Page 21 of The Bratva's Arranged Bride
And still, that wasn’t enough. Seeing my dismay and hearing the desperation in my voice couldn’t shake his walls enough to give in.
I was his pawn. That was evident enough.
And for the first time, I had a genuine reason to despise him.
Being forced into a dress and seated for a makeup artist made me feel like nothing more than a doll to be dressed up and paraded around for everyone’s amusement. With Dad guiding me down the aisle in that small chapel, it was even worse, especially while surrounded by Val’s family.
Despite being briefly introduced to his brothers, I barely remembered their names, and hardly allowed the mental space to be able to place their faces just yet.
The ceremony was still fresh in my mind even then, forced to relive it in what felt like a perpetual loop of my worst nightmare.
He had stood beside me with his hand against the small of my back at one point, and while the warmth of his touch sent a slight shiver up my spine, it also irked me more than I imagined it would.
I wanted to scream through every moment of the ceremony. I wanted to punch Val in particular.
Yet, my choice was silenced, and I could only grit my teeth and try my hardest not to make a scene, despite how badly I wanted to.
Dad kept a straight face throughout, not showing a hint of any kind of emotion. No anger, no tears, and no elation.
It was a deal, nothing more.
He handed me off, and in whatever way, he got what he wanted in the end.
While our relationship had never been particularly good or bad, I never imagined I could feel such intense disdain for my own father as I did at that moment.
To him, I was only something to be traded, and while I had been completely unassuming before, the time for that was over. He revealed how he truly felt about me, and there was no more hiding his real intentions.
To him, I was a tool and a prize to be used on a whim.
Since the moment he revealed his plans to marry me off to Val, it felt like a piece of me broke, and I wasn’t sure if it could ever be repaired again.
With a glance in Val’s direction at any point during the charade, his pleased expression could be found. He looked far too satisfied with the way things were unfolding, like he was moments away from getting everything he could ever want.
His posture had been pin-straight throughout the ceremony, demeanor calm yet quietly triumphant. He repeated everything that needed to be said, smiled when he needed to smile, and put on his usual charm. It almost seemed like he was happy to be there.
Happy to bask in my anger and dismay.
Val looked perfect—unshakable, handsome, and perfectly hateable.
Every part of me hated the way he looked at me, like everything was set in stone and decided. How he expected me to be good and go along with it all.
It was infuriating, and it took every molecule of strength in my body not to lash out at him, or at Dad.
All of it was completely unfair; out of everyone it could’ve happened to, why did it have to be me?
I never asked for any of it. Regardless of me doing everything to go off on my own, to provide for myself and carve my path, I still got sucked into my dad’s world of influence—the control I tried so hard to avoid. Somehow, all of that work I did had been for nothing.
My time away, living on my own, was all just a facade. Dad’s attempt at seeming charitable before he’d ultimately decide to screw me over.
No matter what I said or did, I had no choice. I had no freedom.
Having all of that choice taken away from me made my heart ache and burn.
They both saw me as a piece of property…nothing more.
I hated it.
It made me feel sick.
