Page 8 of Captive Bride

“Mom, I’m right here. You can say this to me. I’m not a doll for you to just dress up. Come on, tell me more about the Governor and just how much money he has,” I say, the champagne obviously starting to get to my head a little bit.

She looks at me with disappointment written all over her face.

“Isobel, I don’t know why you have to be so sulky all the time. Your father and I have gone to great lengths to make this match for you. Be happy. You’re going to be living in the Governor’s mansion and be inside for all the most important social events. What more could you ask for?”

I turned towards her and say, “How about love? What about love, mother? Don’t people marry for love? Didn’t you even consider that?”

She looks at me like I’m insignificant and like my words and opinions mean nothing because it’s true...they don’t mean anything to anyone around here.

“Don’t be silly, Isobel. No one marries for love anymore. They marry for capital gain. And the Governor is essentially the most important person you can marry in this town.”

I sigh and take another drink of my champagne.

My mother has one thing on her mind—money. She’s never cared about me or my happiness. She cares about the image of me and my happiness.

She forgets about me immediately and starts telling the makeup and hair people exactly what to do. She controls my image all the time, from top to bottom. It’s the only thing she’s good at, making me beautiful.

She’s used to coming in here and transforming the moody girl into a bright Capulet princess. I have to play my role tonight just like every other night. I know if I don’t, my father will make me pay.

He knows how to get to me, by taking away the people I love. He’s made the threat several times already and the thought of him removing my beloved Thelma—or Theo—from my life, well, it’s just too much. And if there’s one thing I know about my father, it’s that he never makes an empty threat.

My father is a powerful man, but he’s powerful in the worst kind of way.

He’s a disciplinarian and unkind.

I avoid him at all costs. And I’m not required to see him very often.

But these events are crucial to him. He wants to present his perfectly beautiful and docile daughter. What he doesn’t know is that inside of me, somewhere, there’s a fire raging, dying to be released.

I’m that close to losing my shit.

I’m over him, and I’m over this life.

Tonight, I’ll have to play my part as usual, but, in the back of my mind, I’m always planning how to escape.

Then, what will my father do?

He’ll go fucking ballistic, and that’s a sight I want to see.

My mother holds up a white, lacy gown with plenty of room to show some skin. It looks like a wedding dress already, and I have to tame my beating heart as I break out into a small sweat of fear.

“Is it hot in here?” I say to no one in particular.

This is really happening.

If I don’t get out soon, I’m really going to have to sleep with the old son-of-a-bitch.

“This one,” she says as she hands the gown to Patrick. “Goodbye, Isobel. Please try to look happy tonight. You know how your father is.”

My mother takes her leave.

As soon as soon as she shuts the door, I feel anger coursing through my veins.

Finally, I find my voice.

“Everyone, leave. I want every single person out of this room,” I say.

They look at me in surprise because in their opinion, my image isn’t yet perfect.

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