C3 The Wedding Holds

'' Annabella," he said, still smiling. Swallowing the fear within me, I gathered the courage to question why I was there.

"What do you want from me? Why am I here? How do you know my name?" I asked, trying to sound brave despite the foreign quality of my own voice. A ghostly smile crept across the old man's face as if he found my inquiries amusing.

"How I knew your name is not important now. You are here because you owe me," he replied smugly.

"How? Today was the first day I set my eyes on you," I retorted, confusion etched on my face.

He chuckled quietly. "Your father borrowed 100 million dollars from me." My eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yes, your father's little wealth was thanks to me," he continued, casually seating himself in a chair I hadn't noticed. The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks – my father had borrowed money from the mafia.

Instead of dwelling on the past or lamenting spilled milk, I mustered the resolve to make things right. "Okay, I have heard what you have to say. I'll work and start paying you," I declared. To my surprise, the old man burst into laughter, leaving me perplexed.

"Oh, Annabella, forgive my outburst. I admire your courage in trying to make things right, but don't you think that is too late?" he remarked.

"Late?" I questioned.

"Yes, late. Your father was meant to begin payment the year you were born, but suddenly he disappeared without a trace. I found out about his death a week ago and discovered he had a daughter. I couldn't be any more glad," he explained.

I sighed deeply. "Okay, I know my father owes you, but I am not my father. I will do my best to pay back every single dollar."

"You know I can wipe out the money," he suggested.

"Really? That would be so kind of you, sir," I said, smiling broadly.

"But you have to do one thing," he added, causing my heart to race.

"And what would that be?" I asked cautiously.

"You have to marry my son," he dropped the bombshell.

"What?!" escaped my mouth. My heart ceased its beating momentarily, even though I continued breathing. It felt like a life sentence had just been handed to me. For the next 30 seconds, I sat immobile, grappling with the absurdity of the situation.

"Nah, I will not marry your son! It can't happen! I can't just up and marry your son. I mean, who still does arranged marriages in this era!? I can't marry someone I just met, not to talk of your son. He is literally a stranger," I ranted, finding the idea preposterous.

He chuckled. "I am 80% sure that you would fall in love with my son."

"No, sir. That is not happening," I boldly asserted.

"You know, you are bound by contract to marry my son," he revealed, showing me a paper. It outlined the clause that failure to pay the debt would result in the debtor's daughter marrying a relative of the creditor. I couldn't doubt him, seeing my father's complicated signature right under the clause. How could my father, my loving and ever-caring father, put me in such a precarious situation? Right now, my hands and legs were tied.

"I mean, if you didn't want to marry my son, and I decided to harvest –" he paused, "do you have good kidneys?" My horrified expression was all the confirmation he needed.

"If I decided to sell them... your organs, I mean, it still won't fetch me all my money," he explained matter-of-factly. "So the best thing to do is to marry my son," he concluded.

Before I could respond, his phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it. My body shook as I processed the information. How many bad news was I going to get in a day?

Suddenly, he returned. "I just got off the phone with my men. He said your grandpa had a heart attack. Though he is stable, he urgently needs a transplant. Now, Annabella, I can provide for him. I'll buy a donor and he will do the surgery. He will be good, but you have to say yes," he said, staring at me.

The mention of my grandpa shattered my world. If I don't say yes, I might have my only family to bury. I looked up at him, feeling utterly helpless.

"Annabella, remember you don't have to worry about the debt or the hospital bills for your grandpa. I will have that settled. All you need to do is marry my son and convince him to be the heir to my empire," he said.

"How will I do that?" I asked, resigned to my fate.

"Don't worry. Firstly, say yes to marrying my son," he instructed.

I sighed deeply and squeezed my eyes shut. On opening them, a tear slipped from my eyes. "Okay. I'll do it," I said in a small voice.

"Good, because the wedding is tomorrow by 9 am. Don't be late," and with that, he left the room.

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I was brought back to reality by a loud scream from people. People were running out of the church, one of them falling on the floor. Pandemonium ensued, and I noticed none of Mark's men or Mark himself was looking in my direction. I seized the moment, held my gown, and ran out of the church.

"Taxi!" I screamed with all my might, and one appeared. I swung the door open and got on. "St. Lucy's hospital," I told him, and he sped off. Glancing in the mirror, I saw the taxi driver giving me quizzical stares. Suppressing the urge to laugh, I remembered the money I had kept under my wig. The taxi driver would be wondering why a bride was running out of her wedding or where I was going to bring his money from. I recalled insisting on wearing a wig because only I knew my plans.

As soon as I spotted the hospital, I began taking off my wig. The taxi driver's eyes widened as I did so. I paid him and literally left the car while it was in motion. I burst into the hospital like a broken dam. The thousand eyes on me were the least of my problems. I stood, not knowing where to go next, as I didn't have my grandpa's room number or the name he was registered under. Then, I decided to inquire at the reception where patients of surgery were kept.

"Excuse me, please, where can I find patients in the recovery room?" I asked the receptionist, hoping for assistance.

"Recovery room?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Please, you have to help me. My grandpa was brought here. He had a heart surgery yesterday," I pleaded, but her expression showed she didn't understand. Undeterred, I decided to ask a doctor for more specific directions.

"Hi, doctor. Please, where can I find the recovery room?" I asked.

"Go upstairs and take your left," he replied. Thanking him hurriedly, I ran upstairs, still unsure which room to enter. A door suddenly opened, and a nurse came out. I saw my grandpa inside.

“Grandpa!" I shouted. The nurse attempted to stop me, but Grandpa intervened.

"Let her be! She is my granddaughter," he struggled to say. Witnessing his effort, the nurse and I rushed to his side.

"You shouldn't be forcing yourself; you just had surgery," she warned him.

"Grandpa, please be calm. I am here. I won't leave you," I reassured him, holding his hand. After checking on my grandpa, the nurse left the room with a warning that I shouldn't stress him.

"Grandpa, how are you? I have missed you. What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?" I bombarded him with questions. He closed his eyes, smiling.

"Calm down, Annabella. You ask a lot of questions. How will I answer all of them at once?" he said, still smiling.

I smiled too. "Alright, Grandpa, tell me how you are doing and what happened when they took me away?" I requested. My grandpa sighed, still smiling, as he recounted how those once harsh men in black gently carried him in another car to the hospital. They didn't leave his side until this morning, promising that I would come to visit him. I couldn't believe my ears. Those thugs who threatened to handle me roughly were nice to my grandpa? I didn't want to believe it, but I also couldn't think my grandpa was lying.

I helped him sit up and drink some water. Afterward, he cleared his throat, and I sensed he wanted to share something serious.

"Grandpa, are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm okay," he said, pausing before continuing. "You know, Annabella, I remember when your father needed money badly. He told me about the offer from the mafia, and I warned him not to take it."

"Really, Grandpa?" I asked.

"Yes. What I didn't know was that he had gone behind and taken the money. When I asked him where he got the money to set up his company, he lied, saying a friend had given him money," he said, smiling sadly. With his words, I grew quiet and cold. All the questions I had were stuck in my throat because the questions I had, I knew my grandpa couldn't answer. We stayed in complete silence until I decided to leave, promising to visit or call.

Once in front of the hospital, I spotted Mark and his men waiting. Rolling my eyes, I descended the stairs.

"I knew this is where you would be," Mark said. "Well, just so you know, the wedding holds," he declared. Suddenly, I found myself in a beautiful bedroom at night. I was in the Gilbert mansion, unable to sleep, deciding to have a glass of milk.