SERAPHINA’S POV

The chipped tea cup clinked in my trembling hands, warm tea sloshed precariously near the edge. I glared at muddied blue flowers, a reflection of bruises blooming in my forearms, and hoped, for not the first time, to become invisible.

"Seraphina, sweetie, must you fidget about?" my mother’s voice, a razor’s edge, sliced through taut quiet in our sparsely decorated living room. "You’ll spill the tea. And you know what will occur then."

I winced, my eyes dropping to frayed carpeting. "No, Mama."

Her mouth thinned out. "Good. Sit up, and sit erect. You resemble a drooping flower. Mr. Ashford will arrive any moment, and we must make a strong impression."

Mr. Ashford. The name sounded in my head, a tolling bell. He was a man of colossal wealth, a billionaire whispered about in shudders, a man with a name for being cold and unscrupulous, a man whose heart, rumor whispered, beat with no warm blood at all. And now I, Seraphina, the unwanted, the encumbrance, was being presented to him—a sacrifice, an offering, a prize won for a high price in gold and silver.

My father, whose affections long since soured into acid and brutality, arranged it all himself. It was a business arrangement, nothing less, nothing more. Me, a bargaining chip, a sacrifice for a high price in gold and silver that, I hoped, would settle our growing debts. I was nothing but a trading chip, a pawn in their desperate gamble.

The sound of a car shot a new spurt of fright through me. I could feel my heart pounding in my rib cage, a trapped bird flapping its wings in a cage. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to shut out the inescapable, but my mother’s voice ruined my fragile little dream of peace.

“He’s arrived,” she breathed, smoothing out my tatty frock. “Be polite, be courteous, and for goodness' sake, smile!”

I forced a smile onto my face, a twisted mockery of happiness a thousand times removed from my real state.

I'd been practicing for weeks, practicing my submissive stance, my respectful replies. I was a doll, and ready for performance.

The door swung open, and in strode Mr. Ashford, a pillar of authority, radiating an aura of confidence and assurance—a warm, vibrant aura that seemed almost palpable in its intensity.

His face, sharp and unyielding, seemed chiseled—a granite monument—and his eyes, dark and sharp, flashed over the room, resting for a single beat on me, and then moving onward.

“Mr. Ashford, welcome,” my dad said, a voice full of insincere bonhomie, extending a hand, and Mr. Ashford shaking it, then raising an unsmiling face to me.

“You must be Seraphina,” he stated, deep and rich, a statement, not a question.

“Yes, sir,” I breathed, curtsying, a lesson I'd long ago mastered at my mother’s instruction.

He nodded, a face unsmiling, and then: “We have a lot to discuss.”

The next hour was a haze of financial jargon. I sat in silence, my hands clasped in my lap, a stranger in my life.

I listened to my future negotiated, my marriage terms discussed, as if I wasn’t present in the room at all.

Mr. Ashford’s queries were direct and concise. How educated? How healthy? What family? I answered in monosyllables, my voice a mere whisper. I was a specimen under a lens, dissected and examined.

The negotiations at long last finished. Mr. Ashford stood, his eyes holding onto mine.

“The ceremony will be three weeks,” he stated. “My assistant will present the information.”

He turned to my parents. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

A nod, and with a sharp nod, off he went—a thick cloud of unspoken words trailing in his wake.

My mother took a deep breath of relief. “Thank goodness that’s over. That’s a man of little speech, isn’t it?”

My father chuckled. “Because he doesn’t have a use for pleasantries. He gets what he wants.”

I sat in quiet, my eyes focused on the doorway through which Mr. Ashford had moved out of view. Fear crept through my gut, a cold, sinking weight that threatened to suffocate me. I was being traded to a man I did not know—a heartless one, rumor and legend had it. My future lay out in a dark, uncertain path.

Later that evening, I sat at my window, staring out at city lights through my tears streaming down my face. I considered my life, my life to be taken from me. I considered my dreams, my dreams that will never become a reality.

I'd dreamed of a life, a life in which I was cherished and adored, a life in which I'd be free. But such a life seemed a long, long distance—a distance I couldn't bridge. I was trapped, a bird in a cage of gold, soon to be wed to a man who'd clip my wings for all eternity.

A soft knock at my doorway startled me. I wiped my tears and swung about hastily. Standing in my doorway, concern in his face, was my little brother, Leo.

"Seraphina," he whispered, "you're not all right, are you?"

I forced a smile onto my face. "I'm fine, Leo."

He shook his head. "No, you're not. I overheard them, discussing Mr. Ashford."

I took a deep breath. "It's for the best, Leo."

"But you don't have to marry him," he exclaimed, anger in his voice. "He's... he's intimidating."

I hugged him closely to me. "I know, Leo. But I have no say in it."

"Yes, you do," he exclaimed, moving out of my hug. "You can run away."

I smiled wistfully. "Where, Leo? I have no one to go to."

"You could go with me," he exclaimed. "We could go somewhere, somewhere no one will ever find us."

My heart hurt seeing innocence in his eyes. I hurt to have him with me, to save him from harsh realities of life. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t expose him to danger.

“I can’t, Leo,” I whispered softly.

“It’s not safe,” I added, my voice little louder than a whisper.

He regarded me, tears brimming in eyes. “But I don’t want you to marry him,” he whispered softly in my ear.

“I know,” I hugged him tight.

“But it’s all right,” I assured him.

“I’ll survive.”

I knew I was lying.

I won’t survive.

But I couldn’t stand seeing him scared.

I have to be strong for him, even when I was shattering apart.

He at long last moved out, wiping at eyes with a wad of tissue.

“Promise me that you’ll survive,” he begged, voice shaking with emotion.

“I swear,” I forced a smile onto my face.

He nodded, and then, no word, moved out of room.

I sat alone again, with nothing but my beating heart for sound but my own.

I gazed out at city lights, at glinting stars taunting my misery.

I was trapped, a hostage in my life, to be handed over to a heartless man.

I couldn’t know my future, my fate, and I couldn’t but wonder at what lay in store for me—the kind of life I could possibly have with Mr. Ashford.

I could survive, I hoped, and manage, but I could not but wonder at my fate, at my future, and a life with no hope but misery and pain.