Chapter 8: Don’t have a choice
Ella sat stiffly on the leather chair in her father’s study, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The room hadn’t changed much, still filled with the heavy scent of wood polish and expensive cigars, but it felt suffocating now. Her father, Victor Marquez, sat across from her, his steely gray eyes watching her with an unsettling calm. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as if considering her request.
"I’ll help you," he finally said, his voice even.
Ella’s shoulders sagged in relief, and for a brief moment, she felt a flicker of gratitude.
"But," he added, his tone sharpening, "there will be conditions."
Her stomach dropped. Of course, there were conditions. Nothing was ever simple with her father. "What kind of conditions?" she asked, her voice wary.
Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished desk. "You’ll marry Mr. Armand."
Ella blinked, certain she’d misheard him. "What?" she whispered.
"Mr. Armand," he repeated. "He’s a wealthy man, a widower, and my business partner. He’s been seeking a suitable wife to manage his household. If you agree to this arrangement, I’ll cover your mother’s hospital bills and provide for her ongoing care."
Ella stared at him in disbelief, her mind racing. Mr. Armand was infamous. He was in his late fifties, a man known for his mistreatment of women, his controlling nature, and the string of scandals that followed him like a shadow. Marrying him would be like signing her life away.