Chapter Three: Rachael

The following morning, we were gathered in the living room, sitting around the armchair with our eyes fixed on my father.

He had informed my mother about the morning, which she announced to us on the "secret" family group chat, which my father wasn't a member of.

"Dad, I have a full schedule. What's going on?" Joshua was the first to speak up because he knew how to deal with my father.

My mother and I remained silent while staring at them.

"It's good news for the family." My father began, exhaling sharply.

"That's nice." We nodded in agreement.

"Rachael." He suddenly called me, and I lifted my brows. "You're getting married." He spilled bluntly, and we gasped in shock.

"Honey?" My mother's eyes were permeated with questioning, with her rhetorical voice filtering in the air.

"But… Rachael has a boyfriend." Joshua reminded him neutrally, and I shook my head.

"We broke up," I said. "But Dad, I can't get married now. I'm still getting over Patrick and have other responsibilities aside from marriage." I tried to explain to him cautiously, and he rolled his eyes at me in disgust.

"I would have cared about this in the past, but it's not necessary." He stood up. "We aren't discussing it further. Get prepared; you shall meet with your husband on your wedding day." He said it coldly and attempted to leave, but my mother grabbed him by the arm.

"You can't push my daughter away like a commodity. What's going on? Who is this man?" My mother questioned me anxiously with a voice filled with hurt.

"He is a good man." My father said this seriously before shoving her hand away.

I sighed heavily as my eyes started gathering tears. It was hard to move on at this stage and also get married to someone I didn't know. I knew this time would come, as it happens in many Mafia homes, but I thought my father would make an exception, but it was the opposite.

He has auctioned me off like a product that has been waiting for the past eighteen years of my life to be sold.

"Rachael…" My brother's voice was filled with hurt as he tapped my shoulder. I tried not to look weak and emotional.

"I will leave for work then." I squeezed out a smile, inwardly trying to rein in those tears that were about to let it all out.

"And breakfast?" My mother's sad voice came up, and I shook my head without facing her direction.

"I will skip it." I grabbed my handbag and left the room.

My days can never get better. I was thinking about how to get over Patrick, and here comes another annoying deal.

Getting married to a man I have no idea who he was and was only allowed to see him on my wedding day.

"Wonderful Dad." I grinned as I pulled open the door of the mall.

The staff in the mall maintained their distance and didn't communicate with me as frequently as they usually do because my mood wasn't friendly at all.

Rather than keeping it all in, I decided to drown my sorrow in liquor, and Sandra was the perfect partner to be wasted with.

Sandra met me at the bar when I had already drunk about three bottles.

She gasped in shock at seeing my state.

"Babe! Why are you this way?" She cried out bitterly. "You are never the alcoholic type." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Sandra, I'm done for." That was the only word I could profess because I was broken and helpless.

She massaged my hands with her eyes fixed on me; she was willing to listen to me, which comforted me a bit.

I narrated the entire incident to Sandra while she listened with keen attention and joined me in drinking.

"What to do?" I finally asked with curiosity, lancing my weak eyes.

"Accept it," Sandra said vividly, and my gaze widened.

"Your life has been useless and lonely." She paused and adjusted closer to me. "You have been having a simple, uneventful day since Patrick left. This is your only chance to move on." She urged me.

"But I don't know him." I swallowed hard while she scoffed almost immediately.

"Who cares? At least it was arranged by your father." She curled her lips and gulped the alcohol.

Sandra was right. My father knew best, and he wouldn't push me into hell.

It was going to be a tough decision for me to make. Getting married was more like submitting entirely to another man.

What if he doesn't love me?

I had some inner worries as I continued drinking in silence.

For me, I knew for sure that the next day would take care of itself.

I thought I could remain hot-headed and make a decision without my father's influence, but I saw reasons to accept without complaint.

Reality hit me when Patrick strolled into my mall with another woman. He was shopping for another woman in his ex-girlfriend's shop, and he acted differently, as if he had no idea who I was.

My heart shrank and ached no matter who tried to take the thought off my mind. 

"Pat..." It wasn't easy to throw away the feelings I once had for him.

He faced me with his hand wrapped across the lady's waist, and she giggled at my sight.

"Rachael. Can I help you?" His voice was so cold and emotionless that it only made me embarrassed.

Why did I call him? I would have watched in pain rather than gaining his attention.

"Well, since you are here... He broke my reverie. "Get my girlfriend something good to wear for our date." Patrick said it boldly, without having any slight respect for me.

That was when I took the bold step.

I returned him and stepped into the living room where my parents and brother were. They were watching the evening news but faced me immediately after they noticed me.

"I have to do this. I must do this." I battled inwardly while biting my lips. I wanted to show Patrick that I could also move on in a bigger way and live without him.

"Father," I began. "I'm ready," I said seriously, staring at my father intently.

My mother's jaw dropped, and my brother was staring at me in a dilemma, wondering where the force was coming from.