The Price of Family, The Cost of Love

The Price of Family, The Cost of Love

Gavin

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The university acceptance letter, a full scholarship, felt like my ticket out of our forgotten town. I was Chloe Davis, and for eighteen years, I' d studied, dreamed of this escape. But when I showed it to my father, Robert, his eyes didn' t gleam with pride, but with a calculating hunger I knew too well. He announced a "celebration," but it was no party-it was a twisted auction. Middle-aged men, reeking of stale beer, assessed me like livestock, stuffing cash into my father' s pockets as he paraded me around. A churning dread solidified in my gut: I was the prize. My mother, Susan, stood by, a ghost of a smile plastered on her face, turning away when my eyes pleaded for help. When I tried to escape Frank Miller' s sweaty grip, my father' s fury erupted. "Smile, Chloe," he hissed. "Don't you dare embarrass me." Later, for a piece of pie, he backhanded me across the face, leaving me bleeding and dizzy on the kitchen floor. My mother' s only reaction was a sigh of annoyance before she followed him, leaving me in the dark. Lying there, the truth hit me: their "love" was a lie; I was merely a commodity. Then, from their bedroom, I heard it-the monstrous plot. "Frank wants to marry her... a fifty-thousand-dollar 'dowry.' Enough for Kevin's wedding." "She's a good girl, deep down. She just needs to understand that this is for the good of the family. It's her duty." My entire life, my body, my future, sold to an old man to pay for my cousin' s wedding and my father' s gambling debts. But the final dagger was my mother' s next whisper, my father' s rough affirmation: Kevin wasn't my cousin. He was my half-brother, my father' s illegitimate son with his sister-in-law, the golden boy for whom I had always been second, always sacrificed. Every childhood slight, every dismissal, every manipulation clicked sickeningly into place. They hadn't wanted me to succeed; they had kept me small, easy to sell. The girl who craved their love died on that cold kitchen floor. A cold, hard resolve took root: they had a plan for my future, a prison disguised as a marriage. But I had a plan too. They thought I was a compliant girl. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

Introduction

The university acceptance letter, a full scholarship, felt like my ticket out of our forgotten town.

I was Chloe Davis, and for eighteen years, I' d studied, dreamed of this escape.

But when I showed it to my father, Robert, his eyes didn' t gleam with pride, but with a calculating hunger I knew too well.

He announced a "celebration," but it was no party-it was a twisted auction.

Middle-aged men, reeking of stale beer, assessed me like livestock, stuffing cash into my father' s pockets as he paraded me around.

A churning dread solidified in my gut: I was the prize.

My mother, Susan, stood by, a ghost of a smile plastered on her face, turning away when my eyes pleaded for help.

When I tried to escape Frank Miller' s sweaty grip, my father' s fury erupted.

"Smile, Chloe," he hissed. "Don't you dare embarrass me."

Later, for a piece of pie, he backhanded me across the face, leaving me bleeding and dizzy on the kitchen floor.

My mother' s only reaction was a sigh of annoyance before she followed him, leaving me in the dark.

Lying there, the truth hit me: their "love" was a lie; I was merely a commodity.

Then, from their bedroom, I heard it-the monstrous plot.

"Frank wants to marry her... a fifty-thousand-dollar 'dowry.' Enough for Kevin's wedding."

"She's a good girl, deep down. She just needs to understand that this is for the good of the family. It's her duty."

My entire life, my body, my future, sold to an old man to pay for my cousin' s wedding and my father' s gambling debts.

But the final dagger was my mother' s next whisper, my father' s rough affirmation: Kevin wasn't my cousin.

He was my half-brother, my father' s illegitimate son with his sister-in-law, the golden boy for whom I had always been second, always sacrificed.

Every childhood slight, every dismissal, every manipulation clicked sickeningly into place.

They hadn't wanted me to succeed; they had kept me small, easy to sell.

The girl who craved their love died on that cold kitchen floor.

A cold, hard resolve took root: they had a plan for my future, a prison disguised as a marriage.

But I had a plan too.

They thought I was a compliant girl.

They were about to find out how wrong they were.

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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