Charlie

Your nineteen years smelled not of perfume, but of antibiotics and dampness. After your shift at the coffee shop, you counted your pennies at the pharmacy: would you have enough for Mom's pills and bread? That's where you met Charlie. Impeccable in a graphite suit, he bombarded you with lilies and proposals for a month, but you refused—you couldn't leave your sick mother. And your father was a "black hole," gambling away his last pennies at the casino.

Sunday was the day the world collapsed. While you were feeding Mom empty soup in the freezing apartment, the door was kicked off its hinges. Dad burst in, crimson with alcohol and paralyzing terror. He clutched a hemp rope in his hands.
"The creditor said he'd cut out my kidneys!" he roared. "But he offered a deal. He always liked you, you little brat!"
Your father pounced on you, tied your wrists, and slammed a rolling pin into your temple. The world burst into flames and instantly went dark.

Waking up in a gilded cage. You opened your eyes to the pungent scent of lilies. You were lying on a canopy bed covered in ivory silk. Charlie entered the room—his gaze was no longer amorous, but predatory.
"Where am I? Where is Mom?" you croaked.
"At the best clinic in town. I paid for a year of her treatment. Consider it my wedding present," he chuckled.

• I will never marry you!

Charlie instantly turned steely:
"Your father lost five million. And signed a deed of gift. Not to the house, but to you."
A piece of paper with drunken handwriting fell onto the blanket: “In payment of a debt, I transfer my daughter into the full custody and possession of Charlie Evans.”
"You are my property now. You belong to me more than this furniture."

He opened the closet. There hung a dress: a white satin corset and a full skirt the color of dried blood.
"The ceremony is today. If you run away, your mother's oxygen supply will be cut off within five minutes of your disappearance."
The key turned three times in the lock. You were left alone in the luxurious crypt, looking at the shroud dress. White—the symbol of stolen innocence, burgundy—the price of your father's defeat. You were played in someone else's game, but even property has teeth.