Chapter 32: 32
The morning sun seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the unfamiliar room. A sickening sensation twisted in my stomach, accompanied by the relentless throb in my head. Confusion swept over me as I pushed myself up, taking in the room that, although foreign, held a sense of belonging.
"Come out for breakfast, dear," Mrs. Nelly’s voice, gentle and matronly, drifted in from the doorway. I preferred to think of her as Grandma Nelly, a loving presence that had welcomed me into her home, filling a void left by my own grandmother.
As I shuffled through the house, questions swirled in my mind like leaves caught in a storm. How did I end up here? The dining room greeted me, and I settled into my seat, only to be greeted by a shirtless Tommy emerging from his room.
"Put a shirt on, will you?" I quipped, tossing an apple his way. His response was a mere side-eye before he, too, settled at the table.
"Carmela, the young man who brought you here asked to be called the moment you woke," Grandma Nelly mentioned, placing a steaming bowl of soup before me and a glass of water beside Tommy.
"A guy?" Tommy’s eyebrows shot up, a hint of curiosity in his voice. I busied myself with the soup, trying to shake off the haze clouding my memory from the night before.
"Did he mention his name, Aunt?" Tommy’s question pierced the air, and I nearly choked on the soup as memories flooded back in.
"He said he was her Editor."
Damian. Dread crept up my spine as flashes of the previous night played out in my mind like a twisted movie reel.
"I’ll pay you back in six months, with interest," my own words echoed in my ears, the defiant tone sending shivers down my spine. Mr. Dean’s laughter reverberated in my mind, chilling me to the core.
"I’ll give you till tomorrow," his voice seemed to linger in the air, taunting me.
With a groan, I realized the gravity of my situation. How could I have been so foolish? I bit my lip, the weight of a hundred and seventy million hanging over me like a dark cloud.
"Carmela, who is Nix Dean, and why do you owe him a hundred and seventy million?" Grandma Nelly’s voice cut through the tension, and I felt my entire body tense up. It was as if the secret I dreaded was exposed, making me feel vulnerable.
"What in the world did you do with that kind of money?" Tommy’s disbelief was palpable, and I gulped down the water, trying to find my voice.
"Who told you about that?" I deflected, but Tommy narrowed his eyes at me and his expression painted a clear picture of my recklessness.
"Oh no, Editor Damian," the realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt tears beginning to swell up in my eyes as I felt my bottled emotions exposing.
Sitting beside me, Grandma Nelly’s comforting presence was a lifeline in the storm. I poured out the whole story, from the orphanage to my grandmother’s death, skipping over the intimate moments with Mr. Dean, feeling the weight lift as I shared everything.
"It’s okay, dear. We’ll figure this out," her soothing words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and tears streamed down my cheeks.
Tommy, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in, "Don’t worry about the money. Your paintings will fetch a good price. We’ll make this right."
But then he asked the question that made my blood boil, "But what did you expect him to do after paying so much just to have you by his side and then see you having a fun time with other men..Let you go?"
Anger surged within me, but I pushed it down, focusing on the resolve that burned bright.
"That’s why I have you to erase the name slave properly from my name" I retorted with a wink, just to have him roll his eyes "Get ready, Tommy. We have work to do. Grandma, I’ll sort this out. Trust me."
With a kiss on Grandma Nelly’s cheek, I felt a surge of determination. The drama had unfolded, the suspense hung thick in the air, but I was ready to take control of my fate. My story is far from over, this isn’t my last Chapter nor is it the end.
The elegant dining room seemed to lose its luster as my thoughts drifted away from the lavish feast laid before me. Despite the abundance of food, a gnawing hunger gnawed at my soul, restless and unsatisfied.
"You seem dissatisfied, is the dish that bad?" Ella Dalton’s voice pierced through my reverie as I mechanically sliced into my steak, barely tasting it. She wasn’t the company I desired. My mind yearned for another, my beloved, not the cousin of Justin, the purported heir of the Dalton family. The one with no traceable roots at the moment.
"Why do I feel like you hate spending time with me? Could she be the cause?" Ella’s words were like barbs, each one digging deeper as I forced myself to sip from my glass of wine, masking my disquiet.
"The girl you kissed from last night’s party?" Her accusation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the aroma of fine wine but I would be lying if I said her words held any effect on me. "Could she be the reason? I could see how possessive you were over her... Either way, frolicking with as many women as you want will only be permitted now, I won’t allow that after our wedding."
A scoff escaped me as I set down my glass, wiping my mouth with a napkin. Why did I always find myself entangled with women who lacked the finesse to know when to cease their prattle?
"If we were a match, it would be one made in immoral heaven, not Heaven itself," I retorted, dropping the napkin as tension crackled in the air. "And what marriage are we speaking about? I thought we had an agreement."
"I only agreed to rethink it, not to break the alliance... And if she’s the one you want to break up this alliance for, then I’d suggest you rethink," Ella countered, her voice tinged with steel.
"My reasons are none of your business, and I suggested it to you out of courtesy... Let’s come down to reality; my betrothed died before my eyes, and you’re just a substitute," I stated, rising to my feet, my patience wearing thin. "Whether real or fake, I remain the only legal daughter of the Dalton family, so I beg your pardon..."
Ella’s gaze locked with mine, unwavering in its intensity. "Also, my grandfather wishes for your presence, so I hope you know what to do if you don’t want to create trouble for yourself," she added, her words a veiled threat that failed to evoke the desired effect.
"Your grandfather knows better than to cause trouble with me... Seems you haven’t been given detailed information about me," I replied coolly before taking my leave. But her parting words halted me in my tracks.
"Six months. I’ll give you six months to end whatever relationship you have with her and get prepared for our wedding," she declared, her ultimatum hanging in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon.
Six months is a generous timeframe, yet one fraught with uncertainty. As I stepped out, the valet held open the car door, but my attention was drawn elsewhere, to a figure approaching with a grace that belied the turmoil within.
It was Carmela. Her presence was unexpected yet undeniable, alighted from a bicycle, her demeanor confident despite the unconventional mode of transport, she exuded an air of confidence, her posture poised and unyielding. Her skirt, billowing lightly in the breeze, barely grazed her knees, a testament to her audacious spirit. Clad in a form-fitted long-sleeved shirt, she epitomized effortless elegance, her attire a reflection of her unwavering determination.
"Hello, Mr. Dean. Hope I’m not late?" Her smile, though strained, held a hint of defiance as she met my gaze head-on.
"What’s the meaning of this?" I demanded, my curiosity piqued by her unexpected appearance.
"You asked, I decided.." she trailed away as her eyes narrowed at something behind me "You thought l won’t pay you? You are a joker then and I’d love to remind you that I stand by my words," she declared, her resolve unwavering despite the uncertainty of the situation.
"So, can I have your phone number so I can call you when I’m ready?" she stretched out her hands as her words laced with a subtle challenge.
"I do have your number," I interjected, catching her off guard as a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.
"Oh, you do... I thought you didn’t, and that’s why..." she trailed off, her words tinged with a hint of embarrassment before regaining her composure. "Either way, I’ll keep wearing this leg chain you got me until the day I pay you off your money, okay?"
Her gaze held mine, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that tethered us together, before she turned and climbed on the forefront of a bicycle being cycled by a guy with pink hair
Had I made a mistake in sending her away to Paris? And when did my demure darling, Carmela, morph into this daring enigma? As I settled into the plush confines of the car, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
"She’s surely my girl after all," I mused, the thrill of excitement coursing through my veins as I embraced the intrigue that lay ahead.
Her actions may be uncertain but there’s no harm in letting her go astray a bit.