CHAPTER TWO: THE PSYCHO RETURNS

ELORA’S POV

“Get out!” I heard my Father thunder.

“You cannot do this to me, Father. You have to help me-”

“Help! I told you never to return if anything goes wrong!” He pointed out in a firm voice.

“But this isn't my fa-”

“If you can’t even keep a man, then how can I leave all these for you?” He said in utmost disgust. “Get out, Elora. Get out of my sight!” He ordered his eyes away from the files stacked on his desk.

A slight frown caressed his face, deepening the wrinkles that were evidence of his aging.

“I don't cage dogs! I am your da—”

“Security, to my office now. I have an intruder here.” He spoke into the intercom before looking towards me again.

“Father, you can't do this. You are overreacting. I’m not even the one at fault here. He-”

“Really!! Do you have any idea of what you just cost me? Cost my company?” He roared, slamming his fist on the desk as he rose. “If you have a bad memory, then I will remind you. Boaz is the reason why we are here. He is the reason the company still stands. All you had to do was take everything in like a good girl for the company's sake. But no!” He paused, his fingers running nervously through his hair. “You had to ruin everything. Every single top client we have is pulling out. Twenty, Elora! Twenty clients and still counting, and you say I am overreacting!” He completed, clenching his teeth.

My heart sank deeply because I could tell how much the company meant to him, and I understood everything well, but regardless, I was supposed to be his priority. Not just a means of keeping his company alive.

“I’m sure we can figure something out. I can have a meeting with them and talk to them abo-”

“Never! Just leave, Elora. You have done more than enough damage.”

Now, he was pacing around.

“No, Dad. I have nowhere to go. I have nothing-”

My words trailed off as the door flew open, and two hefty guards stormed in.

“You called, Sir.”

“Get her out of this company, and she is never allowed to return here.” He ordered, his voice too cold for a Man who had just melted such punishment on his only child.

“Father, no, you can't- Please.” I let out, my eyes starting to well with tears while my voice quivered.

I could almost smell the blood oozing from the cut in my heart. The wound deepened the moment he turned around, ignoring my plea.

“Please exit the building, Ma,” Fred said, and I let the tears out.

“Free, don’t listen to Father. He is just kidding. I’m sure. Father will never…” My voice cracked, my throat hurting. “Father will never do this to me.”

That was what I wanted to believe.

“Don’t just stand there and gossip like little kids! Carry her out of here. No child of mine will taint my carefully built image.” With this, he turned to stare me in the eyes, “I never taught you to sleep around, and I refuse to accept such. Take her out now or lose your jobs!” He thundered, and I felt their arms wrapped around mine as they lifted me off the floor.

More tears flow down.

“It's not what you think, Father. I promise I can explain-” I yelled aloud, watching the door slam in my face.

But I don’t give up. I was kicking as I struggled to get down. However, their grips are too strong. Heads turned towards me as they carried me out. Their questioning eyes. Their hateful gazes. They're moving lips as they formed like they were the holiest. I couldn't understand why Father was doing this to me. It was either as a punishment or…

“Father, please…” I quieted, my eyes now hurting from the endless crying.

They let me off, letting my plea fall on deaf ears as they slammed the door in my face.

I could hear the cameras clicking from behind, but I didn't turn around. Of late, I have had too many pictures of myself in the news. ‘The Wife Who Got Cheated on’ ‘Boaz Johnson tricked into marrying the former heiress of Harry G&G Company’ and numerous others that, at this point, I was tired of revisiting, so I made a mental note to get off social media till everything gets better.

Shading my face with the scarf I had brought along, I headed towards my car, ignoring the constant questions they threw my way as they tailed my every movement.

“Is it true that you throw yourself at every man you meet? I even heard that one of them came to confront Mr. Boaz.”

I halted, biting my lower lips as I squirted my eyes a little. I had known that psycho would be a problem later on. My blood boiled hot at the words and the urge to snap at her engulfed me. Squeezing my palms into fists, I clenched my teeth hard.

Funny how I wasn't in the best position to add another scandal to the ones piled up.

“I’m afraid Miss Elora is old enough to make her choices.” A familiar masculine voice let out, causing a soft gasp to roll past my lip as I tilted my head around to watch him stroll towards me.

More clicks. And that only meant more news.

He halted right before me, my blood boiling to the core.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you have no job? Are you a stalker? How come—”

“Hold on! Take a deep breath, and let me take it one question at a time. My name is Orson Wilson, and yes, I have a job. It’s nothing much, though, but it at least puts food on the table, sometimes—” He trailed, arching his brows before chuckling a little.

I stared hard at him for a while, wondering if this was just another set-up by Boaz. Another means of denting my image some more. After all, this wasn't his first time.

“What do you want?”

“You.” He responded firmly as though he had been expecting the question. “Marry me, Elora. Let me save you.”

As the last words rolled off his lips, I let out a dry laugh.

“And what do I need saving from?” I questioned and watched him pull his lips apart as though he was about to confess.

“With time, you will know, Lora. For now, you need me, and I want you. So what do you say?” He lets out in a rasped breath.

Unsettlingly, silence lingered in the air for a long while as I thought hard. After all, what did I have to lose?

Maybe your dignity.

The voice in my head replied, but I paid it no heed.

Whether I took this offer or not, my dignity was dented as it is.

“Deal! When is the wedding?”

*****

Fuck!!

What was I thinking when I accepted? Why did you not think this through?

Well, it was too late now because I was standing before the elderly priest, dressed in the white gown we had gotten at the nearest shop. While my groom remained in his White shirt and Green pants. Regardless of what he wore, he looked as cute as ever. He had the looks of a hot model.

It was weird how he had agreed to marry me so quickly. Just like Boaz had promised, his lawyer had showed up barely two hours later to hand me the divorce papers. It was almost like he had it all planned out.

Managing to hold back the hurt in my heart, I appended my signature and immediately handed it to him.

The voice in my head kept reminding me that this was a wrong decision—just a means to hurt Boaz, too.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Different scenarios crossed my mind. Things my groom could be: a killer, a kidnapper, a trafficker. But despite my brain sending me warning signals, I still push it all away. All I wanted right now was just somewhere far away from the world.

This good-looking man, right here, was my ticket away from the world.

Luckily, he wasn't famous or rich. He was just a random guy who could afford some things. I prefer that better, Boaz.

Men with wealth irritated me to the core.

Father had always called me a fool for wanting the life of an ordinary man. Own a bakery and grow my career as a baker.

“You are destined for more. Something greater.” He would say.

“Do you, Elora Amoh, take Orson Wilson as your legal husband?” The priest questioned.

Silence engulfed me as I stared at him. The man I was getting married to. A man whom I felt nothing for. Not one ounce of love.

Love…

That I doubted even existed, except in books.

“Yes.” I finally let out and watched Orson’s brows flatten to show his relief.

“Do you, Orson Wilson—“

“Yes, yes, just get this over with.” He ordered, his face expressionless.

Soon, we were walking out of the church, the only one we had found in three hours of driving, barely holding hands, acting like the strangers we were.

“Now that we are married, what next?” I threw at him as we stood close to his car. I had left mine back at my Father’s company.

Maybe it's not such a good idea.

I asked myself the question, too, and I found no answer.

“My rules. Time for you to know my rules.”