Chapter 2 - A Chance Encounter

Letisha’s POV

I couldn’t help but laugh. How stupid could I be? I almost believed him when he said he wanted to make things right. This was ridiculous!

‘You’re such an idiot, Leti!’ I scolded myself silently.

I sighed wearily and finally lifted my head to face my father. He and Fiona had their eyes trained on me. His with a sort of nervous impatience—a surprise to be sure, and Fiona with that same glee from earlier. 

Well, I supposed this explained why she hadn’t been ignoring me since I’d arrived. She must be delighted at the thought of me being married off. I glanced over to Gabriella to see her watching me with an expression mirroring her daughter’s. How disappointed they were all going to be.

“You want me to get married,” I repeated calmly, returning my attention to my father. “Why?”

He blinked at me, as if he was confused by my question, but then he cleared his throat and responded. “As I said, I’ve neglected you for far too long and—”

“And you’ve decided that the way to make up for that is to pawn me off to some random man I’ve never met,” I interrupted. 

“That is no way to speak your father, young lady,” Gabriella scolded.

I ignored her. 

My father’s cheeks reddened—a sign of his upset. 

“I have found a husband from a prestigious family that is worthy of your background. He’s very capable and will ensure you want nothing. Once you’re married, you can stay home and live a comfortable life. I am doing this for your own good, Letisha.”

I scoffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m in my final year of school. You haven’t been so concerned about my own good for the past four years, yet you expect me to believe this is for my benefit?”

“Yeah, you almost finish your college. Then what?  You still need to find a job to afford your own life. Marrying someone rich could help you live a better life.” My father said.

“I don’t think so.” I knew I was being sneaky, but I just couldn’t help it, “I think you’re making yourself live a better life.”

“Letisha!” Fiona gasped out in exaggerated outrage, “That’s not fair! Daddy has been working hard for the entire family! I know you might be upset with him, but he’s simply been so busy.”

‘Yes, yes. Simply so busy, he’s only had time to attend to one daughter instead of two.’

“Right,” I muttered, pushing back to my feet. 

“I guess this is the part where I thank you for your consideration and the generous offer,” I injected sarcasm into every word. “But I’m going to have to decline the offer.”

“It wasn’t an offer, child,” my father announced with finality. 

My hands fisted at my side. “I’m not getting married. Certainly not to a stranger of your choosing.”

I turned to leave the room, but his next move froze me. “You have an obligation to this family, Letisha.”

I spun around to give him a disbelieving look. I couldn’t believe my ears. An obligation? To this family? How could he think he had a right to decide my future after he’d spent so many years ignoring me?

And why would my marriage be considered an obligation to this family?

As soon as the thought occurred, the answer followed behind it. 

“What?” I muttered out loud. 

My father shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but his expression remained firm when he responded, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Forget all that bullshit about making compensations or obligation. As your daughter, I know exactly who you are,” I crossed my arms tight against my chest, “The only thing that'd make you rush into this marriage is benefit. Enough to make you give in. What’s it?”

My father shifted uncomfortably. It was not easy to admit he'd used his daughter as bargaining chip , even for him. He was not a good father, but he'd never admit it.

"This isn't just for me. It's for you too," he lied smoothly. "Actually, the company is facing a little problem. Nothing serious if we get investors."

I got the point. "So you pimped out your own daughter for funding? What a brilliant trade."

My father’s face turned thundercloud dark. "You think you'll benefit if this family collapses? A girl with no education or manners should be grateful to marry into wealth!"

Hot blood shot through my veins.

"Please allow me to remind you.  I haven't taken a dime from you since college. This 'family' can burn for all I care." My voice turned Arctic. "Though if this deal's so sweet, save it for Fiona. She's still failing college, so technically even less educated than me."

Fiona flushed tomato-red. My father's composure snapped. The slap came before I registered his movement. My head whipped sideways, copper blooming on my tongue.

"Ungrateful bitch!" he roared.

My cheek burned, but no tears came. I flung my coffee in his face, walking out as his enraged shouts shook the chandeliers.

When I stepped out of the familiar house, tears finally spilled over. Not for myself, but for the happy days mom and I had here. I once held out hope for that man. But now, not anymore.

Though I’d stood my ground against dad, the bitter truth hit me soon. I wasn’t actually self-sufficient yet. First, I should find a job. Second, get steady income. If I want to survive without family support, it was necessary.

The good thing was I had Michael, my boyfriend.  He once suggested me to stay over to stay over at his place, but that felt too…much. He often teased me about being too conservative, but then turned around and said that’s one of the things he loved about me. I felt bad that I couldn’t feel relaxed enough to give him everything he wanted, but I told myself it was because we were both so busy. Aside from school, he also worked at his father’s company, and I had to deal with working so I could save up as well. 

Once we both graduated, things could change. Once we were married…

I pulled out my phone and dialed Michael’s number. I always felt better after talking to him. 

“Hey, babe. Did you get home okay?” he answered.

“Okay is debatable. Do you have time to meet for lunch? I want to tell you something.”

“Um…sorry. I have a meeting in twenty minutes. It’s a planning meeting, so I’m not sure how long it will run for…”

I squashed my disappointment. I thought he wouldn’t start working again until next week, but maybe his schedule had changed. 

“Oh. That’s okay. I understand.”

“You always do. That’s why I love you. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow.”

I ended the call and continued my walk but paused when a noise to my left caught my attention. 

The turn-off from the alley was a narrow footpath and looked to be the back of a building. It was a bit darker than the main alley, even though it was early afternoon—the building’s roof overhanging to shade it from direct sunlight.

I squinted at the figure hunched beside a stack of crates. I was close enough to make out that it was a man wearing a dark suit, but his position and the poor lighting didn’t reveal any other detail.

I took a hesitant step toward him, “Sir? Are you okay?”

I paused and then dashed forward when the figure collapsed onto the ground, as if he’d lost strength in his legs. 

By the time I made it to his side, he was struggling to get to his feet again.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?” I asked frantically, reaching out to help him up. Before I could, he reacted much more swiftly than I’d thought he would be capable of—one hand shot out and pulled me into his chest while the other covered my mouth to trap the scream that rose. 

On instinct, I began to struggle against him, apprehension replacing my earlier concern. Despite the appearance of his weakness earlier, his hold on me remained firm. Had he been faking? Was this some elaborate plot to lure some innocent fool over so he could grab them?

It would be just my luck to get kidnapped while trying to help someone. On top of everything else that had happened today, the thought re-sparked my anger, and I resumed my struggle anew. I managed to jab my elbow into his side, and he grunted as if in pain, but he didn't loosen his hold. In fact, his grip tightened.

“Quiet!” he hissed next to my ear. “Or we’ll both be dead.”

On the heels of his reproach, heavy footsteps echoed in the alleyway I’d just been on. I stilled. I wasn’t sure what was happening here, but I could sense the seriousness of his words.

“Are you sure he came this way?” a voice sounded.

“Where else could he have gone? If we don’t find him, we don’t get paid,” another voice answered.

“Let’s check through here,” the first voice suggested, and I felt my captor stiffen against me.

I quickly assessed the situation. These men seemed to be looking for him. I could resume my struggle and hope they discovered us and that I could get away, but on instinct, I remained still, not yet sure who the bad guy in this situation was. Not that my compliance would help much since it appeared they were headed this way. 

“Over here!” a third voice sounded. This one was much farther away and in the opposite direction. 

“Let’s go,” the first voice said, and the footsteps echoed once more until they faded. 

I waited until enough time had passed for them to leave the alley before I tried escaping his hold. This time, his hands fell away instantly, making me feel a bit better about my decision to remain quiet. 

Still, he shouldn’t go around grabbing unsuspecting women like that. I spun to face him in order to give him a piece of my mind, but my breath caught in my throat at my first good look at him. 

Dark eyes glared down at me in suspicion beneath hooded lids and equally dark lashes. His strong jaw was clenched stubbornly. A proud nose and a disapproving scowl completed the picture of intimidation he made. He wasn’t standing to his full height—his frame hunched over as he leaned against the wall for support— but he was still looming over me. This wasn’t the type of man someone could casually scold. 

I took an instinctive step back, my earlier bravado fading, but paused in my retreat when he let out a soft curse and clutched at his side. 

I let out a surprised gasp when my eyes followed the movement and saw his fingers coated with blood. Blood that was steadily dripping from a wound at his side. 

I fumbled for my purse to reach for my phone, but a hand grabbed my wrist to stop me. 

“What are you doing?” he groaned out, his breathing labored. 

“You’re bleeding,” I stated, as if it weren’t already obvious, “and there are people after you. I can call the police—”

“No police!” he snapped, his grip tightening painfully. I winced, but didn't try to escape his hold. I knew my attempt would be futile. 

I raised a brow at that. Oookay… “An ambulance.”

He shook his head once. “No… hospital.”

I frowned in concern as his words began to slur, and his hold on me weakened until his hand fell away. 

“You’re injured. And you’re losing a lot of blood—”

“No…” he interrupted again.

I started to insist, but my eyes widened in horror as his eyes shut, and he slid to the ground—unconscious.