POV Ella
When I look up to find the man in front of me is the same boy who saved me on my birthday, my heart stutters violently—as if it might stop altogether.
I instinctively begin to smile—a reflex of pure, unadulterated relief, seeing the only kindness I'd ever known. The light of that memory shatters when I register the absolute disgust on his face. His expression is a cold wall, built of fury and contempt. It hits me, hard, the fact of his dislike, like a slap that leaves no mark but burns deep.
A part of me wants to find the words to change his mind, and the remaining part of me just wants to disappear into the carpet fibers. I experience the weight of his hate far more keenly after the day I've already endured.
Does he remember me from that day?
I scan his nearly silver eyes for the flicker of recognition, some hint of the little boy who shared his cake. There is nothing but the cold, hard glint of a stranger's hostility. The hostility radiating from him— my savior— is enough to make me stop short. I want to call out to him but my father's focused attention kills that dream quickly.
I look around at all the participants of this farce. My father's disdain bleeds into every action and expression, while mom and Eliana pretend I don't exist. It's the other three people I'm unsure how to place. One man looks at me with such sympathy, a lump forms in my chest, while the other looks on with complete indifference.
It's the woman — Haley Ingram, if my study of the gossip pages is anything to go by — that gives me pause. The look in her eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
I turn to my father and cautiously ask him what's going on. I don't want to provoke him. His glare of rejection causes a shiver to race down my spine. I know I will pay for this somehow, but it's the least of my concerns.
"You are going to marry the heir of Ingram Tech, Keith Ingram. That's all you really need to know." He points towards my savior with calculated disregard.
These words from his mouth knock the breath from my lungs. For a moment, I feel dizzy, the world narrowing to the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. I stare uncomprehendingly.
My mind, desperate for safe harbor, latches on to the first thing that registers: Keith—so that's his name. I taste his name on my tongue, and it feels sweet, sharp and tangy all at once. I feel a warmth spark in me each time I think of his name. Then I register the rest of his statement and feel the blood leech from my face.
He raises his eyebrows at me as my color drains and says, "He is better than you deserve, but I will allow it, just this once."
This continued condescension only makes me feel more exhausted. A part of me wants to be mad, to fight back, for both myself and Keith, but I can't find the energy.
Could this truly be happening?
Hope flares in my chest. I am escaping the Bryce household.
I sense there is more to this situation, but I'm not sure I even care as a cautious delight starts to fill me. I excitedly glance at Keith again, to find a raging fury and bitterness in his nearly silver eyes. His whole being is coiled tight, an aura of danger radiating from him, as if he is moments away from snapping.
What will I do if he too chooses to lash out at me? My heart sinks, heavy and cold.
I'll just be exchanging one hateful prison for another.
"Do I get a choice?" the words slip out before I can filter them, and I know I've made a mistake.
My father raises his eyes to mine, and the coldness in them makes me shudder. He simply says—No. I gasp like I am gut-punched. This single word hits me with the finality of the gallows. I swallow hard.
I can tell that Keith absolutely does not like me. His whole body tenses with dislike each time he looks at me.
Keith was one of the rare few who ever showed me kindness. Now he can barely even stand me. I don't want him chained to me like this. I open my mouth— barely able to summon the courage to bring this sentiment forth —when my father bangs his cane. The sound reverberates through my whole body and flings me back to the home of my nightmares. I flinch and my grip involuntarily tightens on my purse until I see Keith's entire attention is focused on me. I force myself to release my grip on my purse.
I don't have all the details of this situation, but my intuition tells me my father is delighted by this turn of events. He would never allow such an advantageous match for me if it didn't bring him immense profit.
I nod once, to show I understand. Any more defiance will not be tolerated.
Helplessness surges within me. My mind wants to escape to a place where this pain becomes bearable, but I won't let it.
You're made of sterner stuff, I remind myself. I survived two years of my father's impossible demands, earning that diploma despite him. The weight of this diploma I earned myself grounds me. I take a deep breath to center myself. I smell the leather of the chairs, and the faint aroma of cigar smoke. The air conditioner is creating a mini tundra in this room. I let the sensations of the room ground me and look around for an empty chair, to find the only one next to Keith himself.
I sink into the only available chair next to him, steeling myself with false bravado.
"Shall we begin?"