She stood motionless at the entrance of the courthouse, her feet planted firmly against the cold marble floor, yet her heart felt as though it were dangling over a cliff. The towering building loomed above her, gray and unfeeling, much like the fate that had been forced upon her. People walked past her in hurried steps, each of them burdened by their own problems, none sparing her a second glance. To them, it was just another ordinary day. To Rosie, it was the day her life stopped being hers.
She clutched her handbag tightly against her chest, her fingers trembling despite her attempts to remain composed. Today, she was here to fulfill her father's wish
the final demand of a man who had once been her hero but had now become a stranger wearing her father's face. A man who had traded her happiness for business alliances and cold ambition.
Rosie inhaled deeply and stepped inside.
The courthouse smelled faintly of paper, polish, and despair. Her heels echoed against the floor as she made her way toward the lawyer's office. This was it. This was where she would meet the man her father had chosen for her. The man who, according to whispers and rumors, ruled his world with iron discipline and cruel authority.Always known for his pride and ignorance and the worst part is he is known to be gay
But the first blow of disappointment came swiftly.
Instead of the groom himself, she was greeted by a sharply dressed man who introduced himself as Mr. Jude—the personal assistant.
"He couldn't make it," Jude said politely, as though he were discussing a canceled lunch meeting instead of a wedding. "Mr. Watts sends his regards."
Rosie's lips twitched into a bitter scoff.
So the rumors were true.
The man she was to marry couldn't even be bothered to show up to sign his own marriage certificate. He couldn't spare a single hour to look at the woman whose life he was about to claim. In that moment, every dreadful thing she had heard about him felt painfully real.
She lowered her head, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill. No, she told herself. Crying would change nothing. Crying was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Keeping her head high, Rosie followed Jude up the stairs to the third floor, each step heavier than the last. With every stair she climbed, it felt like she was ascending toward a future she neither wanted nor chose.
As long as my mother is safe, this is just a little sacrifice, she reminded herself.
Her fingers slipped into her bag, pulling out a soft, worn handkerchief—one her grandmother had given her years ago. Rosie wiped her eyes gently, drawing comfort from the familiar fabric. Her grandmother's voice echoed faintly in her memory: "Strength isn't the absence of fear, Rosie. It's choosing to stand even when your heart is breaking."
Inside the office, the lawyer wasted no time. Papers were slid across the table. Words like contract, binding, and irrevocable floated past her ears like foreign sounds. Rosie signed where she was told, her signature sealing a fate she had never agreed to.
When it was over, she rose from her seat feeling hollow.
Without another word, she stepped outside, desperate to escape the suffocating air. All she wanted was to go to the hospital—to sit beside her mother's bed, to hold her fragile hand and whisper promises of better days.
She raised her hand to hail a cab.
"Mrs. Watts."
The voice stopped her cold.
She turned to see Jude standing behind her.
"He said I should take you to the house after signing the papers."
Rosie stared at him for a moment, then looked away. She didn't argue. She didn't protest. What was the point? Silence had become her only defense.
Ignoring him, she walked back into the hospital building, only to be met with devastating news.
Her mother was gone.
Not dead—but transferred.
"What do you mean she's been moved?" Rosie demanded, her voice trembling as panic clawed its way into her chest.
One of the doctors adjusted his glasses nervously. "Your stepmother authorized the transfer. She said it was urgent."
Rosie's vision blurred.
"Why would you allow a crazy woman to move my mother without informing me?" she yelled, her voice echoing through the hallway.
The doctor had no answer.
Her legs gave way beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, her handbag slipping from her grasp. In that moment, Rosie felt as though every reason she had left to live had been snatched away from her.
Then her phone buzzed.
A message from her father.
Come home now, daughter.
"Daughter?" she whispered, staring at the screen in disbelief. "Me?"
A hollow laugh escaped her lips loud, broken, almost manic. People turned to stare, whispering among themselves as she laughed like someone who had finally lost her mind.
She wiped her face and stood up slowly, walking toward the hospital exit.
There, waiting like an unshakable shadow, was Jude again, holding open the door of a sleek black car.
"Why should I enter the car, Mr. PA?" Rosie asked, exhaustion evident in her voice.
"You are now married into the Watts family," Jude replied calmly. "Taking a cab is no longer allowed according to the rules signed by your father. If you disobey, Mr. Watts will be angry."
"And so?" Rosie snapped.
"That may lead to divorce," Jude continued, unfazed, "and your family will be punished."
Her breath caught.
"But I'm going home," she said quietly.
"I'll drive you there."
The ride was silent.
When they arrived, Rosie stepped into what was once her happy home. The walls felt colder, the air heavier. The laughter that once filled the house had vanished, replaced by bitterness and betrayal.
How could a human being be so cruel? she wondered. How could her father bring another woman into their home while her mother lay sick and helpless?
She marched into the living room, her heart pounding.
Her father didn't even look up.
"Pack your things and leave my house," he said coldly.
"Where is my mother, Lucifiana?" Rosie demanded, turning to the woman standing beside him.
Lucifiana smiled a slow, devilish smile.
"She's safe," she said sweetly. "As long as you cooperate and go to the Watts' house. We'll fly her to another state for better treatment."
Rosie clenched her fists.
"So this is blackmail," she said softly.
Lucifiana shrugged. "Call it motivation."
Rosie swallowed her pride, her anger, her heartbreak.
"As long as my mother is safe," she said, "I'll go."
"Good girl," Lucifiana replied.
Rosie turned away without another word.
At the door, she paused.
"Make sure you keep your word," she said quietly.
Then she walked out—toward the unknown, toward the Watts' mansion, toward a marriage that began not with love, but with sacrifice.
And somewhere deep inside her, a silent promise formed.
I may be trapped now, Rosie thought, but I will not remain powerless forever.