"You can marry her!" Pauline Winter screamed, pointing at the door.
Everyone's attention snapped towards the young lady that had just stepped into the room.
The girl's inquisitive gaze scanned their faces as she tried to understand what the statement meant.
"Are... you...?" She began to ask, but her voice was drowned by Pauline's anxious and trembling voice.
"She is already at a marriageable age, you can just take her to be your wife," she said persistently, pointing at her.
Emily stood some distance away, stumped by the scene, unable to wrap her head around what she meant.
Her thoughts swirled with questions;
"Didn't I just return home after an emergency call from my kid sister?"
"Why have I become the target of a marriage proposal?" She muttered to herself.
"Didn't she say it was the loanshark that had come to collect debt?"
No matter how she tried, she couldn't understand what exactly was going on, how and why the topic of marriage was raised… and now being pointed at.
It cannot be a good omen, she thought.
"Mom, what is going on?" She managed to ask, her voice coming barely as a whisper.
But Pauline Winters paid her no mind, rather the cold and brutal voice of the man answered, "Beauty, your… mother wants me to take you as a wife in repayment of their debt."
Like a tornado, the answer crashed on Emily, she felt the room spinning, her eyes blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat.
Several emotions coursed through her… pain, hurt, disappointment, and regret as her frame withered under the weight of the realization.
She slowly inclined her head towards her mother, her gaze probing, her heart hoping she would tell her it was a lie.
But Pauline didn't bother sparing her even a glance. Her gaze was only on the man as though looking away would make her lose her blessings.
Emily found herself gasping for breath, her fist slowly curled by her side. "Mom, is… what the… man saying true?" Emily probed in denial.
Her heart racing with a long line of maybes'; maybe I heard it wrong. Maybe it was a joke, probably it's just to calm the furious man down.
But Pauline's guilty voice snapped her out of her doubts. "My daughter," she called evenly, "... he is right. You can be his wife, he will really take good care of you and you don't have to work so hard."
Pauline Winters was not bothered about how Emily might have felt; rather her pleading gaze was glued on Boss.
She only hoped and prayed he would consider her offer and let them go.
It didn't matter what happened later, as long as she could be set free, as long as the Boss wouldn't hold her and her family accountable, every other thing was fine.
Emily's breath caught in her throat. "What? Take care? Work so hard?... What… is.. the connection here?" Her voice came out in a trembling fury, her eyes widening in horror.
She couldn't believe her mother would suggest such a thing, but here it was loud and clear.
The room went eerily silent for a brief moment, quickly broken as Boss chuckled, his amusement sending chills down Emily's spine.
He tilted his head, his intense gaze focused on Emily, like a commodity displayed in the market for sale as he quietly assessed her, as though he was thinking of what use she might be.
Whatever he had going on in his head was not Emily's business at the moment but the urge to hear the truth.
"Mom, are you really asking him to marry me?" Emily asked, finding her voice again, her heart writhing in pain and anger. She couldn't believe it, she wished she had heard it wrongly.
But Pauline's silence was the answer she needed. Clear as day, she was the scapegoat. She was the one who could be sacrificed for the good of all other people.
Emily moved her mouth to speak but couldn't form a proper word. Finally, her hope was dashed, a mocking smile crept up her lips.
"What was I even expecting?" she muttered.
She had always been the one meant to bear the burden of this pathetic home.
She had been the one to put food on the table.
She had been the one to foot the bills, and now to settle a gambling debt, she had to get married.
"Of what profit do I gain from accepting and treating them as family? For holding onto hope that they will change? I have really been wrong all along."
The Winters had always been parasitic in nature, always leeching off her sweat and blood.
She had to always look up to them, vying for their love, for their acknowledgment, while bearing the pain of exploitation, but it was now clear she could never make their heart beat for her.
"Scarlet, you have to understand the situation and help your parents," Pauline said, her face stained with tears… genuine or mocking, Scarlet wasn't interested to know.
"I know you are a good girl and wouldn't want to see your parents suffer humiliation again and again, or probably lose their life when you can just solve it, right?" she said, holding her gaze.
"What a familiar sentence!" She muttered.
Over the years, it had become one of the sentences that had been said over and over again.
"You wouldn't want to see your parents suffer humiliation."
"You wouldn't want us to lose our life, right?"
"I am sorry, I will make it up to you."
But hearing her say such now left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she couldn't help but wonder if they had truly regarded themselves as her parents.
Her father Philip Winters, noting the flicker of interest in the man's eyes as he stared at Emily, quickly chipped in, his tone more determined. "Yes, she's young, healthy… she'll be of use to you."
Emily's heart skipped several beats in a row that she felt herself losing breath.
She could feel the pressure building, the walls closing in.
She had nothing left; her parents (no, her adoptive parents) were ready to sacrifice her for their greater good. It was unbelievable.
She prayed silently that it wouldn't come to that, that the man would not take the bait or accept their terms.
The man slowly stood up, walking step by step towards her, toying with a cigarette between his fingers while she continuously stepped back, her heart beating against her rib cage, threatening to find its way out.
Scarlet had never felt her life could be so miserable until this moment. "Sir, please I... I.." she tried to speak, but her voice could barely obey her.
Her body shivered and she shut her eyes. She wouldn't dare take a glimpse of his face… his voice was already a horrible tale to her life.
The man stopped just a few inches from her, the smell of his cheap cigarette clung tightly to him.
Slowly, he lifted his hand filled with gold and silver rings to touch her cheek. She felt fear, pain, nausea, and disgust as the calloused hand slowly wiped the tears streaming down her face.
"Beauty, there is no need to cry," the man said in a calm tone.