I cannot stand the sight of her

Racheal waited nervously the whole night and most part of the next morning for her father's return. 

As the president's daughter she understood politics, and could not share in the joy of her countrymen. 

This proposed marriage was no beautiful union or an example to emulate as the local and international media was making it out to be. 

She was sitting out on the balcony when she heard heavy boots approaching from within her room. 

She stood up in panic when she saw the white uniforms and black hats. Two men reached out and grabbed her arm, while the third man said,

"We are here to escort you Miss. Your father ordered you'd be brought up immediately." Racheal recognised him as the chief guard in charge of her father's personal security. 

"But I am not even properly dressed." She argued weakly as they half dragged her out from the balcony into her room. She had only grey shorts and a black tank top on. 

The men completely ignored her protests and practically marched her up to her father's suite in the villa. 

They opened the heavy gold doors and mildly pushed her in, but her flip flops caught in the carpet and she fell in, face first. 

She knew people were in the room, because the air felt thick with hostility. But no one uttered any words of sympathy or asked if she was ok. 

She dragged herself up and felt her ankle explode in pain. She bit her lips hard and stifled her groan. She slowly limped toward a seat and bowed in greeting to her father and then her step-mother. 

Her step-mother stood tall, leaning against the chair her father sat. 

Even now at almost forty five, she was slim, and had beautiful porcelain skin. She had a tall carriage and a beautiful face that was rumoured to have got her the position of her father's mistress. 

Well, till she became the legal wife, overthrowing her mother. 

She was looking at Rachel haughtily now, like she was some disgusting animal. Her father nodded in acknowledgment to her greeting.

"Sit." He said. "I called you all here for an important issue."

"Does she have to be here?" Her step-mother said, and both her daughter's faces mirrored their mother's disapproval. They hated sharing the same space with Racheal. 

"I suspect you saw the news on television before I got back." Her father continued, ignoring the interruption. 

He looked around the room, first at Claire, Celia and then Racheal. "I have promised my daughter in marriage to that President's only son. 

"Although I refrained from naming any one of you in particular, ideally that daughter should be you, Claire." He said looking directly at Claire who squirmed beneath his gaze. "You are my first child."

"No. My daughter cannot do that." Racheal's step-mother said fiercely, moving away from her husband. 

"And why is that?" He asked. Racheal realised he was playing games. Her father liked to act the democrat, giving everyone an option, a chance to share an opinion but will in the end do things the way he originally planned. 

"You know the upcoming marriage is just a sham. They need a hostage to keep, an important hostage so that our country behaves. We lost the war." Her step mother said. 

"We did not lose. We sued for peace."

"There's no difference. They need a hostage because they see us as weak, Roni."

"I am not stupid." Her father said, and she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. "And you will not tell me how to manage my country Roslyn." 

Her stepmother glared at him, then slowly bowed her head and kept quiet. 

"You will marry the president's son Racheal." He said, suddenly turning to her.

From her experience so far she should not have been surprised, but she was regardless. 

Did they hate her so much? 

They literally just said the other country needed a hostage decorated as a wife, and they were now choosing her instead of the eldest daughter. 

Claire and Celia saw the look on her face and began to giggle. 

"Don't look so distraught. It is more than an honour to do this for your family." Roslyn Rana said.

"Then why would you want to deprive your daughters of such honour?" Racheal found herself saying before she could stop. 

Roslyn marched across the room and smacked her hard across her cheek. 

"You will never speak to me in that manner." She said, looking at her with utter disgust.

"Why shouldn't I?" Racheal asked with watering eyes as her cheek stung. "What else is there to lose?" 

Roslyn smacked her again, this time her diamond ring cut through Racheal's skin. Her father only said. "We cannot give them a bride with a ruined face Roslyn."

"Nothing a little bit of make-up cannot cover." Her stepmother hissed.

"Why do you hate me so much, what did I ever do to you." Rachael was past caring. She had lost everything, her freedom, Maxwell, and she knew there was no way she could stop this marriage. 

But her stepmother ignored her.

"Is there anything else you want to tell her?" Roslyn asked, turning back to her husband. "I cannot stand the sight of her." 

He cleared his throat. "A doctor will come examine you tomorrow, they want a pure and chaste bride." Roni Rana said. Her stepmother returned her gaze to Racheal with a sneer.

"We can hope you have not sullied yourself?" She asked, the disgust on her face becoming deeper.

"Why? Because you fear children cannot possibly pass the test. As they are YOUR daughters." Racheal retorted. Offended and embarrassed that they would question something so private. 

Of all people who would regard her with disgust, Roslyn? An infamous mistress?

Racheal felt the blow on the side of head. Till date, she would never be able to tell what weapon her step-mother hit her with. 

Lights exploded in her eyes, she fell to the floor and passed out.