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“To become a monster.”
“To become strong. Powerful.” Her voice rises, each word cutting through the air with the sharpness of her tongue. “I was born to a lowly farmer, toiling in the fields from the moment I could walk. That was my life. But I desired more. So, when a man took me, when he violated me, I saw it as a blessing. A woman’s beauty may fade, but a man’s power never wanes. It holds true for all women. Our fate is sealed the moment we decide how to navigate the hand we’ve been dealt. I am the matriarch of Nicaragua’s most influential family. Artemus will someday be the president. I made that happen. Me.”
“But you condemn other women to a fate worse than death.”
“If they possess enough strength, they will rise as I did. If not, they will fall. It is not for me to decide. As for you, Artemus is captivated by your presence. If his interest persists, I may allow the union.”
“I have no interest in marriage.”
“Your interest holds no weight. As a wife, or a slave, possibly both, you amuse my son, and he will possess you.”
“Never.”
“It’s either that or death. These are the only outcomes for a woman who defies her purpose.”
“That’s madness.”
“You will serve my son or be buried beneath his feet. Either way, you’ll never be allowed to leave. Thankfully, you possess beauty. With your wealth, you may be able to maintain his interest until the day when your beauty fades, as mine did. Then, all this…” She waves her hand dramatically. “One day, all this will be yours.”
“Never.”
“And that is why you will not survive.” In that singular comment, she dismisses me completely.
I despise this woman, yet I glimpse the twisted reasoning behind her words. She’s a product of her circumstances, her culture, her humble birth, and the beauty that has long since waned. She exists in a world where women are traded like possessions, their worth determined by their appearance and ability to bear sons. Perhaps she sees no reason to believe in change?
But that’s no excuse, and I refuse to accept her distorted perspective on life and the value placed on women.
“Allow me to show you your fate. Perhaps it will sway the decisions you must make.”
“Decisions?”
“Marry my son and betray the Guardians. It is as simple as that. Follow me.” She snaps her bony fingers, making me jump.
I will never succumb to this woman’s delusions, but faced with four guards at my side, I have no choice but to follow wherever she leads.
Matilda turns away, leading me down into a different part of the basement. It is a dark, damp, and chilling place. The scent of sweat and fear hangs heavily in the air. Cages line the walls, packed with scores of frightened women and girls of all ages. They gaze at us with hollow eyes, silently pleading for help that will never come.
“These are our current assets.” Matilda proudly gestures toward the captive women. “Soon, they will be auctioned off to the highest bidder.” Her gaze appraises me from head to toe. “You can provide us with the information we seek that might prevent that. Marry my son, join forces with him. Or join these women once my son tires of you. The choice is yours.”
I shudder at her words; a sickening feeling grips my stomach as I contemplate the harrowing fate that awaits these unfortunate women. Sold into servitude or worse. Matilda draws nearer, her voice a low whisper as she speaks again.
“Women have forever been objects of desire for men, possessions to be controlled and owned. Their worth in life determined by their beauty.”
Matilda leads me back up the stairs to the main floor. There, she pauses and looks down her nose with those sharp hawkish eyes.
“The guards will escort you back to your cell and I will give you time to think about what we’ve discussed. Speak to your Guardian down there, convince him not to make the whole process distasteful and difficult. All we want to know is what the Guardians know, and what they’re planning next. Election season is fast approaching, and with Maximus Angelo disgraced, it’s up to Artemus to make it work. With your family’s wealth, and your pretty face, you might just be the perfect acquisition to ensure my son’s success.”
“I won’t do that.” I shake my head. “I’ll never do that.”
“Then you will suffer, as will your Guardian. Our torturers can be quite creative. Ultimately, it’s up to you.”
“You want me to turn my back on everything I believe? Marry a monster who ruins lives? Serve him?”
“My dear, I wish for your survival.” The sinister gleam in her eyes deepens. “Am I mistaken in assuming you would do anything to protect your Guardian? Or did I misunderstand the bond you share?” She spins around, leaving me trembling in her wake. I remain there, back stiff, heart pounding within my chest, throat constricted by fear. But then, she turns once more, her eyes narrowing with intensity. “Inform your Guardian we have removed the trackers.”
“The trackers?”
She smiles a sly grin. “Seems he doesn’t share everything with you, which is expected. You perceive yourself as his equal, yet he lacks enough trust to share even the most fundamental details. Irony at its finest.”
