daughter of a cheap slu't who saw my husband as a way out of her poverty.“ I fought back my tears at her words. My mother wasn't a slu't, the only person here to be held was Mr Romano who predated young women and managed to get her pregnant. “I don't feel thrilled about being here or having your family name. I will leave the room but do leave my mother's name out of your mouth.“ “I am pleased you have recognized your position in this family quickly enough. I am not ready to trade words with you forever.“ The maid walked out with most of my belongings. “Where should I keep her things, Ma'am?“ She asked. Mrs Natasha Romano wastes no time answering. “The servant quarters.“