Aurelia's POV
“What?!” I cried out, dropping my spoon on my plate in shock. My heart was beginning to pound in my chest, and I could feel my face burning with anger.
“You're going to marry into the Barone family, and..
“Oh, please,”I cried out. “I f*****g heard you the first time.” I continued to yell, cutting him off before he could continue. My father's face was unreadable and calm. But how could he be so calm when he had just announced his plan to marry me off to some stranger without my consent? I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I felt like I was losing control, my emotions threatening to spill over. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down, but it was no use. I couldn't believe what was happening.
"Who… who?” I began to stutter, my mind racing as I tried to find the words to express my disbelief. “Who even arranges marriages for their kids these days?” I finally blurted out. “Dad, how could you?” I exclaimed, my voice shaking with emotion as I slammed my hands on the table.
“You need to calm down and listen to me,” my father said, his voice calm and even. “I've thought about this carefully before making this decision. It's for the best.” I looked at him in disbelief, trying to comprehend or understand how this is for the best.
“How can you say this is for the best?” I exclaimed, cutting him off again. I felt myself shaking, I was finding it hard currently to tame the anger threatening to overcome me. “I don't understand where this is coming from,” I continued, struggling to control my emotions.”You, of all people, know what it's like to be in a loveless marriage,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don't want that for myself. I would rather not marry this Barone or whatever family you're talking about.” I stared at my father, my gaze unwavering.
“You will do as I say,” my father said, his voice now tinged with anger. “I'm doing this for our own good, do you think I'm happy making this decision?” He asked rhetorically. “You know how much I love you, and I would do anything to make you happy.
“So where was this love when you decided to marry me off?” I asked, searching his eyes for answers.
“I had to do this because we're bankrupt, and I need to run for office in the next term,” he replied, this time avoiding my gaze. I stopped in my tracks, my mind reeling from what my father had just said.
“Wait, let me get this straight,” I said, my voice shaking. “You're selling me off, but you're using this marriage as a cover, all to save your broke ass?” I was shaking with rage, my eyes were red and I could feel my face burning. “And you're saying this is for the best?” I felt a rush of emotions washes over me, my thoughts racing. I no longer cared about what I said or how it would affect my father.
“I can't believe you! Why don't you just marry off Annalise your stepdaughter instead!” I yelled, tears stinging my eyes. The room suddenly felt hot and stuffy, and I felt like I was suffocating. I needed to get out.
“You think mom would be happy if she were alive?” Those were the last words I spoke before standing up from the table. I looked at my stepmother and stepsister, who both wore smug expressions on their faces. I hurried out of the dining room, my father's voice calling out after me,
“Come back here. I'm not done talking.” I ignored him, continuing on my way to my room. The moment I closed the door behind me, the tears began to fall.
I ran to my bed and buried my face in the pillow, screaming into it as hard as I could. I let out all the emotions I had been trying to hide for so long. I felt like my whole world was crumbling around me. In moments like these, I would find myself wondering what life would have been like if death hadn't taken my mother from me. I'd imagine a future where she was still here, a future where I could turn to her for comfort.
I pulled the pillow from my face, my cheeks wet with tears. I sat on the bed, looking around the room. My gaze landed on a framed picture of my mother, father, and I on the beach, taken just days before the accident that took her life. I could still remember the day so clearly. I had waited for my mother in the school playground after class, but she didn't come, which was unlike her. My dad finally showed up, looking sad and terrified. I knew something wasn't right, but I couldn't tell what it was.
My father had rushed me to the hospital, where we found out that my mother had been in a car accident and had died. I was numb, unable to feel anything but shock. I saw my father crying, his sobs echoing in the room. It felt like the world had stopped moving, and all I could do was watch as everything fell apart around me. At that moment, the happy family I had known was gone, replaced by a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
My dad struggled to cope. He started drinking, coming home late, and not spending time with me like he used to. My schoolwork was suffering, and my teachers had noticed. They called my father, and the headteacher threatened to call the child services if things didn't improve.
My father decided to take in another wife, a woman who also had a child of her own. He thought that a new wife and a new sibling would be good for me, but he was mistaken. My stepmother and her daughter were nothing like a family to me. They made my childhood a living nightmare, treating me like a servant and a lesser person.
My head was pounding, my eyes burning from the tears I had shed. I needed a break, some fresh air, or maybe even a drink to help me forget my problems for a while. I quickly washed my face and applied a light layer of makeup to try to hide the redness and puffiness. I slipped out the back door of the house, relieved that I had managed to get out without anyone seeing me.
I started walking, not really sure where I was going, just knowing that I needed to get away from the house. I decided to head to a nearby club, figuring a drink or two might help clear my head. I pushed through the crowd, trying to reach the bar.
“Excuse me!” I yelled, trying to be heard over the loud music. “Can I get a glass of vodka?” The bartender looked at me with a skeptical expression.
“ID, please,” he said, not sounding convinced I was of legal drinking age. I started searching through my pockets for my ID, relieved when I found it. I showed it to him, and he nodded, heading to the bar to make my drink.
A few minutes later, the bartender returned with my drink. I smiled in gratitude as I took the glass, sipping the vodka slowly. As I watched the strippers dancing gracefully around the pole, my mood began to lift. But all of a sudden, the atmosphere in the club changed. The music stopped, and the strippers froze in place. A man had just walked in. He was surrounded by a group of burly bouncers, and I couldn't make out his face. But I could feel his powerful aura, and I couldn't help but wonder who he was and why he commanded such respect here.