Mafia's Enigmatic Marriage

Chapter 3

Aaria Emerson

"You're looking gorgeous," Maria, the makeup artist hired to enhance my beauty for a man I haven't met yet, complemented. On any other day, I would have appreciated the kind words and felt a sense of satisfaction, but today, the compliment felt like a splash of cold water on my face.

My fingers anxiously clutched the soft fabric of the light peach-coloured floral dress I wore. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. The makeup artist diligently worked on fixing the curls of my hair, while her assistants focused on concealing the scars on my body, especially on my shoulders and hands.

Given that some wounds were still fresh and unhealed, they dressed me in a way that covered the injuries, ensuring that the aftermath of my father's wrath remained hidden from view. It was difficult to fathom that a parent could stoop so low as to thrust their own child into the clutches of another Mafia family just to secure a deal that would benefit his criminal business.

A hard lump formed in the back of my throat as I recalled yesterday's conversation with my father.

"Why? Why would you do this to me?" A lone tear escaped from my eyes as my heart weighed so heavily that it felt like it might cease to beat. The emotional pain far surpassed the physical agony I was enduring.

Upon regaining consciousness, I replayed the events and realised that somehow my father had discovered my plan to run away. He caught me red-handed and subjected me to a beating that left me unconscious. Between all this chaos, I still have no idea what they did to jack. I hope he’s fine, or at least  alive. 

My entire body was a canvas of injuries, with small cuts visible on my hands and forehead, and more profound wounds on my thighs, back, and shoulders. The pain from each injury was excruciating; every breath intensified the suffering.

The doctor, appointed by my father for his own selfish reasons, had been providing immediate care for the past two days. However, the medications took time to work on my wounds, and I had to endure the pain until then.

Around evening, my father finally arrived to see me after I had refused to eat or take the medicines until he answered my questions. I knew he wouldn't care about me starving, but for now, I was an essential part of his plan. I decided to leverage that position to summon him as he’s answerable to me. 

 He can’t just  make the biggest decisions about my life and disappear without providing a proper explanation.

Sitting across the table from him, I steadied myself for the questions I had been meticulously preparing for hours. He leisurely fixed himself a drink, unfazed until I initiated my inquiry, which seemed to irritate him within minutes.

"Don't forget that you're in no position to question me," came his authoritative voice, punctuated by slow sips of his drink. As usual, he appeared indifferent, and the insensitivity pierced me even more. How could he be so callous when it came to me?

"You literally fixed my marriage with someone I don't even know, and you expect me not to question?" My voice trembled, laden with agony and pain that fell on deaf ears as my father remained engrossed in his drink.

"I don't understand... If you hate me that much, why even keep me alive all these years?" I asked, attempting to maintain a facade of strength despite my eyes welling up with tears as I sniffed painfully.

He let out a mocking chuckle before responding, "To let you fulfil your duty as a daughter."

My eyes widened in shock; he couldn't be serious, could he?

"What duty?" I asked incredulously.

"To be the pawn in my plan," he replied, devoid of any hint of remorse as he locked eyes with me.