I should not have gone home late, I knew better than to go home late. “I barely set foot inside before the shouting—a sharp snap of my dad’s voice cutting through the walls like a lash,My belly contracted. “ I hugged my tattered backpack tighter and stepped into the house, heart pounding, knowing exactly what I was walking into. “Very useless!” cried Grandma. “Just like the mother. You brought her up wrong, Samantha! No discipline, no shame!” Mother’s voice trembled and was soft. “She went to school—” “She’s here wasting your money, your food, your roof,” shouted my father. “Ungrateful child, No child of mine disrespects this house like she does.” Then silence. The kind that weighs as heavily as a storm about to burst. I stood just by the doorway, the wood against the palm of my hand, dust accumulating on my worn school shoes. “Good evening,” I grunted. The silence shattered, “Where the bloody hell have you been?” My father shifted from the couch towards me, shouldering forward, eyes flushed red with anger. “I had a late class,” I replied, attempting a level tone. “The lecture ran over.” Before I could say anything more, the back of his hand met my cheek with such force that I saw stars. My bag slipped from my hands and thudded onto the floor. My face was on fire, and I could taste blood. You think you can just stroll in here like a man?” he spat. “You’re nothing! A waste of space!” He grabbed me by my collar and pushed me back. I crashed into the wall, ribs protesting. “Daddy, stop!” shouted Sabrina and sprang from the hall. She was thirteen years old and lean and afraid and always hid behind Mum when things turned sour. Mum tried to pull him off of me, but before she had time, Grandma stretched full-length across the room and slapped her with such strength that she crashed on the floor. Defend the girl again, and I’ll kill you myself,” the old woman snarled. “You’re the one who made this girl what she is. Shameless mother having another shameless daughter!” I glanced over and saw my sixteen-year-old brother, Caleb, sprawled on the couch eating popcorn and thumbing his phone as if nothing was happening. He was the darling of the family. My father adored him, Grandma spoil him rotten, and even Mother could not scold him, else It will start a war in the house. I remembered the time I needed money to buy some textbooks for my graduation exams, my dad ignored me, told me to go and ask God for money for my education. But then when Caleb desired a new phone a couple of weeks later, Dad went ahead and ordered one online that very day—an iPhone at that. When I was ill once and would not be able to work, half of the salary was sent by my part-time employer. Dad overheard and grinned, “See? Even the world knows that she’s not worth full price.” But when Caleb flunked math and needed a private tutor dad tripled the regular price just to “secure his future.” “Leave her alone,” cried Mum, sobbing. “She’s your daughter.” “She’s a curse,” my father said. “I should have ended things the moment you were born.” That was enough, I’ve heard enough of all this. I stood on wobbly legs, face throbbing, body aching, but fury burning fiercer than the hurt. “Never have you treated me like you considered me one of your children,” I stated harshly, clearly, and shakily. “You hated me from the very day I was born. You don’t care anything about a daughter!” “Linda, please…” Sabrina tugged at my arm, her eyes full of fear. But I just couldn’t stop anymore, I already started it, I have to continue. “You have beaten me, starved me and denied me school fees. I have cleaned floors, washed dishes and sold items on the road just to go to school. And you just kept on telling me I am not a boy.” “Shut up,” shouted my dad. “No! I won’t!” I moved closer. “You’re a terrible father. You failed both of us, You failed Mum. If you’re going to kill me, then kill me! At least then I’ll die knowing I said the truth.” For a second, no one moved, Even Grandma was speechless. My father pointed towards the door. “Get out of my house.” I stumbled, mum screamed out. “No, please—” “Out. I said,” he growled. Tears swelled up in my eyes because I wasn’t expecting that at all but I held my head high. “Fine.” I turned to leave, legs heavy as lead, but before I could get to the door, my hair was dragged back so hard I yelled. Grandmother She had pulled my hair back and dragged me violently towards her like a trash bag. “You think you just get up and walk away?” she taunted. “You don’t have a choice. You’re not free.” “Let me go,” I yelled frantically, scraping at her hand, although she was stronger than I expected. “Go and lock her in the room!” she screamed at Caleb. “You’re not going to do that,” Mum said, straining to stand up, but Dad pushed her back. Grandma pushed me into the small damp guest room and closed the door. I ran over to the door handle, panic rising in me. The door was locked. I beat on the door as hard as I could. Let me go! You cannot do this! “I should’ve married off your mother when she was your age,” Grandma said through the door. “But I’ll make up for that mistake now. You’re above 18 now, ripe and useless—time to sell you off and make something out of you.” “No!” I shrieked. “I’m not getting married! You can’t force me!” But they weren’t listening anymore. I heard Caleb laugh, and then footsteps receding down the hall. I collapsed on the dusty floor, I couldn’t breathe, I just kept crying. This cannot be my life, I was not a slave. I was not something that was bought and sold like cattle. I wouldn’t let them. I headed quietly over towards the tiny window and crouched over and peered into the darkness. The streets were silent. My school bag was on the living room floor somewhere, thrown aside like me. But not for long. My phone was still in my waist. It was old and broken but functional. I called the one person I trusted the most—Tasha, one of my closest friends at school. She replied on the very first ring. “Linda? It’s almost midnight, what’s wrong?” I took a deep breath. “They have locked me up in a room. They are planning to get me married.” What? I need your help. And that’s when I discovered it. A voice I didn’t recognize and that came from outside the window said, “So this is the girl.” I froze. I stood up quietly, gazing into the darkness. There was a figure outside my house wearing all black, his face hidden. And there was my dad beside him, speaking softly and handing him a brown envelope. You’ll pick her up tomorrow night,” my father said. “Just make sure she doesn’t come back.” My blood ran cold. They didn’t just threaten me. They really meant it and they already sold me off. Wow.
I don’t know how long I remained on the cold floor just staring into the darkness as if the solution was there. My body hurts, my mind revolves round and round. The sound of different voices outside the door were like a different storm, too far to understand but close enough not to ignore. Then I heard her. Mother. Please don’t do this to her,” she begged frantically, her voice strained and raw. “She’s a child. She wants to finish her education. Please, I beg of you!” “You’re always begging, Samantha,” screamed Grandma. “Begging since the day you came into this house! And for what? You’ve raised a disrespectful child who thinks she can speak disrespectfully to her own father just because she thinks she’s now an adult!” “She isn’t being disrespectful,” mum cried. “She just wants to be loved by her family.” “Then let her get married”, my father barked. “That way she will get enough love.” “No, no, please.” Mum dropped to her knees with a thud, the sound echoing through the walls like a slap. “Don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Beat me, curse me, starve me—but leave Linda alone.” I heard her wailing, the sound of her hands hitting the floor as she rolled at Grandma’s feet. “Please, Grandma, I’m on my knees! You’re a mother also, Don’t do this.” ” Get away from me,” Grandma snarled, pulling away as if mum were a dirt. “You disgust me!! You have always been weak, always crying. No wonder your daughter turned out this way.” With that, she walked away. I heard her shut her door angrily. I wanted to scream, I wanted to kick the door open but sadly all I could do was silently cry while I listened as my mother suffered. I did not sleep that night and I’m sure she didn’t either. Time passed. “The house remained quiet. And then the bedroom door creaked open softly.” It was My mother. She stepped in with slow, cautious feet and locked the door behind her. Her eyes were red and puffy. I could see the way her hands trembled as she reached for me. She whispered, “I won’t let them take you,” as her voice broke. “I won’t let what they did to me be done to you.” I stared at her in confusion. “What… what do you mean?” She sat next to me and closed her eyes, the hurt registering on her face as if it were a house. When I was a child of sixteen years old, my dad arranged for me to get married to your father who was twenty-five-year-old then . I begged my mother to put a stop to this, but she remained silent. On the day of the wedding, I cried inconsolably and even fainted but still they did go ahead. I lost everything that day, I lost my youth, I lost hope. I lost myself. She opened her eyes and they sparkled with tears. “I won’t let this happen to you,” Linda, I won’t.” She took hold of me very tightly. I had not felt such a grip by her in a long time. Just then, the door creaked open again. Sabrina. “Mum?” She whispered, “is she leaving?” I opened my mouth wide. “Leaving?” Mum just nodded. “Pack up the clothes, Quietly. There isn’t much time.” We moved like shadows, silent and swift. Mama took the spare key from under Grandma’s mat—the same one she used to sneak food for me when I was grounded for days, a long time ago. We stuffed my old school bag with some clothes, my ID card, and the little cash Mum could get. Samantha removed her necklace that has her picture in it. “Take this,” she put the necklace into the palm of my hand. “So you don’t forget me.” I’ll never forget you,” I whispered and hugged her close. We tiptoed through the hallway, the wooden floor groaning under our weight. Outside, the wind howled. The night was heavy, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. I could barely see the gate, but mum kept whispering beneath her breath “just keep going anyhow”. Freedom was just a step away. But as I opened the gate, Where do you think you’re going? It was my dad. He stood at the living room entranceway, folded his arms over his chest and scowled. Grandma was beside him, face stern. “Linda! Run!” Don’t you dare come back! Do you think you’ll just take away my property and then disappear? Father roared. “Want to shame me? Hmph! You think you’re a woman now?” Insults shot back and forth like bullets. Worthless. Idiot. Whore. He grabbed hold of Mum’s arm and drew her inside. Samantha screamed. I wanted to run back, but mum kept shouting “Go,” she whispered. “Don’t look back.” Tears blurred my vision, I ran. — I didn’t rest until I arrived at Tasha’s hostel. She opened the door and caught me while I was falling. “My God! What have they done to you?” she exclaimed, pulling me inside. “Your face.” I told her everything. She didn’t cut me off. She simply held me, dried my tears, and assured me I was safe. I didn’t know how I slept off. I woke up the next day and wore the only set of clean clothes I had. I had work I needed to get to, I couldn’t afford to get there late. The small restaurant that I was working at was not fancy, but it was my refuge. The smell of spices, the whish of hot oil, the sizzle of meat—this was where I felt most myself. I loved cooking. It was the one activity that left me feeling like the master of the world, like I was creating something beautiful from nothing. “Linda, you’re early,” my boss, Mrs Stella said as I tied my apron. “You okay?” I smiled grudgingly. “Yes, ma.” That afternoon, after my shift, I went to do my second job. At school, girls like me were called “any help.” I washed clothes, cleaned rooms, and ran errands. Anything to earn money for my school fees. I didn’t complain. I couldn’t afford to. I had a final delivery that night. A student in her final year had pleaded with me to deliver her laundry by 9 p.m. She wouldn’t stop calling, texting, and threatening to report me. I mounted my small cycle and cycled into the growing gloom of the street, the bag of neatly folded clothing held tightly within the wicker basket. My muscles ached, my back hurt, but I continued. I shouldn’t have been checking my phone, but she wouldn’t stop calling. “Where are you? I urgently need the clothes!” I gazed downward at the screen and before I could raise my head to concentrate, And that’s when it happened. I looked up—and hit something hard. A car. My bicycle skidded out from under me and I landed hard on the floor, pain ripping through my sides. For a moment, everything was blurry—blinding headlights, the sharp sting of gravel in my skin, and the loud slam of a car door. Footstep. Then a tall figure emerged from the vehicle. Dressed in a sharp suit, Polished shoes. Expensive watch. He walked toward me slowly, his face hidden in the shadow of the streetlight. And then he spoke. “What the hell were you thinking?” I looked up, mouth full of blood, aches throughout each of the bones inside me—and for the first time in my entire existence, I knew that everything was going to be different.
Is this how my life will always be?” That was the only question ringing in my head as I opened my eyes and stared at the dark sky above me. My body ached, my elbow was bruised, and my knees were burning, but nothing hurt more than my chest—than my heart. Tears welled up again as I pushed myself up slightly and sat on the rough gravel road. I was trying to figure out what just happened when someone’s shoes came into view. “Are you okay?” a calm male voice asked gently. I looked up and saw a young man, average in height, dressed neatly in a shirt and trousers, his face soft with concern. I was about to answer him when I heard a loud click from the back seat of the black car. And then… he stepped out. The man that came out of the car was nothing like the first one. Tall. Sharp. Polished. Clean. He looked like he belonged in a magazine. The kind of man you’d only see on TV or billboards. Even in the darkness, the shine on his wristwatch glowed, and his presence pulled the air out of the atmosphere. He looked furious. “Are you blind?” he shouted, glaring at me like I was a stray dog that just crossed his path. “Can’t you see where you’re going?” I tried to explain, but my voice disappeared in my throat. “Do you know how much this car costs?” he barked. “Even if we sold you and your entire family, you still wouldn’t be able to afford the side mirror!” I felt like the ground should open and swallow me. I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to scream back that he had no right to speak to me like that. But nothing came out. The only thing that spoke for me were the tears rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks. “I’m talking to you!” he snapped. “How do you plan to fix this car?” I opened my mouth to speak, but it quivered with fear. Where will I get that kind of money? I didn’t even have enough to eat properly, and now someone’s talking about millions for a car? Just then, the first man—his assistant, I assumed—walked up to him and handed him his phone. His face changed immediately. His tone dropped as he answered. “Yes… Yes, I’m on my way,” he said and cut the call sharply. The assistant leaned in and whispered something to him. He turned to me one last time. “Just thank your stars… or whatever low-life gods you worship for saving you tonight,” he sneered. “Make sure I never see you again.” With that, he turned and stepped back into the car like a prince returning to his palace. His assistant turned to me, helped me up slowly, and mouthed quietly, “Please… take care of yourself.” He climbed into the driver’s seat, and then the car drove off into the night. I was left standing in the cold darkness, my arms shaking and my body sore. The screen of my phone suddenly lit up. It was a message from the girl whose clothes I was supposed to deliver. > “Where the hell are you? Bring my clothes now or forget your payment!” Reality slapped me back. I bent down slowly, picked up the scattered laundry bag, dusted my torn skirt, and climbed back on my bicycle. Even though every part of my body screamed in pain, I kept going. — When I arrived at her hostel, the girl flung the door open with an irritated face. She snatched the laundry bag from my hand and hissed. “You’re late, and some of the clothes are still slightly damp. I’m deducting from your pay.” I nodded. I didn’t even have the strength to argue. I collected the small amount of money she dropped in my hand like trash and turned to leave. The pain in my leg made every step feel like I was walking on needles. — When I got to my hostel, I found Trisha, my best friend and roommate, sitting on the bed with a huge smile on her face. “Linda!” she beamed, “You’re back! Guess what—” but then she paused, her eyes widening in concern. “What happened to you?” She rushed to my side and helped me sit. I told her everything, from the accident to the man who insulted me and the way I felt so helpless. She quickly got up and fetched a small bag of ice from our tiny fridge. She wrapped it in a cloth and placed it gently on my knee. “Why is life like this?” I whispered. “Why does it feel like I’m always fighting just to breathe?” Trisha didn’t say anything. She just sat beside me, holding my hand while I silently cried. After a while, I noticed her scrolling through her phone and smiling again. “What is it?” I asked. She hesitated, then grinned. “I know you love cooking, right?” I nodded slowly, not sure where she was going. “Well, I was scrolling through social media and saw this cooking competition advert. The prize is life-changing! Like, really big money—and a chance to work in one of the top restaurants in the country!” I raised an eyebrow. “Before you roll your eyes,” she laughed, “I already signed you up.” “What? Why?” “Because, Linda,” she said, holding my hand, “you’re amazing at cooking. Even when you’re tired, broke, or crying… once you enter that kitchen, it’s like magic. You deserve a chance to live the life you dream of.” I looked at her for a moment, my chest tightening again—but this time with emotion. “Thank you,” I whispered. She handed me her phone, and I scrolled through the competition site. Everything looked legit. There were videos, articles, and even a countdown timer to the submission deadline. Just as I scrolled through the list of sponsors… I froze. There was a face. A face I would never forget. A face that made my heart skip a beat and then pound painfully in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. My fingers trembled as I dropped the phone. “What’s wrong?” Trisha asked, alarmed. “I’m not doing this,” I said quickly. “Why?” she asked, trying to pick the phone. “I said I’m not doing it!” I shouted. And that was it. I stood up and turned away from her, hiding the tears that suddenly returned. The face on the screen? I couldn’t believe he was one of the sponsors. The same man who said I was worthless… The same man who said my entire family wouldn’t be enough to fix his car… How could I ever stand on a stage owned by him?
Christian’s POV I sat at the backseat of the car, loosening the top button of my suit. My head was pounding slightly, and all I wanted was to crash on my bed with a glass of whiskey. “What does this old man want now?” I muttered under my breath. “This late at night?” Charles, my ever-efficient personal assistant, glanced back from the front seat. “He said he just wants to check up on you, sir. He was worried, “It’s almost midnight.” I sighed and looked out the window. The lights of the city faded as we approached the mansion. Tall iron gates opened as we drove through, and soon the familiar grand structure came into view. When I stepped into the house, I wasn’t surprised to see him pacing the living room with his walking stick, like a general ready for war. “Old man, why haven’t you gone to bed?” I called out, pulling off my blazer. “You know your health isn’t great, The doctor said you need more rest.” He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes at me before raising his stick threateningly. “Do you want to add to my BP? How can I sleep when you’re still out gallivanting at this time of night?” “I was out grabbing a few drinks,” I said flatly. He scowled. “That’s your problem! When will you drop these bad habits and grow up? You know you’ll have to take over the company soon, and to rule well, you need—” “A wife by your side,” I finished for him, dragging a hand through my hair. “Not again, Grandpa. Can’t you let this rest?” “I will not!” he barked. “I built Delight Haven Foods with your grandmother. We were a team. She gave it life, beauty, and flavor. And your parents—God rest their souls—they kept the legacy alive. You’ve done well holding things down these past years, but it’s time to stop living like a lonely wolf. I just want to see you build something meaningful before I close my eyes.” I swallowed hard and looked at the old man. He wasn’t just stubborn—he was scared. Scared I’d end up alone, And maybe… maybe I was scared too. “Okay, okay, old man,” I said quietly. “I’ll get a girl, Just give me a few days. If that’s what you want, I’ll handle it.” His face softened a little. “Good. But one more thing.” I groaned. “There’s more?” “For the cooking competition we’re sponsoring—I want you to personally go through the applicants tomorrow. I heard there are plenty of entries, so pick someone who truly stands out.” I nodded, mostly to shut him up. “Fine. Now let’s get you to bed before your stick breaks on my head.” Linda’s POV “I’m not doing this,” I said firmly, staring at my phone like it had betrayed me. Trisha blinked. “What? Why? What happened?” I turned to her slowly. “Remember the man whose car I hit tonight? The one that insulted me like I was a speck of dirt on his shoe?” She nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. “That man… is the owner of Delight Haven Foods. He’s not just any sponsor. He’s the biggest one. The face of the entire competition. And he’s filthy rich… like, billionaire-level rich. He’s also the most eligible bachelor in the country. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him earlier.” Angela’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. This is bad. This is really bad.” I collapsed onto the bed. “I embarrassed myself in front of him. He humiliated me. There’s no way he’ll choose me now.” She sat beside me, eyes full of worry. “I already sent in your application. I included that video of you cooking. He’s going to see your face for sure.” My stomach churned. “This is not cool.” We sat in silence for a while, both of us unsure what to do next. ………. The next morning, we went to class. I tried to stay focused, but my mind kept replaying that night. The lecturer walked in with news that made everything worse. “Your final project defense will begin soon. You are to prepare both your written and practical submissions.” I felt dizzy. That project required money—money I didn’t have. After class, I walked back to the hostel alone, hoping to rest my head. But before I could even step in, I heard screams. People were running in all directions. Thick smoke curled into the air. The hostel was on fire. I froze in place. My legs refused to move. My heart felt like it had stopped. Trisha ran toward me, coughing, carrying a bag and a few books. Her face was covered in ash, but her eyes widened in relief when she saw me. We hugged tightly, both of us crying. “I don’t have anything left,” I whispered. She held my hand. “We’ll figure it out. You’ll go for that competition and win. You have to.” I nodded slowly, wiping my tears. I had no other option. Christian’s POV Another boring morning at the office. Meetings, files, reports—everything felt like a blur. I leaned back in my chair as the large screen displayed the cooking competition applications. My assistant and a few board members were presenting six shortlisted candidates. “Next,” I said every few seconds, none of them catching my interest. I stood, stretching. “I’m done here.” “Sir,” one of the men said quickly. “There’s one more applicant. We almost missed her, but… we think she might be the one.” I sighed and sat back down. “Alright, let’s see her.” The screen changed. And there she was. Her eyes. That familiar face. The girl from last night. I stared at the video, then slowly leaned back in my seat. A slow, mischievous smile crept onto my lips. “Add her,” I said simply. Let’s see how this gets interesting.
Linda’s POV We had nowhere else to go. “Let’s just stay at your workplace,” Trisha said, tightening her grip on the small duffle bag she managed to save from the fire. “The staff quarters—at least it has a roof.” As we walked through the dim streets, my phone buzzed. A new email. My heart raced. I opened it with trembling hands, and there it was—“Congratulations, you’ve been selected for the National Culinary Face-Off.” The message continued, detailing the date—two days from now—and the venue. My chest tightened. This was real. Trisha saw my frozen face and grabbed my shoulders. “Babe, we’re gonna win this, We have to.” We reached the restaurant just in time for my shift. My manager frowned when I explained what happened, but he softened quickly, letting us stay in the small guest room beside the pantry. Trisha offered to help out around the kitchen to cover for me. When our shift ended, we lay side by side on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come. I kept thinking about Mum and my little sister and the competition. How were they? Were they eating okay? Was my sister still waking up with her nightmares? Winning this competition—it wasn’t just a prize. It was my lifeline. — The day of the competition. I hadn’t slept a wink. My mind was a whirlwind of fears, recipes, and determination. Could I really pull this off? The moment my alarm rang, Trisha jolted upright, startling me. This was the same girl who normally cursed the very existence of alarm clocks. She smiled. “Let’s pray, For strength. For victory.” We prayed, We dressed. We left. — Christian’s POV God knows I was the happiest man on earth right now. She had no idea what I had planned for her. She didn’t even recognize me at the accident scene—and now, destiny was walking her straight into my hands. I almost laughed as I stepped into the living room, shocking Charles, my assistant. “You’re up early,” he said, blinking. “Let’s not waste time,” I said, slipping on my suit jacket. “It’s going to be an interesting day.” — The venue buzzed with energy. Bright lights. Elegant banners with the logo “Golden Plate Culinary Challenge.” Reporters clustered near the entrance. Cameramen adjusted tripods. The judges’ table sat elevated on a platform facing ten pristine cooking stations. Each contestant had two hours to create a signature dish based on a secret theme revealed on the spot: “Comfort food with an innovative twist.” Prize? 30 million dollars and a contract with Montierre Cuisine Group—the most prestigious food conglomerate in the country. A panel of five judges—including myself—would taste, score, and announce the top three. I finally spotted her. Linda. She looked overwhelmed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a trembling hand. But even in her confusion, she looked… captivating. — Linda’s POV When the coordinator stepped up, I took a deep breath. “Welcome contestants,” she announced. “Today’s theme is Comfort Food With an Innovative Twist. You have 2 hours, and the ingredients provided must be used creatively. Judges will assess presentation, flavor balance, originality, and connection to the theme.” A buzzer sounded. The competition began. Chaos erupted. Knives clattered. Pans sizzled. The smell of sautéed garlic, baked cheese, and slow-roasted spices filled the air. Even the whispers of wealthier contestants looking down on me flew around the hall but I shut out the noise and focused. I had chosen a childhood favorite—mac and cheese. But I added a twist: I used sharp aged cheddar, creamy gouda, and a hint of truffle oil. I topped it with a golden parmesan breadcrumb crust and served it with roasted garlic chips and a smoked onion puree. It was comforting, elevated, and deeply personal—just like I remembered, but transformed into something worthy of a stage. Trisha cheered from the sidelines. “Let’s go, Chef Linda!” — Time flew. “Five minutes left!” the coordinator shouted. My heart pounded as I placed my final garnish. I stepped back. Done. — Christian’s POV One by one, the contestants presented their dishes. Some choked under pressure. Some impressed me. But then it was her turn. She approached, her chin slightly lifted. A plate in her hand, eyes refusing to meet mine. “Name?” I asked casually. “Linda Thompson.” She began explaining. She was eloquent. The judges tasted. One gasped. Another closed his eyes and murmured “Wow.” I watched her face—nervous, guarded—but still strong. I twirled my fork slowly. Her hands fidgeted as I finally took a bite. Explosion. Spice. Creaminess. Crunch. Heat. Warmth. I swallowed, locked eyes with her—and smiled. She looked away quickly. The dishes were done. Now I wait. — Linda’s POV The wait was killing me. Each second stretched into minutes. My palms were sweating. I knew I did well, but what if they rejected me because of him? Oh God. Help me. Please. Finally, the judges returned. The coordinator stepped up again. “We’ve reached a decision. All participants did amazingly well, but as you know—we can only award three.” The second runner-up was called—a girl from L.A, Her prize: $5,000. First runner-up: a guy from America, Prize: $10,000. Then came the moment. Christian rose to his feet, holding a golden envelope. “Today, we witnessed talent, passion, and creativity. But one dish stood out—bold, nostalgic, comforting… yet refreshingly unique.” He opened the envelope slowly. “Congratulations to… Linda Thompson.” I froze. Trisha screamed. She ran to me and hugged me so tightly I almost collapsed. Tears streamed down my face. I could barely breathe. I’ve done it. The judges came forward for photos. Cameras flashed. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Then came the prize: a briefcase of $30 million and a brown envelope titled “Employment Letter – Montierre Cuisine Group.” I didn’t read it. I just signed everything, eager to seal my future. I handed the forms to Charles. …… The event wrapped up, People dispersed. Then I saw him again. Christian—approaching me with a bouquet of red lilies. He stopped inches from me, his smirk mischievous. “Congratulations,” he said, pulling me into a hug before I could react. He leaned into my ear and whispered something that turned my blood to ice. “Do you have any idea what you just signed… Mrs. Christian Darlington?”
Linda’s POV My heart was beating so fast, I thought it would rip out of my chest. “Mrs. Darlington…” What did I just hear? No—no, that’s not me, that’s his name. That can’t be right, my hands turned ice-cold as I stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign that this was a joke, a mistake, anything but the truth. But Christian just smiled—no, smirked—like he had just won a game I didn’t even know I was playing. I looked at the flowers he held in one hand, they were beautiful, expensive, but they made me sick. He nodded slightly, and his assistant stepped forward, handing him a familiar-looking document, my breath hitched. It was the one I had signed earlier, the one I didn’t even glance through properly because I was too happy, too joyful, too stupid. Christian held it out to me casually, like it was nothing. “You might want to read this again, properly this time.” My hands trembled as I took it, I didn’t know what to expect, I scanned it quickly, my eyes darting through the text—until they landed on two bold words that shattered me completely. Marriage Agreement. What? No, this had to be a mistake, a misprint, or some legal jargon I didn’t understand. But the heading was clear, beneath it, my name and signature stared back at me. It was real, binding. My throat closed up, my knees wobbled, but I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay upright. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching me fall. “W–What is this?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “You tricked me.” “I didn’t trick you,” he said smoothly. “You just didn’t read the fine print.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap that smug expression off his face, but instead, tears slipped from my eyes, hot and silent, he was right. I had been played, Humiliated, And worst of all—I had signed it. “I’m not going to marry you,” I whispered, stepping back. “I can’t do this, I won’t.” His next words cut me deeper than I ever expected. “If you don’t go through with it,” he said coolly, you won’t get the prize, No money, No job, Nothing.” I opened my mouth, stunned, but he didn’t stop. “And your mother and sister…” he added slowly, like he was savoring each word, “they won’t get any help either.” I froze. He knew. He had looked into me—my background, my family, Everything. “You’re using them… to blackmail me?” My voice cracked. “I’m offering you security,” he said. “All you have to do is play your part.” I hated him, hated the arrogance in his voice, hated the way he stood there like he owned me. But the worst part? He was right. I had no choice. For Mom, For my sister. I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and stood straight. “Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll do it. But I have my own conditions.” His brow lifted, amused. “Go ahead.” “No sharing rooms. No sharing beds. And definitely, no catching feelings.” He let out a dry laugh. “That’s easy. I don’t plan on falling for you either, sweetheart.” We stared at each other like two generals signing a treaty before battle. Then he clapped his hands. “Great. Now that we’re in agreement, we have a dinner to plan.” I blinked. “Dinner?” “Yes. Tonight,” he said, adjusting his cuffs like a prince preparing for a coronation. “My grandfather wants to meet the woman I’m going to marry. So tonight, we celebrate your victory… and introduce you as my fiancée.” My stomach flipped. “You’re kidding.” “I don’t kid.” He gave me that infuriating smirk again. “Don’t worry, I’ll have designers, makeup artists, stylists—everything taken care of.” He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. “Oh, and Linda?” He looked over his shoulder. “Smile a little tonight. You just became the future Mrs. Darlington. That’s not something people like you get to do every day.” And just like that, he walked out. Leaving me standing there, drowning in a storm of confusion, anger, and heartbreak. This wasn’t the victory I dreamed of. This was war. — As soon as his car rolled out of the venue, I just stood there, frozen in place, holding the contract like it was made of thorns. “Linda!” Tricia’s voice pulled me back. She ran to me, wide-eyed. “What happened? What did he say to you after the competition?” I handed her the paper, my hands were still shaking. She unfolded it, read it, then gasped. “You… you signed a marriage contract?!” Tears filled my eyes again. “I didn’t know, Tricia. I thought it was the employment contract. I was so excited, I didn’t check.” Tricia wrapped her arms around me instantly. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe. We’ll figure this out.” I leaned into her hug, letting the silence hold me up. She pulled back and gave me a small smirk. “Well… technically, you’re now the bride of the richest and most eligible bachelor in the country. Girls would kill for your spot.” I let out a weak laugh, wiping my cheeks. “Lucky me, right?” — By 7 p.m., the next shock arrived in the form of a sleek black Rolls Royce. It pulled up like a movie scene, and I just stood there, not knowing whether to run or hide. Out stepped a team of stylists, dressmakers, makeup artists, and even a nail technician. “Miss Linda,” one of them said, bowing slightly. “Mr. Darlington sent us.” Tricia stared at them, then at me. “Wow… I take it back. I’m the lucky one just for being near you.” They whisked me away to the Darlington estate. The mansion wasn’t just grand—it was intimidating. The gates alone looked like they were built for royalty. Every staff member I passed bowed to or addressed me as “Miss Darlington.” It was surreal. I was led into a private dressing room filled with racks of dresses, boxes of shoes, and trays of glittering jewelry. For hours, the glam team transformed me. Curling, blending, powdering, pinning. I sat like a mannequin while they worked, my mind numb. When they were done, I barely recognized myself. The deep emerald gown hugged my body like it was made for me, the silver detailing glimmering softly under the lights. My hair had been curled into cascading waves, my makeup flawless. I stared at the mirror. “Is this… really me?” I whispered. Tricia nodded, eyes wide with admiration. “You look like a queen. And you’d better believe it.” She started taking pictures, while I just kept staring at my reflection. Somewhere deep down, I knew this wasn’t just a makeover. This was a mask. And tonight, I had to wear it like armor. Because no matter how much I sparkled… I was still walking into a trap.
Linda Thompson “Put a damn smile on your face and remember to keep your mouth shut when you don’t understand the question thrown at you. Our history is, We met a year ago at a cuisine event and hit it off,” Christian reminded sternly. I fought the urge not to roll my eyes at him, especially since he has narrated this like a thousand times to me. How to act, what and what not to say in front of his family. Left for me, I wouldn’t even be here but because of that damn contract, I didn’t have a choice. “So… don’t you think your family would find it weird that I’m your girlfriend…” “You’re my wife,” Christian interjected, glaring at me. I swallowed, my nerves picking up. Was I really sure I could do this? Lie in his family’s face? “I don’t have the time for this. I dare you to mess this up for me and your family will bare the brunt of your mistakes. Get out of the car,” Christian said shabbily, getting out of the car and slamming it shut. I moved to open my own side of the door but a man dressed as a waiter opened it for me. “Welcome Mrs. Darlington,” he said with a small bow. I smiled softly at him. “Thank you,” I said once I had stepped out of the car. A gasp left my lips as I took in the giant mansion in front of me that belonged to Christian’s family. It was the kind of houses you would see royalty live in. I noticed there were a lot of men dressed in black with earpiece. “Stop embarrassing me. You’re a Darlington now, act like one. Or at least pretend that you can ever be one,” Christian’s harsh voice came from behind me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered out with my head hung low as i walked to stand beside him. Christian instead walked over and stood in front of me, perhaps a little too close for my liking because I could literally feel his breath on me. He placed two fingers under my chin and raised my head up slowly till my face was at the same level as his. “A Darlington never bows no matter what. I’m sorry if I was too harsh. Now I need you to remember everything we’ve talked about and…” My eyes widened in shock at Christian’s words. Was he actually apologizing? I wasn’t given the time to react as a woman dressed in white pants and shirt walked outside with a wide smile on her face. “Oh my God! You’re both finally here,” she said cheerfully. She walked right straight to me and gave me a warm hug. “You must be Linda, I’m Caroline, your husband’s aunt ,” she said excitedly. I quickly looked at Christian who had his bored and stoic face on and wondered how he had such a happy woman for an aunt . I had imagined his aunt to be the type of woman who would conduct a full interview on you to decide if you were worthy of taking the last name of the family. But she looked different. “I’ve heard so little about you and I’m hoping we can change that tonight over dinner,” she said, her smile still in place. I was nervous and didn’t know how to act. Her warmness had caught me off guard. “aunt , leave her alone okay,” Christian intervened, creating distance between I and his aunt as he held my hand and dragged me to his side. “She’s my daughter in law. I have a right to know her,” his aunt snapped at him before facing me “Anyways, the table is set and we’re all eager to get to know you dear. Come in,” she said with a smile. Christian and I walked into his house hand in hand. There was something different about him and I could feel it. At the entrance of the dining room, Christian stopped abruptly and brushed his cheeks fleetingly against mine. I couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden intimate contact. “Stick to the plan,” he whispered in my ear and then kissed my cheeks before pulling away. My brain could hardly register all that just happened as I blushed profusely. “So yuck! Couples are annoying usually but Couples that are in love are the most annoying ones,” a girl who looked like she could be around my age voiced out loudly. “Let a man love you, Kira. Then perhaps you’ll stop being so bitter,” Christian fired back at her. She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Like you men would ever love a woman for a genuine reason,” she scoffed out. “Kira, what does that even mean? Your father loved me for a genuine reason,” Caroline scolded. “Mama please. If you had not given dad a male child, I’m not so sure how that…” “That’s enough Kira!” An older man said sternly. His voice held so much power and his presence caused a lot of tension. Already, I could tell he was Grandpa Darlington. Christian had taken his time to talk about him because he was a disciplinarian and a traditionalist. He despised change and would never condone not even the slightest tardiness. If I thought Christian was strict, his grandpa was worse. “My grandson has brought home a wife. I’ll like to concentrate on celebrating that than arguing about unimportant topics. Besides, I have a good news of my own to share tonight with eveyone and it concerns you Kira,” Grandpa Darlington said. The whole place was in total silence as he walked to take a seat at the head of the table. It stayed that way until the chef was done serving everyone’s meal. Grandpa Darlington was the one who broke the silence as he cleared his throat. “Dear, what’s your name?” He asked me, his voice calm and friendly. “I’m Linda Tho…I’m sorry. I’m Linda Darlington,” I replied nervously. Grandpa Darlington chuckled softly. “It’s okay. It took my wife a month after we got married for her to stop using her old name. You’ll get used to it soon,” he said. He was sweet and nice, contrast to what I’ve heard about him. “What about your family?” He asked. “Well, my aunt …” “Her aunt is very ill. She’s receiving treatment and her father is late,” Christian interjected. I looked at him sharply but he didn’t react as he continued to eat. “Oh, you poor thing. You must feel really lonely. Well, good thing now you have us now. You’re family and you’re welcome here,” Caroline said. Warmth filled my heart at how kind she was to me, even without knowing me. “Actually, I do have a sister but she stays with…” “Linda, why don’t you tell everyone how you won the competition?” Christian threw in, cutting me off. “Yes! That’s right! I spoke with Judge Naya and she said she has never tasted a meal so good before,” Caroline commented. And that’s how the conversation went from me talking about my family to reliving my experience during the competition. “I don’t get it though,” Kira suddenly said midway as I was speaking. “Get what?” Christian asked sternly. So far, he’s been quiet. “Maybe it’s just me but why get married when you just made such a huge amount of money? Like…” “Kira…” Caroline started out. “No, let her finish, aunt ,” Christian said with a glare fixed on Kira. “Actually, I think I’ve had enough of her foolishness,” Grandpa Darlington said. “It’s time we have a little chat Kira. There has been a proposal for you. The Kirk family and I have decided to get you and their oldest son Maxwell married,” “What!” Kira explained. “Papa?” Caroline asked, shocked , meanwhile Christian sat calmly, without an expression on his face. “I think this arrangement will be good for you too, Linda. In the course of the marriage arrangement and celebrations, you’ll get to meet the rest of the family. So, Kira…” “You can’t marry me off. This isn’t the 17th century where you can just ship a woman off against her will,” Kira snapped. I felt for Kira because my own parents had tried to sell me off. “Kira, you’re getting married and it’s final,” Grandpa Darlington retorted sternly. Kira stood up, her chair screeching loudly on the tiles and walked out of the dining room. “Caroline, talk some sense into your daughter. She’s marrying that boy and there’s nothing that can be done,” Grandpa Darlington said sternly and stood up. He left the dining room huffing and muttering words under his breath. “Christian…” “Don’t even think about it aunt . Maybe this is what’s best for Kira,” he said coldly. “You may not like her beliefs but she’s still your sister. We both know your grandfather will listen to you if you…” “Get up Linda, we’re going home,” Christian said as he stood up. “Christian, for goodness sake! She doesn’t even know the first thing of about being a wife,” “Then maybe you should start teaching her how to be one. Goodnight aunt ,” Christian said. He hooked his hands with mine and dragged me out of the house.
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