Married for Revenge, Bound by Love

This is not taking place. This isn't possible."

The big red letters of the crumpled eviction notice burned like a curse into my head as I stared at it with my shaking hands.

THE NOTICE IS OVER.

I was having trouble breathing because of the steel cage-like weight of reality pressing down on my chest. The rent is past due.

We no longer own the house, our home. I gave a harsh laugh, hollow and piercing. How did this occur?

I turned to face my father as his feeble, unsure voice pierced the stifling silence, "Emilia?"

He stood against the wooden frame of his bedroom door in the tiny passageway, his face wan and sunken.

Only a shell of the man he once was remained after the sickness claimed his life.

My heart tightened. He was observing me. His tired blue eyes, which had once been filled with assurance and warmth, were now filled only with silent regret.

"Dear, is something wrong with you, hope you are okay?"

I shoved the paper behind my back and swallowed the lump in my throat.

"No, father. Everything is good and I am fine".

It was too easy for me to tell the lie. I could see the doubt flicker over his face, yet his lips twisted into a feeble smile.

" "Will you spend some time sitting with me?"

I hesitated for a second before nodding. What might I do? The smell of medicine and a faint trace of the perfume he wore before getting sick filled the dark air of his chamber.

Unopened bills were heaped on his bedside table.

I knew what was inside them. Additional notifications. More dangers. More debts that aren't paid off.

Carefully, he slid himself onto the bed. "Recently, you've been working too much."

I made an effort to grin.

"You have to stay busy, don't you?" He let out a sigh.

"You don't have to do this alone, Emilia."

I took a deep breath.

However, I do. Since my father's breakdown three years ago, I've been carrying the burden of responsibility. I had to deal with hospital stays, prescription drugs, and past-due payments.

I had worked every shift at the café, every freelance job, and every restless night to keep us afloat.

And now? We were drowning now. I fidgeted with my sleeve's hem.

"I'll work it out." He looked at me for a while. Then he became almost reluctant in his voice.

"I have some information that I would like to discuss with you."

I felt sick to my stomach, and his speech was low and reserved.

Before I could comprehend what he had told me, there was a loud bang on the door. I lurched to my feet.

No.

My ribs were smacked by my pulse. It came too soon. They weren't expected to arrive just yet.

The knocking was louder this time. More impatient. With wobbly legs, I pushed myself to stand and made my way to the door.

"Emilia, take a breath".

I immediately take a Simple breath. The door flung open before I could even turn the knob.

A man entered wearing a dark suit. He glanced at me with cold, calculating eyes and then took a clean envelope out of his pocket.

"Miss Hart," he remarked in a silky but uncaring voice. "Your landlord has issued stringent directives."

I wrapped my fingers around the doorframe's edge. "I simply require a bit more time."

He didn't flinch. "The allotted time is up." It was a slap of words.

Behind me, the sound of my father's weak cough reverberated throughout the home, serving as a sobering reminder of why I was unable to go. I took a nervous breath.

"Please. I- I was silenced when he held up a hand.

"By the end of the week, the property must be abandoned. Legal action will be taken if you refuse".

Legal action!

The room swayed. I tightened my hold on the door.

"What is our intended destination?" The man remained silent. He was indifferent. Before I could stop him, he turned and disappeared down the stairs after giving me the envelope.

With the paper burning in my hand, I stood motionless. A blustery wind shook the windows. Once replete with late-night giggles, childhood memories, and the aroma of my mother's cooking, the house felt chilly. Aliens.

Everything was being taken by them. My vision became hazy. Groceries were barely covered by the café job.

The commissions were insufficient. I didn't have any money saved. No safety net. And my dad...

With the weight pressing heavier on my chest, I turned back toward his room. I couldn't allow this to occur. My throat was scratched by desperation.

There must have been another way out.

A remedy, Something, that will help.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, as though fate had chosen to make fun of me. I had never seen the number that flashed across the screen before. I was hesitant to respond.

"Miss Hart." The silence was filled with a powerful, commanding voice. I stiffened. "Who is this?"

A pause. "Damian Blackwood" follows.

I was shivering at the name. I was aware of his identity. Everyone did. A billionaire, a ruthless businessman. A man who, with one choice, created empires. And the guy I shouldn't have heard from.

"What are you looking for?" I muttered. One more pause. The next thing he said chilled me to the bone.

"I have an idea for you." I gripped the phone tighter.

"I have no interest." He gave a low, knowing laugh.

"What I'm offering hasn't even reached your ears." There was something about his confident, smooth voice that made my heart race.

I shouldn't pay attention. I should end the call. However, my father's feeble cough reverberated. I shut my eyes. Blackwood, Damian is a powerful man.

A wealthy man. A man who always expected something in return for whatever he accomplished. I took a deep breath. "What sort of proposal is it?"

He spoke in a soothing and steady tone. As if he knew my response already. "Wedding." I was startled at the word. I clasped my fingers around the phone.

No, he couldn't mean- "I need a wife," he added, sounding as if he was talking about a business transaction.

"You require funds."

I was having trouble breathing. "You're not serious."

"Totally."

I felt a chilly wave of incredulity go over me. Getting married?

To Blackwood, Damian?

This was crazy, this was an error. Nevertheless- My eyes kept returning to the eviction notice that was resting on the table. The bills that haven't been paid.

The faint outline of my father in the dark corridor. My heart thumping, I put the phone to my ear. "What's the catch?" He answered without hesitation.

"A year. You pretend to be my wife. In exchange, your financial issues will be resolved and your father's medical bills will be paid".

A year I will give up the year of my life for safety. A golden chain around a lifeline. The weight of my father's future crushing against my chest made me feel as though the walls were closing in.

Although Damian's voice grew softer, it still had a hint of finality.

"Emilia, what will it be?"

With a knot in my gut, I took one last look around the house. Already, I was losing everything I had left to lose.

"When do we start?" I asked, taking a deep, trembling breath.