THE CEO'S CONTRACTED BRIDE

CAMILLA

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Madeline? Am I getting married? To whom?" I screamed into my phone and shocked myself. I grabbed my bag swiftly and turned to my shift partner at the diner. "I shall make it up to you next time, Clara. Please, it's impertinent that I get home right now; something vital." Clara nodded understandingly. I tried my best to bid my hurried goodbye and rushed off, heart racing by now, jumbled with a whirlwind of both confusion and urgency.

Minutes passed before I got a cab. The words the hotheaded Madeline had said to me were so vile that I hoped it was some sort of sick joke. I could not possibly bring myself to be married at the moment; I had not completely conceived of such a huge commitment. As I slid into the cab's back seat, disbelief, and dread reeled through my mind: I desperately hoped this was somehow all some atrocious prank.

I arrived home and rushed inside, only to be welcomed by my stepmom, Madeline, who seemed like the devil incarnate.

"Oh, you're home so soon, Camilla," she retorted. "You shouldn't have rushed back 'cause whether you're here or not, you're getting married in two weeks.”

"Marriage? What do you mean?" I exclaimed incredulously. "How could you sell me out to an old man in his sixties with a potbelly and a bald head? Are you out of your mind?" I threw the questions at her, but she only grinned in response.

"You want to know how much he offered, huh?" she taunted. "He just paid us $75,000 in return to marry you. I mean, where would you ever find somebody who would do that for you? Are you even worth it? Don’t you notice that scar on your face, big and disgusting?" Madeline's words burrowed through, her insults making me speechless and breaking me inside.

"I can see you're not in your right mind. How could you sell me out for just $75,000? Is that all my life is worth to you?" I chided her, furious. "Don't I have a life to live? Would you give your daughter, Anna, to him for that amount?"

"Of course not," she said in reply. "My dearest Anna is beautiful, compared to who you are. Have you seen any scar on her face ?" She smiled at me, and words were cut with a more profound insult by the comment. "Aye, soon enough, some suitor will come for her when she's of age to get married, but you aren't worth that. You're an asset we can't afford to risk.

"So what if I have a scar? Is that the end of the world?" I retorted, a storm rising within me. "When I have money, for sure, I will clear my scar. But that does not give you the right to sell me against my will. Are you delusional? Do you need to see a psychiatrist? I just can't understand what thrust you to do this."

"At least I've only got a scar," I continued bitterly. "I am not a prostitute like your daughter, who is so dear to you. She is notorious in school for her waywardness.”

Madeline sprang at me, pushed me hard away, and nailed me with a hot slap that sounded from indoors to out. The world began to spin; I lost my equilibrium with the hit. Her hands were broad and strong, something I knew only too well. She had smacked me before, and each time, I found it hard to maintain my equilibrium—my thin and fragile frame couldn't handle the blow.

"If you don't show up here in two weeks for the wedding, I will sell this house and run away, too," Madeline threatened, her voice dripping with malice. "You'll be the only one facing the feisty loan sharks and Mr. Collins." She mentioned Mr. Collins, the man who offered money to marry me—yes, the hunk of money. He was alleged to be rich and with so many wives and concubines, but nobody knew from where he had his wealth. "Then you shall feel the real heat of hell from the earth by then," she added, smirking nonchalantly, relishing her cruel power play.

"You run, but don't sell my mother's house. As for the wedding, I am not marrying him. You can sort yourself out," I said, defiantly.

" We have used it to almost clear the debts your father left. Do you want them to come for your liver, lungs, and kidneys? Maybe even your heart, too, seeing as you have no brain to locate where exactly you are," she commented with every drip of disdain as her remarks continued.

"Do not worry, I'm going to work my ass off and get back all the money for you guys, but I'm not getting married to anyone," I said as I got up from my seat and left home angrily.

"Argh!" I screamed and cried, reaching the roadside in so much pain. "I'm just 22!" Oh, the weight of the situation crashing down on me, overwhelming me with despair and uncertainty.

As I spoke, Madeline's words resonated in my mind as I thought about the deep scar on my left cheek—a constant reminder of the tragic accident that changed my life forever. It happened fifteen years ago while on our way home from work with my mother. The crash was head-on, without warning, and it instantly claimed her life while it left me barely hanging on, wrestling far-reaching injuries. Three months in a coma has left me with not just physical scars but emotional ones as well. The case of hit and run never was solved—My face was left with a permanent mark, a painful testament to all that I lost that day.

The time after my mum's death was even worse. Her friend Margaret took over my mother's business, claiming that my mother owed her much money and had put the company into debt as collateral. My father used to own a small bakery, but after my mother's death, he was ruined.He plunged into drinking and gambling jaunt to devastating debts before he disappeared, leaving me with Madeline alone.

Life with Madeline was a nightmare struggle; she would provide me with minimal sustenance, leaving me for the rest to take care of myself. But every second week, I had to give her $500, scraping together every penny that I earned from my part-time jobs. I had to work since the tender age of twelve just to survive.

I felt a cold drop fall on my back and was snapped out of this crying state. I couldn't go home now with messed-up emotions. My thoughts shifted to my boyfriend. He always knew how to cheer me up whenever I felt low. Without any more thought, I rushed to his house, just to be in his arms before it started to rain heavily.