Chapter 2 02

Chapter 02

My dad married my mum when they were both 23, younger than I am now, and I don't understand how they could find each other and commit so easily. I mean, I can't find a guy I'm content to stay in a relationship with for more than six months. There is always something I get bored with, although I can't say it's the sex. So, I've never understood how people just know. They're supposed to "feel it." My parents had their whole future set up, or so it seemed, until it all came crumbling down.

Anyway, they got married young. My dad started his business right after, and then, surprise, surprise, they had me. At the same time, his company really started to take off. Suddenly, it was making millions, and my dad was hardly ever home. Mum stayed back, gave up her career as a model, put her studies to be a lawyer on pause, and became a stay-at-home mum. I don't think she had a choice. Not with a man as obsessed with his business as my father.

By the time I was seven, I was already noticing the cracks. Not in a typical kid way, though-I wasn't that naive. I could sense how things had changed. My dad was always working, leaving Mum to carry everything. And I mean everything. There were nights I'd wake up to find her crying on the couch, quietly sniffling, but never telling me why. I thought it was because of me. I used to feel guilty, like it was my fault she was sad, like I'd taken something from her that she couldn't get back. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it was never about me. It was about him.

I remember the day my dad came home, packed his bags, and walked out of our lives. I thought it was my fault, like I'd done something to drive him away. But as I grew older, it became clearer: my dad was just a sleazebag who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. According to the tabloids, the affair was with his assistant. But I never bothered asking either of them for the truth-why would I? It wasn't like I cared about their lies. My father had been absent for so long that it didn't matter what he had to say now.

It definitely put a strain on our relationship. My mum married a surgeon years later, and they were happy. Dad, on the other hand, had more girlfriends than I've had hot dinners. As for me, I guess I took after him. I'm not exactly the relationship type, and honestly, I'm not upset about it. Some people are just meant for short flings, I suppose. I've never been one to settle.

Honestly, I never considered myself the marrying type. For most of my life, I couldn't even imagine walking down an aisle. The thought of it just felt... suffocating. Every time I think about marriage, I picture my father's endless parade of ex-wives sobbing in my ear about how much of an asshole he was. Trust me, I heard it all. My childhood was a blur of broken hearts and promises that never lasted. So no, marriage wasn't something I planned on, not ever. But, of course, my father had other ideas.

I should have known. Of course, he'd think it was the perfect way to use me. No surprise there. He thinks I'll just agree to marry some boring business partner's son for the sake of his company. Maybe some nerdy idiot who'll be too clueless to realize what I'm doing. Or even worse, he might try to get me to marry some old, fat guy. I can already see it now: Dad, in his office, grinning like the shark he is, trying to broker some kind of deal where I'm just another pawn in his game.

I could barely keep my eyes open as I sit there, hands clenched in my lap, silently processing every thought that's flying through my mind. My father's voice continues to drone on about how fantastic this would be for the company, but all I hear is the hum of my thoughts spinning out of control. It's almost laughable how predictable he is. As if I could be bought. The man practically lives in his office chair, or worse, some other woman's bed. Probably both. And still, here he is, sitting in front of me, trying to sell me off like I'm some property he doesn't want anymore.

I stare at him, trying to filter out the disgust rising in me, but it's hard when everything he says makes me feel like I'm drowning. An arranged marriage. A bloody marriage. What the hell is he thinking? This isn't just about love or commitment-this is business. For him, it always has been. And it's not like we don't have billions already. My father could buy everything on this planet and still have money left over, yet here he is, trying to sell me as if I'm not worth anything more than the potential profits I can bring. It's sickening.

But he won't stop. I can see it in his eyes. He thinks this is the solution. He thinks I'll be okay with it. A nice, clean, loveless marriage to some idiot, probably older than me, just to help prop up his crumbling empire. I hate how I can already predict the future. I can see this man, this business shark, sitting across from me, grinning like he's won some kind of victory. I feel like I'm being cornered. And the worst part? He's probably right. I'll never be able to escape it. I'm his only bargaining chip now.

I try to focus, but the thought of an arranged marriage just keeps spinning in my head. It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from. Is this what it means to be a woman in my world? To be used and discarded based on a business deal? I can't believe I'm even considering this. But then again, what other choice do I have? It's not like I have a say in my life, right? The only thing I can do is let it happen. Dad will push and push until I have no choice but to cave. And if I don't? I can already hear the judgment in his voice, the disappointment.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting my mind wander. Maybe, just maybe, I could leave. Run away from all of it. Find a place where I'm not just a pawn in some game. But where would I go? Who would I be, without this life? It's hard to imagine myself outside of it, no matter how much I want to.

The silence drags on for what feels like hours, but I don't speak. What's the point? There's nothing I can say that would change anything.

"Do you understand?" my father asks, his tone sharp, breaking through my thoughts.

I blink and look at him, not knowing how to respond. "Sure," I say, my voice flat, masking the bitterness that's crawling up my throat. "I get it."

But I don't. Not really.

He smiles, probably thinking I'm on board, and continues his little speech about how this will be the best thing for both of us. For him, at least. I don't hear the rest of it, my mind already lost in a sea of doubt and anger. It feels like my life is slipping further and further away from me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I lean back in my chair, staring out the window. The world is spinning, and all I can do is hold on. The one thing I've always wanted-freedom-seems further out of reach than ever.