Chapter 3: New Home

Pamela's Point of View

The sterile smell of disinfectant fills my nostrils, and I sit here in the dimly lit corridor of the hospital, staring off at the beige walls. Quiet beeping of medical machinery and the minimum shuffling of feet move into a rhythmic background to my tattered nerves. My sister Joana is lying unconscious in one of those rooms, her condition critical from the accident. I can't process the fear and worry wanting to strangle me.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me from my reverie. I glance down at the screen to find a message from my father, Tristan Jones.

[I can help with the hospital bills. I’m in the hospital.]

I stare for a long time at the message.

I've had a pretty complicated relationship with my father, ever since his new life with his new wife and two new daughters made it clear my sister and I were no longer priorities in his life. That sense of betrayal still burns.

I see him walking down the hall toward me, his face a mask of resolution and reluctance. He is in a crisp suit, but it does little to disguise the fatigue in his eyes.

"Pamela," he starts off, so firm yet without any warmth. “I've arranged for the hospital to cover Joana's bills. I'll also be here to oversee her treatment.”

I nod, unable even to say anything more than a simple "Thank you" in reply. His presence here feels so foreign, a high-handed reminder of how disconnected we have become. I can't help but feel a twinge of bitterness. The man who once abandoned us in our time of need is now swooping in with his help. Still, I am grateful for the support, no matter how begrudgingly it comes.

"Don't mistake this for anything more than what it is," he says, his tone colder than I recall. "I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do."

"I understand," I reply, my voice clipped. "I'm just… thankful."

He nods curtly and turns away, leaving me with my thoughts. My resentment toward him is so twisted, tangled into both gratitude and anger. My mother's death had shattered our family, and my father's subsequent remarriage further sent us far away from each other. I still can remember that fateful night when she died, she was fighting a long battle with illness, and my father did not support her at all, leaving her to struggle on her own. Her death was due to his negligence, something that I find very hard to forgive.

A few hours later, my stomach protests with growls. I get off to find food, taking a temporary break from the oppressive atmosphere of this place. Outside, I take in the cooler night air and head for a nearby diner.

As I approach the entrance, some men in dark suits circle around me. It is sudden and intimidating; before I even react, they forcefully drag me into a sleek black car. My heart pounds in my chest as I struggle with them, but it's futile. The car speeds away from the hospital and sends me straight into panic mode.

The back door opens to expose the inside of the car, where I see the man I met last night, calmly seated opposite to me. The mere sight of him sends a fresh wave of anger and despair through my already-outraged heart. He wears that smug expression on his face as if it is some birthright, and the mere sight makes my blood boil.

"Let me out!" I say furiously, shaking all over. "What do you want with me?"

His eyes are cold, calculated, regarding me with an unsettling calmness. "You're not going anywhere, Pamela. You've been sold by your father. This is part of our arrangement."

"What?!" I exclaim, shock hitting me like a physical blow. "You can't be serious! This is insane!”

He leans back in his seat, lighting a cigarette with an indifferent flick of his wrist. "I'm dead serious. Your father needed me and was willing to make a deal. Now you're here with me, about to finalize things."

I stare at him, my mind racing. The weight of the situation weighs more and more with each passing second. I just can't fathom my dad actually doing this to me, can't fathom why this man would even want me.

"You think this is a joke?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level and not shake with fear. "You think you can just buy me like some commodity?”

The smirk on his face spreads a little. "This is no joke, Pamela. This is business. Your father decided to make a choice, now you're bound to deal with the consequences.”

A wave of determination and desperation wells up inside me. I must find a way out of it, come what may. But as I look at him, I know I am not going to go anywhere. His cold demeanor and ruthlessness make it clear he's not a man to be easily outmaneuvered.

The car pulls up to a grand estate, and his eyes flare toward the mansion with an air of ownership.

As I am dragged out of the car, my head is filled with thoughts of escape and a fight that lies ahead. Events of the callous decision by my father have put me in a despicable situation.

Before me, the mansion rises, dripping in opulence, while inside me, there is chaos. I have no choice but to stay upright.

"Welcome to your new home," he says, and the tone is almost mocking.