Sold to the evil

Prologue

Prologue
"The Deal Has Been Made"

.•*•.

"You will marry Ronald Rivera and be a dutiful wife to him, fulfilling your duty to this family and legacy," my father declares, disregarding the tears streaming down my face. My world crumbles before my eyes as my future is decided without my consent. I am being sold off for money, ensuring our family's financial security. Ignoring the rest of my father's speech, one sentence echoes in my mind, repeating endlessly.

The once comforting office now feels cold and dark, its darkness drawing me in. My gaze remains fixated on the dreadful marble floor as tears cascade down my cheeks, landing softly on my lap. I bite my inner cheek to stifle any sound, feeling as if the air has been sucked out of my lungs, leaving me breathless and devoid of will. The news settles in my mind, rendering me numb and unfeeling.

My father exits his office, leaving me behind. As soon as the door closes, I collapse into a sobbing mess. Pulling my knees close to my chest, I cling to them with all the strength I have left. Tears flow freely down my cheeks, disregarding the state of my makeup. The realization that I have been sold like an object shatters me, leaving me feeling unloved and discarded for my father's gain.

I lose track of time as I sit there in the dark, weeping uncontrollably. It is only when the door opens and my mother rushes in that I break my gaze from the marbled floor. She envelops me in a tight embrace, rocking me gently. I lack the strength to return the hug, my hands limp at my sides. I hear her silent tears and her whispers of apology, and I know I can trust her.

Her soothing words attempt to calm me, but my ears remain deaf to them. At this point, nothing can ease my pain. My life has crumbled, and there is no way to fix it. I have been sold by my father to a man known as the devil, a man who possesses everything and everyone. He owns this world, capable of doing anything without consequence. He could even get away with murder.

The terrifying reality of his actions, and the fact that no one can do anything about it, fills me with fear. Soon, I will be married to this man. Not only has my life ended, but my happiness, freedom, and choices have all been stripped away as if they were inconsequential. Though in my mother's arms, I find no solace, for she knows there is no way to undo what has been done. The deal has been made, signed by my father and my future husband, sending shivers down my spine.

Most people would try to find a silver lining in this situation, believing that love could change even the cruelest man. They might imagine a romantic ending where both parties fall in love and transform for the better. But I am not like most people, and such fantasies are nothing more than illusions that will never come true.

My mother's embrace manages to calm me to some extent, reducing my sobs to hiccups and slowing the flow of salty tears. However, I remain silent, a stark contrast to my usual self who cannot stop talking. Thoughts usually spill out of my mind without restraint, yet now I find myself devoid of words, knowing that anything I say would be inconsequential.

Everything has been taken from me. I have no say in what lies ahead, destined to become the property of a man whose sole purpose is to inflict suffering and relish in it. No one has ever seen him smile, leading people to wonder if the ruthless businessman is even capable of such an expression. "It will be alright, I promise," my mother whispers, the only sentence I manage to hear amidst her attempts to comfort me.

The office door slams open as my father rushes in, surprising both my mother and me. Though I remain seated, my mother holds me tighter, unwilling to let go, and I share her sentiment. Worry and anxiety etch his face, while sorrow and anger fill his eyes. He looks at me, and I see disgust reflected in his gaze. "Make her presentable, he's here," he says before leaving, and more tears stream down my face. I am about to come face to face with the devil.

.•*•.

Chapter 1

"Encountering Him for the First Time"

.•*•.

From that moment on, everything became a blur. It was as if time had halted, leaving only the people around me in motion. I was oblivious to the fact that my mother and a few maids had stripped me of my clothing, hastily tossing me into the shower to cleanse my entire body, while I stood there, devoid of any emotion, feeling as if life had been drained from me. I had a life before, but now it seemed to have been cruelly snatched away, leaving me feeling like a mere shell of my former self.

My mind failed to grasp reality as they dressed me in a dress and styled my hair and makeup, which I had inadvertently ruined with my ceaseless tears. At some point, I had started crying again, and the tears showed no signs of abating. My head throbbed from the strain of my sobs, but that was the least of my concerns. The tears continued to flow, even when my eyes had run dry. I hadn't even registered my mother's attempts to console and comfort me, nor did I want to. They acted as though everything taken from me was normal, while I had just lost everything I held dear.

With the saddest expression etched upon my face, tears streaming down my cheeks, and eyes filled with an overwhelming sadness that grew more emotionless with each passing minute, I stood before the door leading to the living room. On the other side of that door awaited the man who had just purchased me, here to inspect his new acquisition and determine if I was suitable enough for him. The man who would become my future husband. I hated that word. He wasn't my future husband; he was my future owner.

And I? I was nothing more than a toy he had bought to be used, discarded once he had finished with me. I had no idea what would become of me once he was through, but I imagined I would be cast aside like any other object an owner no longer desired. My mother opened the door, pushing me inside before closing it firmly behind me. I stood by the door, gazing down at the ground, tears silently falling from my eyes to the floor below. I could hear his footsteps as he rose from his seat and approached me, his footsteps mingling with my sobs, becoming the only audible sounds in the room.

"Look at me," he said softly yet powerfully. Even standing before me, his shoes in my line of sight, I could feel the intensity radiating from him. Those three words alone sent shivers down my spine, causing me to tremble. Slowly, I raised my head, meeting his gaze. His piercing emerald green eyes bore into mine, his face devoid of emotion, much like mine, albeit with a harder, angrier edge.

His unwavering stare felt as though it were burning a hole through my skull, threatening to topple me to the ground, not only from the weight of his gaze but also from the exhaustion weighing heavily upon my body. He drew nearer, and instinctively, I backed away until I was pressed against the door. He came so close that I could feel his breath caress my face. An overwhelming discomfort washed over me. "You will not cry in public. I don't care what you do within these walls, but when we are out, you will act as the wife I require, refraining from gossiping about me to others. In fact, you will not engage in conversation with anyone," he declared.

As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on mine. His knee brushed against mine, causing me to feel lightheaded. "There will be rules, and you will be expected to obey them. Never forget, I own you..." he trailed off before stepping away and exiting the room, leaving me to crumple to the ground, a sobbing mess with salty tears still staining my cheeks.

I have no idea how long I remained curled up against the door, abandoned and unnoticed by anyone. The room gradually grew darker, only illuminated by the fading daylight slipping through the windows. At this point, darkness seemed more welcoming than the light. In just one day, I had not only lost my life but everything I held dear. I never wanted to enter into marriage in this manner, or perhaps any marriage at all. In my mind, marriage had always felt like a prison, and now I found myself trapped within its confines, destined never to be set free.

That is all I will become—merely a wife locked away, or perhaps not even a wife at all. I will be nothing more than a possession, owned by a man who believes he possesses the world, his cruelty knowing no bounds. He will have the power to do as he pleases with me, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. The thought breaks my heart further, and I succumb to another bout of tears, feeling myself slowly unraveling with each passing moment. There is no hope left to hold myself together.

Finding any semblance of happiness in this situation is something I refuse to do. None of this was what I desired, and I am being coerced into actions I have no desire to partake in. To expect me to accept and be content with this is unacceptable, for none of this was my choice, nor was it of my own free will. I am devoid of autonomy. I possess nothing anymore.

Chapter 2

"He orchestrated the wedding."

.•*•.

I couldn't tell how long I had been sprawled on the floor, but at some point, I must have drifted off into a fitful slumber. When I finally roused, my mother was shaking my limp body. "You need to get up now, there's a dress fitting in just an hour," she uttered without a hint of compassion before walking away, denying me the embrace I so desperately craved. I had hoped that this nightmare would dissipate upon awakening, but reality cruelly persisted.

No words escaped my lips in her presence, nor as I rose to my feet. It felt as though my mouth had been sealed shut, rendering me incapable of speaking or even making a sound. Navigating my way to the bedroom proved arduous, my legs seemingly devoid of strength and my body drained of vitality. At this moment, I felt nothing, and that was precisely what they had taken from me, along with everything else. Maids entered the room, appraising me with their eyes before leading me to the bathroom to fix my makeup. They made no effort to coax me into taking a shower or changing into different clothes.

I felt like a mere puppet, manipulated and toyed with by everyone around me. Gazing into the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The once vibrant and joy-filled eyes now appeared hollow and devoid of emotion, my cheeks stained with dried and fresh tears. There was no trace of life or happiness left in my countenance. In the span of a single day, I had lost my identity and everything I once was, all because I had been sold to the devil. They applied makeup, masking my misery.

They succeeded in making me appear beautiful, and on any other day, I might have felt beautiful. But today, after learning about the impending forced union, I felt neither beautiful nor did I believe I looked beautiful. They hurried me to the front doors, where my mother awaited. In silence, she led me to the car. Neither of us spoke as the driver navigated us towards a store to purchase the wedding dress. The concept of a wedding dress had never crossed my mind before.

I was never the girl who daydreamed about her wedding, envisioning the dress or Prince Charming. That was never me, and even now, I couldn't summon any dreams. Yet, now I was being coerced into doing so. "You're lucky. You only have to choose the dress. He's taken care of everything. No need to stress over the wedding," my mother suddenly remarked. I knew I was getting married, but I couldn't even plan my own wedding. I had to remind myself that it was meant to be my wedding, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like my death, as I had previously stated.

The truth was, I didn't really care that he was making all the decisions. Why didn't he just choose the dress as well? It made no sense for him to plan everything and then leave the dress selection up to me. Then again, he probably had no knowledge of dresses or weddings. I suspect my mother was simply relieved that he was footing the bill, paying for everything, and essentially paying for me. It seemed that was all my parents cared about now. Even my own mother.

The one person I believed was on my side had turned against me for the sake of money. He must have offered them a substantial sum to subject me to this torment. And now, they didn't even want to spend that money on their own daughter, the daughter they would lose after... I didn't even know when. I didn't know anything about this situation in which I found myself. "You will learn to love him," my mother persisted, assuring me that if this marriage succeeded, they would continue to receive financial support.

For now, that was all I was—a means for them to secure their future through my union with him. Yes, they had received a hefty sum before the wedding, and they would continue to receive money from him every week. But loving a man who was essentially paying to have me married to him wasn't what I desired. Then again, when had anyone ever asked me what I wanted in this arrangement? I wouldn't even be the one selecting the dress; that task fell upon my mother.

She would revel in that store, while I stood emotionless and alone, as I had done for the past day. Not that anyone had noticed, too preoccupied with enriching themselves through my sale to a man I hardly knew. I had met him once, and it hadn't been pleasant. The car came to a halt, and my mother dragged me into the wedding dress store. As soon as she stepped inside, she began searching for the perfect dress. I felt the urge to cry again, even though my eyes had run out of tears.

Chapter 3

"The wedding is tomorrow," the words hung in the air, heavy with a sense of dread and despair. Tomorrow, the day that would forever mark the beginning of my worst nightmare. It was only today, during a dress fitting with my mother, that I learned of this impending doom. Being the wealthiest man in the world may have its advantages, but this was an unimaginable consequence. My voice, once so strong and vibrant, had been silenced. There was no one to listen, no one who truly cared about my wishes.

My friends were consumed by their own lives, and my boyfriend, or rather, ex-boyfriend now that I was on the verge of marriage, seemed like a distant memory. I hadn't even had the opportunity to speak to him, unsure of how to approach the subject. He had always been my rock, the sweetest and most caring person I had ever known. Despite our relationship never reaching physical intimacy, our love was undeniable. He treated me like royalty, making me feel like a princess.

I knew he would eventually discover the truth, and I hoped desperately that he would find it in his heart to forgive me. I longed for the chance to explain the circumstances that had led me to this point, though I myself struggled to comprehend the chaos surrounding me. Confusion suffocated me, leaving me breathless and incapable of functioning. Perhaps I was overthinking, but this was my life being thrust into the hands of a stranger. How could anyone not feel the weight of such a burden? It was simply unbearable.

There was no silver lining to be found in this predicament. Returning to my room, exhaustion weighed heavily upon me. Opening the door, I was met with the sight of my little sister, Melody, perched on my bed. "Melody, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice foreign to my ears. I mustered a feeble smile, shielding her from the pain that consumed me. She believed my act, unaware of the turmoil within.

"Mommy said you were sad, and when I'm sad, you hug me. So now, I'll hug you," she declared, launching herself into my arms. I dropped to her level, embracing her tightly. She couldn't possibly comprehend how much I needed this, a hug devoid of guilt unlike the ones from my mother. In her eyes, I saw both remorse and greed. "Thank you," I whispered, a single tear escaping my right eye and tracing a path down my cheek.

Clearing my throat, I composed myself. "Why don't you go join your brother in the toy room?" I suggested, desperate to shield her from witnessing my breakdown. I couldn't allow myself to crumble before her or any of my other siblings. As the eldest, I strived to be the best sister they could have. "Okay, see you later," she chirped, skipping out of the room towards the toy-filled haven.

Alone once more, I collapsed onto my bed, clutching my pillow tightly. The day was far from over, yet weariness consumed me. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that plagued me, but a mental and emotional fatigue that surpassed all else. Sleep had evaded me the previous night, and the uncomfortable position I had managed to rest in left my muscles aching. However, such physical discomfort paled in comparison to the anguish that gripped my heart and soul.

Numbness spread throughout my being, seeping into every fiber of my body, heart, and soul. The reality of the situation was unfathomable. Tomorrow, this nightmare would become my reality, whether I was prepared or not. But truth be told, I was never prepared for this. The shock had engulfed me like nothing before, leaving me unsure of how to calm the storm raging within me. My father had lectured me on becoming a dutiful wife, fulfilling every desire of my future husband. Yet, this notion felt inherently wrong to me. Marriage was meant to be an equal partnership, founded on respect and care.

To me, love was at the core of any marriage. But what I faced now was not love. Society's obsession with wealth had driven my family to take desperate measures. They believed there was no other option but to sell off their eldest daughter to the highest bidder, who happened to be the richest man in the world. In this twisted reality, divorce was not even a possibility, as he held power over the legal system. If I were to be mistreated, I would be powerless to seek justice. Once married, I would belong to him, whether I liked it or not. And, truthfully, I was terrified.

Chapter 4

"The Wedding"

Part 1

.•*•.

The wedding looms just a few hours away, and from the moment I was abruptly awoken (not that I was ever truly asleep), they have been subjecting me to their whims. I was yanked out of bed and thrust into the shower, where they scrubbed every inch of my body, meticulously cleaning my hair and skin. Without my consent, they shaved my legs, armpits, and intimate areas. My opinion has never held any weight, after all.

I fought back tears, resisting the overwhelming urge to crumble to the ground and weep. It didn't matter who witnessed my tears or how harshly they judged me. They weren't being forced to do something against their will, unlike me. I pleaded and begged them not to go through with this, but each time, I was silenced. Even my own parents turned a blind eye. The only people I believed I could trust in this world. Trust I no longer possess.

Once they finished cleaning me, they forced me into a white lace bra and matching panties, followed by a nightgown - a precursor to the wedding dress I would later wear. The maids remained silent throughout, and I reciprocated by withholding my words. Talking felt futile. Since yesterday evening, my mother has drilled into me the lines I'm expected to recite in the church.

There will be no vows, for what purpose do vows serve when you don't even know the person you're marrying? Vows are meant for true love, and it's abundantly clear that there is no love between him and me. I can't say for certain if love will ever exist between us. Ronald Rivera may be handsome, perhaps the most attractive man I've ever laid eyes on, but that doesn't mean I'll fall in love with him. If he had pursued me in a different way, perhaps I would have considered it.

But then again, I was already in a relationship with the most incredible man. He never deserved me to begin with. I've never been one for romance, but he was my boyfriend, and I did care for him. I still haven't mustered the courage to tell him, though he's likely seen the news. His incessant texts throughout the day and night reveal his sadness, hidden between the lines. The weight of his sorrow, combined with my own, threatens to consume me entirely.

He isn't the only one reaching out to me during this time. My friends have discovered the impending wedding, and most of them express happiness for me or comment on how fortunate I am to marry the richest man in the world. They congratulate me on navigating this situation successfully. Not once do they inquire about my feelings, about how I truly feel about any of this. Their lack of consideration stings. They knew I was already committed to someone else, and yet it feels as though I've betrayed him. They were aware of my desires.

Now, it seems they no longer care. Of course, they have their own lives to attend to, but a little support would be appreciated. As far as I know, no one is taking into account my emotions, the pain that courses through me. Even my younger siblings remain oblivious to my true desires; all they know is that I am getting married. They are unaware of the full story, and I pray they never have to discover what has been forced upon me. With every fiber of my being, I pray this fate never befalls them.

"The makeup artist has arrived," my mother announces, breaking my solitude in the kitchen. I had been nibbling on small cookies to appease my empty stomach. They offered me more, but I lacked the appetite. Eating is the last thing on my mind. My stomach churns, mirroring the turmoil within me. My mother leads me to the bathroom, where I'm seated in front of the mirror, the makeup artist commencing his work on my face. I gaze into the mirror, but it's as if I'm looking through myself. I still notice the emptiness in my eyes, reflecting the hollowness of my emotions. I've lost count of how long I've sat here, but with each passing minute, my anxiety for this coerced marriage intensifies.

This nervousness isn't akin to the typical jitters a bride might experience. I'm nervous because today marks my final day of freedom, though the concept feels foreign at the moment. I'm nervous because the man I'm to marry is someone I don't want to marry, and truthfully, I don't want to be married at all. I'm nervous because my life will never be the same again. I'm nervous because happiness will forever elude me. I'm nervous because everything I once cherished is being ripped away from me, all because I'm being sold off to the devil himself. In just two hours, I will become Ronald Rivera's wife.

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