Chapter Three
KAMIYAH
The quiet, downtown mid-morning streets, devoid of the afternoon traffic and hectic holiday shoppers, are a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing in my mind.
Sitting in the back seat of the taxi, my fingers tremble as I read and reread the threatening message on my phone.
It’s a simple, chilling sentence: “Come home immediately or Anna will pay the price.”
Anna is the one person my family uses to bend me to their will.
The thought of harm befalling her is unthinkable when each day she struggles to survive.
Because of me. The closer I get to my family’s mansion, my childhood home, the harder my heart pounds in my chest. It’s fear.
The same fear that always grips me when I don’t know what my aunt and uncle’s plans are.
The road begins its winding trail to our beachfront property. Each stop sign is a signal to run in the opposite direction. The shadows cast onto the road from the overhanging branches of a tree feel like lurking danger.
My childhood home comes into view, but I don’t recognize it. There’s no joy or love here. No laughter. It’s quiet. Too quiet. And the first steps into a house I no longer belong to are cold despite the warm ocean breeze blowing through the open windows.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and knock before entering the library. The door swings open, revealing my aunt Priscilla sitting in the chair behind my father’s desk while my uncle Maxwell stands beside her, a glass of brandy in his hand.
“Kamiyah,” Priscilla greets, her voice smooth as silk and twice as insidious. “Please come in.”
She’s long given up pleasantries or asking after my wellbeing, and frankly, I prefer this to pretense. But I can’t deny that my heart breaks a little more at every interaction.
Priscilla waves me into the room, but I hesitate. The room smells of jasmine mingled with wood and aged books. Any trace of the familiar scent of my dad’s aftershave is long gone.
“Why am I here?” I should be visiting Anna, not playing their games. I glance toward Maxwell for any hint of what’s happening. He’s always been the more readable of the two, but with the brandy fortifying his courage, his expression is unreadable. Detached.
“Sit down, Kamiyah.” Priscilla gestures to the pair of chairs behind me.
I turn to comply and see Damian, the nephew of my aunt’s closest friend, meekly sitting in the opposite chair. He barely acknowledges me before his gaze quickly flickers away as if he wishes to be anywhere but in this room, leaving me more confused about what’s going on.
“We have a proposition for you,” Priscilla begins, her tone businesslike.
Maxwell clears his throat. “Like an opportunity, if you will.”
My heart sinks. Showering the Remington name with praises in public is difficult enough when I know how vicious my aunt and uncle are behind closed doors. Am I now supposed to help Damian do the same for his family after his most recent allegations?
He’s accused of spiking more than one woman’s drink, and the most recent is barely eighteen. I grimace, not trying to hide my disgust.
I close my eyes and exhale. This is just another ploy, and a scheme.
Priscilla leans forward, sliding a thick envelope across the desk. “Inside you’ll find documents that require your signature,” she says, her voice weighted with little charity. “They grant us guardianship over your future offspring and a share of their future earnings.”
I jerked, my mind reeling. I looked from my aunt to my uncle’s cold features, then to Damian’s guilty grimace.
He knew, but even he found the proposition distasteful.
My family has never been this cruel or vicious in their demands.
While I’d long given up the thought of having anything of my own, that doesn’t mean I’d give them guardianship of my future children.
Especially after the hell they put me and Anna through.
“You can’t be serious,” I stammer.
“Oh, but we are,“ Maxwell says, “and there’s more.”
“A woman of our standing must secure her future.” Priscilla’s eyes gleam with a predatory glint.
I stiffen. “What does that even mean?”
“It means we’ve arranged a marriage for you,” she says, ”a union that will secure both our family’s legacy and your financial future.”
My breath caught in my throat. An arranged marriage? This isn’t a choice; it’s a trap, and I’m too angry to figure out their ploy. Stay calm, Kamiyah. Though every fiber in my body is shouting for me to scream, yelling has never gotten me anywhere.
“If you marry and produce heirs within a year,” Maxwell adds, “we will grant you an active seat on the board of Haven Crest.”
“What about the family company?”
Maxwell clears his throat. “We thought you’d want to be close to your sister. But if you prefer a different charity….”
“No, no,” I say quickly.
“We’ll also allow you to choose your public appearances,” Priscilla continues. “And of course Anna will continue to live.”
My chest hurts. Followed by despair. This isn’t just another scheme.
This time is different; Anna’s life hangs in the balance.
The room spins around me, and the heaviness of their ultimatum crashes over me.
My lips part, already knowing the answer, yet my mind still reaches for any glimmer of hope to make their demands bearable. “Who,” I whisper, “who am I to marry?”
“Damian, dear,” my aunt says with glee.
I flinch. Of all the men in Starlight, of course they chose the sexual predator.
My freedom and future traded for Anna’s safety. What choice did I have?
Remembering Dr. Keye saying Priscilla and Maxwell visited Anna at the time of her seizure, I asked, “What do you mean Anna will continue to live?”
Priscilla leans against her chair. “Let’s not pretend, Kamiyah; we both know Anna’s state and her chances of recovery. Would your parents want her to remain in a vegetative state indefinitely?”
“She isn’t in a vegetative coma!” I snap. “She breathes on her own, and until her last seizure, there were signs she’s still there. Even the doctors agree her brain shows signs of repair…”
Priscilla raises her hand. “Nevertheless, it’s been years, Kamiyah, and it’s extremely difficult for your uncle and me to see her suffering like this.”
Difficult for them?
“Our proposition allows you to focus on Anna and her recovery, and us to focus on the Remington family legacy.”
My mind is a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, desperation.
Since the death of my parents, I’ve been a pawn in a game I never agreed to play.
Slowly, I unclenched my fist, trying to regain any semblance of composure, to buy time and think.
“I need to see Anna,” I say, unable to hide the turmoil coursing through my body.
“Anna is safe for now,” Priscilla assures, “but your decision must be made soon.” My aunt’s greed is barely concealed.
I nod, knowing I have little choice but to play along. I stand on legs that feel like jello, clutching the envelope as if it were a lifeline.