Page 113 of Daddy's Obsession


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My answer couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just tired of Esteban and my father believing they can step all over me. I’m tired of them controlling every aspect of my life, treating me like a prized possession instead of a human being.

All my life, I’ve dreamed of leaving. Unfortunately, my father has an iron grip on my financial situation. I’ve been forbidden from going to college. I’m not allowed to get a job. Without an education or money of my own, my father ensured my entrapment. Reliant. And in twenty minutes, when I’m forced to walk down the aisle, I’ll inevitably be reliant on Esteban, too.

That’s what they think, anyway.

Because in twenty minutes, I’m going to be long gone.

I gently grasp Claire by the hand and give her fingers a light squeeze. “I’ll fix my own makeup,” I tell her. “Head on down without me. I… need a few moments to collect myself.”

Claire presses her lips into a thin line, squinting as she scrutinizes me from head to toe. “Okay,” she finally mumbles. She doesn’t leave immediately. Instead, she quickly wraps her arms around me in a tight hug and whispers in my ear, “You’re doing the right thing, Willow. Marrying Esteban will absolve all your father’s debts. It’s honorable.”

I force a smile.

Honorable my peachy behind.

I learned a long time ago that my father is a hypocrite. He may be good at controlling my wallet, but he certainly has no control over his own. I won’t pretend to know what sort of business he gets up to for the cartel. All I know is that it’s illegal and incredibly volatile work. The only consistent thing about my father’s dealings is he owes a percentage of it to Esteban Beccerra. Business hasn’t been kind to him in recent years.

Hence getting married against my will.

Taking a deep breath, I rise from my seat and hastily rush over to the vanity mirror. I grab a handful of makeup wipes and start scrubbing at my face like it’s covered in mud. Twenty minutes isn’t a lot of time, but it’s the only window of opportunity I can manage.

Behind me, the door opens softly and shuts quickly after with a softclick. In the vanity’s reflection, I watch as Marianne slips into the room with a large backpack and a change of clothes.

“It’s me,” she whispers. “They think I’m bringing you tea. The guards are all waiting downstairs. It’s now or never, Ms. Allegra.”

Marianne is one of the maids. She’s a mousy little thing, with her beady black eyes, pointed nose, and small mouth. But she’s one of the good ones. Discreet.

Right now, discretion is everything.

I wouldn’t describe us as being particularly close, but she’s the only one who has ever shown me an ounce of kindness. In this prison of a house, she’s the closest thing I have to a friend. I’m more than a little aware of how sad that is.

We move silently and swiftly. She unzips the back of my wedding dress and throws me a pair of jeans, a grey shirt, my winter coat, and a pair of sneakers. My heart pounds in my throat, adrenaline tingling in the tips of my fingers and toes. I feel like I’m dying with every passing second. If I mistime my escape, I’m as good as dead.

“It’s all in here?” I ask her, grabbing the backpack.

Marianne nods. “I swiped your father’s safe combination from his black book last night. I grabbed everything I could. Roughly three thousand in cash.”

I let out a shaky breath. It’s a miracle my father even has the good sense to keep a squirrel fund considering how in the red his accounts are. If Esteban knew he was holding out on him…

Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Three thousand dollars isn’t enough to start my life over completely, but it’s better than nothing. I reach into my bag, pull out the wad of bills, and count out a thousand. It only leaves me with two thousand, but it’s a small price to pay for her silence.

I shove the money into Marianne’s hands. “You speak of this to no one.”

“W-what if they find out it was me?”

“They won’t,” I assure her. “Once they realize I’m missing, they’ll think I broke into my father’s safe. I promise nothing will happen to you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Ms. Allegra. If they catch you…”

“They won’t.” I pull the hood of my coat over my head, concealing my ruined up-do. “Stick to the plan. I’ve only got one shot to make this work.”

“Yes, Ms. Allegra.”

We get to work trashing the place. I toss over the coffee table while Marianne opens the window as wide as it will go. My father thought keeping me locked away in my fourth-floor bedroom before the wedding would deter me from jumping—and it totally has. Shattering my legs will probably hinder the running away portion of my plan.

Once I’m convinced my room is properly destroyed, I walk over to Marianne and ruffle up her hair and clothes.

“Slap me for good measure,” she suggests. When I give her a quizzical look, she says, “It’ll make it look more convincing.”

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