You know that moment when you realize your life isn't in your hands, yet all you can do is dance to the rhythm for you? Samantha realized that moment, a week after her fight with her father.
Frederick Jones had suddenly collapsed at work, and he was rushed to the nearest hospital. What worsened his situation was the crowd of carnival-goers that clogged the street, blocking and slowing down the ambulance.
When Samantha got to the hospital, he was already in surgery. For hours, she sat outside the operating room. Time dragged by like a never-ending nightmare. Catherine and Natalie sat with her, holding her hands as they prayed in front of the closed doors.
Finally, the doors swung open. Dr. Marian Foster, a bubbly African American woman, stepped out, her expression unreadable.
Samantha stood. "Doctor?" Her voice wavered.
"Your father suffered a heart attack," Dr. Foster said, her tone gentle yet firm. "We did our best, but he's still under observation. We're moving him to intensive care."
Samantha sank into a chair, her world tilting. Her father was her only living relative. If anything happened to him, she would be completely alone.
Natalie squeezed her hand. "He's strong, Sam. He is going to be fine."
Catherine nodded. "Yes, Uncle Fred is tough. Don't overthink it. He will be fine."
"Miss Jones?"
Samantha looked up, heart pounding.
Dr. Foster hesitated before speaking. "A small suggestion."
"Yes? Anything." She shot to her feet, grasping the doctor's hands desperately.
"My patient has been under immense stress. We've done our best, but when he wakes up, he must avoid anything that could strain his heart further. Whatever he wants, let him have it. Keep him happy. No stress."
Samantha nodded. "Ok, yes."
"Good." The doctor turned and walked away.
[|]
Behind the glass window, Samantha and her friends watched as Frederick lay in his hospital bed, wires and tubes in and out of his body. He looked so small. So weak.
The rhythmic beeping of the machines filled the silence. Samantha's chest tightened. Her father, always larger than life, was reduced to this fragile state.
She was terrified.
For two days, he remained unconscious.
By day, Samantha went to work. She projected strength. Acted like she was fine, like all was well, never giving herself the chance to fall apart. If she fell apart, everything her father had built would also fall apart.
By night, she sat at his bedside, holding his hands while whispering prayers into the sterile air. She was crumbling, barely holding on. The thought of being alone suffocated her.
[|]
As the board of directors was having a meeting to remove Frederick Jones as CEO at Jones' corporate office, miles away in Beverly Hills, Samantha walked into Dr. Foster's office.
"Doctor Foster? You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Miss Jones. Please, have a seat." The doctor gestured to the chair opposite her.
"Thank you." Samantha sat and looked at the doctor eagerly.
Dr. Foster studied her carefully. "I think you should get checked in, too. The past few days have been brutal."
Samantha waved her off. "I'm fine. My dad is awake, that's all that matters."
For a split second, something flickered across the doctor's face. Doubt? Pity? It was gone before Samantha could be sure.
"Why did you want to see me? If this is about my health, I assure you—"
"It's about your father," Dr. Foster interrupted softly.
Samantha's breath hitched. "He's... he's fine, isn't he?" Her voice cracked. Sweat trickled down her back. "He is healthy, right?"
Dr. Foster took her hands across the desk. "Your father is-"
"He's fine!" Samantha yanked her hands back and shot to her feet, eyes blazing.
Dr. Foster sighed and stood as well. She gently pulled Samantha into a hug. "Listen to me," she murmured. "Let me finish."
Samantha trembled but didn't pull away.
"Your father is awake and stable," Dr. Foster reassured her. "But he isn't out of the woods yet."
Samantha's body tensed.
"He's not in immediate danger, but to keep him that way, he must avoid stress as I told you before." Dr. Foster stepped back and met Samantha's gaze. "Help him with work so he doesn't have to. Give him reasons to smile. The little things matter."
Samantha closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, then exhaled. "So... if he's not stressed, he'll heal faster?"
"Yes," Dr. Foster smiled. "That's all I was trying to say. I've seen how you carry yourself. I know you can do this. I hear you are in charge of the company already. Continue making sure he is stress-free. Get him anything he wants. Just make things easier for him."
Samantha nodded, her mind racing.
What Frederick Jones needed was not a good employee. She was good at her job—maybe not as good as she thought, or she would have found out about the debt before it blew up in her face.
Whether she was good at her work was not the problem. Frederick had been drowning in stress because he was about to lose everything he had ever worked for.
She excused herself and walked straight to her father's VIP room.
Frederick's face lit up when she walked in. "Samantha!" His smile faded when he saw her expression. "What's wrong?"
She stood at the foot of his bed. "I'll do it."
His brows knitted together. "Do what?"
"I'll marry Dave Rice. Just like you want."
Frederick sat up so fast that his heart monitor beeped in protest. "What?"
"I'll do it," she repeated, her voice hollow.
His face broke into a wide, disbelieving smile. "You're serious? You won't back out?"
She clenched her jaw. "No, Dad. I'll agree with everything."
Frederick opened his mouth, then shut it, blinking as if he couldn't believe his luck. He bit his lip, his emotions threatening to spill over. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you finally came to your senses."
"Me too." Samantha forced a smile, though her heart screamed in protest. "But..." She lifted her chin. "I have one condition."
He listened to her condition without interrupting.
Frederick studied her carefully. He knew better than to push. "Okay," he said slowly. "I don't fully understand why you would want to do this, but if that's what you want, then do it."
"I will. Just stay here and get better."
Frederick exhaled, nodding. "The board probably tried to remove me today."
Samantha stiffened. "What do you mean?"
She had made sure to hide it from him. Who told him? Would he fall sick again because of this? Another wave of fear seeped into her heart.
"You tried to hide it from me, didn't you?" he chuckled. "Don't worry. They can't do anything. The name of the company is still Jones. We own the biggest shares. If they bring up the issue of the funds, well..." He shrugged nonchalantly.
"You sound confident," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"Humans are predictable creatures," he mused. "Don't worry about anything. Everything will fall into place now that you're doing what you should."
His calmness unnerved her. He was acting as if his life wasn't hanging by a thread, as if people weren't scheming to take his company.
She left the hospital an hour later, checking her emails as she walked to her car.
The motion to remove Frederick Jones as CEO has been dismissed.
Her fingers tightened around her phone. Her father turned out to be right. How?
Her father's last words played in her head. His calm, his certainty...
What was she missing? What was it?
[|]
"Ma'am, this is the key to your room. Welcome to Las Vegas."
The receptionist's voice snapped Samantha out of her reverie.
"Oh--yes. Thank you." She beamed at the woman and took the key.
Maybe it was the shift in her own life, but Samantha suddenly found herself noticing the sadness hidden behind people's smiles. The receptionist's heavily painted face couldn't disguise the truth in her eyes—she looked like she would rather be anywhere else than behind that hotel counter.
Samantha walked through the lobby, past rows of beautifully dressed guests, and stepped into the elevator.
Had she truly seen anger in the receptionist's eyes, or was she just projecting her own feelings? Anger at how easily her life had slipped out of her hands? She leaned against the elevator wall, lost in thought.
Catherine and Natalie had promised to check in on her father from time to time, even though he had a live-in nurse. She was grateful for them.
"Sam, if I were marrying into the Rice family, I'd be online stalking every piece of information about them," Catherine had shrieked when she heard about the wedding.
"I know I said I'd only marry for love, but the Rice family kind of money can buy true love!" Natalie had chimed in.
Samantha hadn't told them the real reason behind the marriage. She liked their smiles and didn't want their pity. She promised herself she'd tell them after she returned from Paris. For now, she just wanted to enjoy their antics, the way they made her laugh and stopped her from wallowing in self-pity.
The elevator dinged.
Stepping out, she walked down the hallway toward her room.
Being away from everything made her feel lighter, and once again, she was glad she had made her father agree to her condition.
One month in Paris before the wedding, to do whatever she wanted.
Despite being the daughter of a business mogul, she had never traveled much. Frederick had always been paranoid that she'd be kidnapped if she traveled alone. Fortunately, she never had the urge to travel either. After graduating from university, she had gone straight into working at the company, content with her routine. She had been happy... until now.
Now, she was about to marry a stranger, and she hadn't even seen much of the world outside her comfort zone, so she wanted to change that.
And so, here she was in Nevada. Sin City.
She slid the key card into the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before opening them again, smiling at the beautiful room surrounding her.
Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and she bit her bottom lip playfully. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Hello, Sammy. You are going to be a bad girl starting at this minute." She ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled. "No more Daddy's girl. You are going to be the naughtiest, snarkiest, most bad girl ever."
Samantha laughed at her exaggerated impression of a rebellious vixen.
She had never had a chance to be bad, but the woman staring back at her in the mirror didn't look like Frederick Jones's innocent daughter.
She looked like someone ready to raise a little hell.
For the next three weeks, Samantha made a silent vow to live with no regrets.
Now, onto the first step of her redemption arc...
Step One: Get laid by a stranger. Because why not?
1846/5000
#VOTE#