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Sealed Deal

VALERIE’s POV

It had been about three weeks since I lost my job, and I'd been working only at night at the club. That son of a bitch never missed a day there; if only I could get close to him one more time.

I would strangle him, ensuring he felt every ounce of pain he inflicted on me. I watched as his lustful gaze fixed on me, heaven only knows the filth traversing his mind.

Our paths crossed too often for it to be mere coincidence. I wouldn’t call it fate, nor luck—just my misfortune to always meet the worst kind of people.

We encountered each other at a lavish wedding in town where I was working as a waitress for the day. Who would've thought that rich people had time for weddings?

Whenever we saw each other, we pretended to be strangers, but he never missed an opportunity to taunt me. He even called me a stalker—imagine that, after everything he did! If he tried anything stupid at the event, I was ready to fight back, regardless of his wealth and power.

Returning home exhausted, I headed straight for the shower, hoping to wash away the sorrow that had drained me. I lingered for hours, mourning my lost job.

If I could turn back time, I would avoid crossing paths with such a monster.

I despised him for what he had done. The memories of the pain he caused, from losing my job to constantly attacking my self-esteem, were vivid in my mind.

Once, he called me a "poor, ugly waitress." Those words cut deep. As I lay in the bathtub, trying to erase those memories, I remembered the check that the rich middle-aged woman gave me at the restaurant.

I leaped from the bath, my towel clutching my form, highlighting my thighs as it failed to cover them completely.

I found the check, address, and phone number in my wardrobe. After calling and getting no response, I waited a few hours before trying again.

This time she answered after the third ring.

"Hello, good day ma'am."

"Good day, who is this, please?"

"It’s Valerie Sanchez."

"Okay?"

"Am I speaking with...” Oh crap! I didn't know her name, but thankfully it was written on the check.

"Mrs. Brentwood?" I blurted out. Learning she was Mrs. Brentwood explained Mr. Felix's excitement when she visited the restaurant and the respect she commanded from everyone there.

The Brentwoods were the most influential family in North Hill, and she had proposed I marry her only son. What a twist of fate! Marrying into the city's most powerful family definitely redefined my luck.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“I asked if you have an appointment with her?”

“No, but please inform her that Valerie Sanchez is calling.”

He ended the call, and minutes later, I received a message:

Meet me here:

House No. 234, Brentwood Mansion.

Dressing quickly, I took a cab to the address. As I confirmed my arrival, the mansion’s splendor astounded me—I could easily get lost in its grandeur.

Mrs. Brentwood welcomed me herself, her warmth making me feel cherished. Contrary to my belief that all wealthy people were arrogant, meeting her changed my perspective.

"Welcome, my dear. I thought you'd never call," she said, embracing me warmly. "I've been expecting your call since you left the restaurant."

Her happiness was evident as she led me inside.

"So tell me, my child, do you accept my offer?"

Given my circumstances, I wasn't in a position to refuse. "Yes, ma’am. I will marry him."

"Oh, thank you, my child. You've made me so happy. We’ll make the first deposit into your account immediately. But first, let's go see my son at the palace."

Palace? There was more than just the mansion? Their wealth was truly staggering. She must have noticed my astonishment and smiled.

"You haven't seen the last of our properties. Come, let's go."

Following her to the garage, I marveled at the collection of luxury cars, unlike any I had ever seen.

During our ride to the Brentwood Palace, Mrs. Brentwood broke the silence, sensing my tension.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll live with you both at the palace when you're married, okay?"

"Okay, mother," I replied, warming up to the idea of calling her that.

Arriving at the palace, I couldn't help but marvel at its magnificence. Inside, maids bustled about as Mrs. Brentwood inquired about her son.

"He’s upstairs, ma’am," one maid replied.

She turned to me. "Make yourself comfortable while I fetch him."

"Son? Oliver?" I mused. Oliver—what a charming name for an arrogant man. I watched her ascend the stairs, only to return moments later with an announcement that her son would be down shortly.

She produced a document from an envelope, urging me to sign quickly as it was the contract between us. According to her, it needed to be signed before her son made his appearance.

Without hesitation, I affixed my signature to the contract and handed it back to her.

As I continued to admire my surroundings, I suddenly sensed another's presence in the room.

"Mom, here I am," came a voice, deep and laced with strength, as he embraced his mother.

"Son, meet the girl I've been telling you about—the one I'd find you if you didn't manage to do so yourself by today."

He scanned me briefly and conceded with a smirk, "Yes Mom, you've outdone yourself, especially judging by her figure."

"You pervert! Is that all you notice?" she scolded, though her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Ouch, okay, I'm sorry, Mom," he replied with a grin that barely masked his lack of remorse.

"Valerie, turn around and meet him properly," she instructed.

Reluctantly, I turned to face my future husband, and my heart sank. The shock was palpable.

"You?!" The word slipped from my lips before I could contain it. My head dropped in mortification at the realization that the man who had been the bane of my existence for the past week, driving me to exhaustion, was to be my spouse. I had unwittingly bound myself to the devil incarnate.

Oliver simply stood there, his smile one of contempt rather than pleasure, which his mother misunderstood as approval, just as she misconstrued Valerie's bowed head as shyness.

Her maternal pride glowed as she observed us. "I knew he'd take a liking to you," she declared contentedly.

Oh, Mother, if only you understood the gravity of your matchmaking—you have mixed oil with water, two elements never meant to blend. With a heavy heart, I eyed the envelope still in her grasp, wishing desperately to rescind the commitment enshrined within. A silent plea for divine assistance passed my thoughts.

"I'll leave you both to get better acquainted," she said, oblivious to the underlying tension.

My plea was desperate. "No, no, please don't go," I implored, gripping her hand.

But she dismissed my apprehension as mere bashfulness. "Don't worry, Valerie, you'll be fine," she reassured me with a knowing wink before ascending once more.

A sense of impending doom settled over me. How could I possibly convey the danger of being left alone with this monstrous man?

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