Til Death... [Chan]

1

There were lots of times that I wished I'd been born a boy. I wished I could walk alone at night without fearing for my life. I wished I could take a piss on the side of the road on my way to the bar instead of being forced to wait in a 20-minute line to pee in a bathroom stall with a clogged toilet, a tampon on the ground, and no toilet paper. Sometimes, I even wished I could go around topless.

Yes, there were many times I craved the privileges men were adorned with at birth. Yet none of those instances even came close to how badly I wanted to have been born a boy today.

Tomorrow...simply because I had been born a woman...I am being forced to marry the son of my parents' rivals. Both of our families owned large hotel chains that flourished across the world. Both of our families had enough money to colonize Mars and kept all of it for themselves to fund private lunches in Tokyo after breakfast Paris and whatever else they found worthy of their fortune. Both of our families had also decided last spring that they wanted a merger so they could take in even more profits and gain access to each other's client portfolios.

But neither family trusted the other, so of course they needed some permanent proof the other wouldn't back out. Of course, they'd had a son just a year before my family had a daughter. And of course, neither of us had gotten married yet.

And so, in October of this year when the deal was at its tipping point with each family struggling to concede their wants to the other, they decided they should become a solitary unit. Our money would become theirs. Their money would become ours. And seeing as money was the most important thing to both of them, it was a big deal that we were each going to be granted access to a second bottomless pit of cash.

With the families' businesses connected in holy matrimony (just like God intended), they hoped to be able to put egos aside to make the merger official. It mattered little to them that they were tying me to this stranger for the rest of my life. It didn't matter that I hadn't even had a single conversation with him. Nope, they couldn't have cared less that I had no desire to run a hotel chain or even (at present) be a wife.

The decision had been made without my consideration. They had told me repeatedly that I should've been grateful that I was being given such an upstanding and wealthy man. I should've groveled to the ground and begged to marry him sooner as many women were apparently vying for his attention.

I'd seen photos of him, of course, and I wasn't blind. He was very stereotypically handsome. But he knew it. He knew it, and he was cocky and arrogant about it. How many gym selfies did a person need to post? For what reason could he possibly have to share close-ups of his abs almost daily? We get it...you work out. Get a personality already.

My parents thought I'd come around if they continued to show me images of this stranger, but how could I? I knew nothing of his character. I'd been told nothing of his hobbies...or his accolades... or even his interests (besides his own body).

It had been a grueling 52 days since my parents had told me of the plan. I'd begged every day to be released from this contract they'd made on my behalf, but they'd all but chained me in place with my legs spread open wide for him.

And so the day had come. Tomorrow, I'd become Mrs. Bang. I'd smile proudly beside my husband and tell everyone how lucky I was to have been chosen by him. I'd become a typical wife as that was what was expected of me. I'd cook and clean and bear his children. I'd kiss him when he came home from work and serve him meals with a smile.

The more I thought about it, the sicker I became. I gagged and rushed to the toilet, nearly vomiting up the dinner I'd made myself. My last meal of freedom...an entire chocolate cake and two Shirley temples.

I smiled as I recalled my mother's face when she had walked into the kitchen having caught me devouring the very last bit of it.

"Ophelia!" she'd gasped as she slapped my arm. "You won't fit into your dress now!"

"Good," I had gurgled with my mouth full of icing.

"Do you not understand how important this union is for your father and me? We will become billionaires. You will become a billionaire," she had shouted. I'd grown sick of hearing their reasons for having me do this, though.

My love couldn't be bought, but it had been sold anyway.

"Do you not understand that you've just handed over my life to the highest bidder?" I had argued. "Actually, just the first bidder. Am I not at least worthy of a counteroffer," I'd grown cynical and was unable to be kind to her or my father anymore.

"Stop with the dramatics, Ophelia," she had rolled her eyes. "Do you realize how many women would love to be in your shoes? He's a handsome, sought-after man."

"I don't care. I don't know him," I had reminded her. I had then tossed my fork and plate into the sink filled with soapy and dirty water and watched as it splashed her.

She had glared at me with more hate than a mother should be able to drum up for their only child. "You will come to know him. And so help me God Ophelia, if you do anything to jeopardize this deal..." She had ground her teeth as she wagged a finger at me. She didn't need to finish the sentence. I'd been threatened enough in the last few weeks to know what was coming if I didn't submit to their plan.

And so now I stood in my bathroom, facing the mirror and debating chopping off my hair. At present, it was long and silky smooth. It had taken great efforts to grow it out so healthily, but I didn't want to look pretty for him. I wanted to chop it into a million different lengths and show up looking like I'd fought a wood chipper tomorrow. I held the scissors to the first strand and the door to my room swung open.

"Ophelia Marie Sinclair, hand me the fucking scissors this instant!" I heard my mother shout.

Terrified of what she'd do if I disobeyed, I turned them over to her. Once they were in her hand, she used her empty palm to strike my cheek.

"Go to bed. You will be up at 7 tomorrow."

I took slow, reluctant steps toward my mattress. It would be the last time I ever slept here. My mother stood in the doorway and waited until the comforter was secured over my body before flicking off the lights.

"The door stays open tonight since you cannot be trusted to do as you're told," she asserted.

I heard the click-clack of her heels fading as she retreated down the hall. Once they were out of earshot, I began to sob.

It was my last night with my own name as my own person, and all I could do was cry.

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This entire book is happening because of a comment left by Allie_Loves_Freckles  on Fan Service so hope you all enjoy!