Family Pact

Chapter Two

Mr. Damian!

Nathan called out, his head bowed down while he was speaking on the phone to Mr. Damian Vandash, the proposed groom and husband.

Unmoved by the accounts and events, Damian coldly concluded that everything must have been orchestrated by the bride herself.

In the corner, old man Mr. Samson looked at his reflection in the mirror-like wall, but his actual interest was in seeing his victimized grand daughter-in-law, who was in the operating room.

The quiet corridors of the hospital sounded like a grieving lament. When the doctor emerged from the operating room and finally announced that the patient was out of danger, only then did the old man's tense heart find peace. He had been saved by his wronged grand daughter-in-law right at the altar, an act that nearly yielded her shame, and from that moment, he knew he was indebted to her.

With a relieved smile, he turned to Nathan and said, "For my gracious daughter-in-law, prepare a family welcome banquet; let her feel the love her husband had failed to give her on her marital day. Let her forget that she spent her marital night as a wife in this hospital."

The old man paused, his eyes clouded with resolve. For long, he had made countless enemies, but he had least expected they would strike on his son's wedding.

Somewhere far from the hospital, Aria woke up, feeling dizzy and weak, her legs numb and sore. She pushed open the restroom door and stepped out, her gaze immediately drawn to the television mounted on the wall.

Reporters filled the screen, their voices heavy with concern as they delivered updates on the Vandash wedding procession, an event that had turned into a haunting mix of blood and white.

At once, she recalled the events that had taken place before she passed out. Fear and surprise triggered in her heart, crawling across her skin, as the atmosphere around her suddenly felt cold and deadly.

Still staring at the television, she caught a brief glimpse of the bride being lifted into the ambulance.

Aria felt a shock through her heart and without hesitation,  she spun towards the door and rushed out of the bridal chamber.

Policemen stationed outside quickly noticed her and moved up to stop her.

"What are you doing inside here, young lady?" one asked, his tone mixed with curiosity, care, and suspicion.

"You are now a major suspect," another officer stated bluntly.

A major suspect?

The words spun in Aria's heart as confusion and awe twisted her thoughts. What exactly had happened? The news was all contradicting her memory.

Her eyes darted around the scattered hall from the corner until she caught a glimpse of it on the table. Blood stains were smeared across the table, more splattered on the floor. Fear and unease grew deep and dark within her.

She recalled her last moments with Isabella: being grabbed, choked, and then nothingness before she passed out.

The details and events weren't adding up; everything felt fabricated on its own.

Her knees trembled as she tried to step forward. The room spun violently, her vision seemed blurry, until she collapsed finally into the arms of one of the officers. She fainted.

As soon as the officer lifted Aria into his arms, another followed closely behind as they made their way out of the hall, unaware of the inevitability waiting for them.

The moment they stepped outside, the building behind them, once a monument of luxury and prestige, erupted in a violent explosion.

The blast hurled the officers and the unconscious Aria to the ground as they instinctively shielded themselves.

Inside, officers who managed to escape stumbled out through smoke and debris. Reporters and journalists ran backward in panic. Chaos swallowed the scene. Shouts, sirens, and more victims collapsing amid the wreckage.

The horrifying moment was broadcast live, narrated by trembling reporters and media houses.

From afar, Damian watched the unfolding disaster from his home. At the hospital, Mr. Samson stared at the screen, slowly shaking his head in disbelief and sorrow. Nathan stood nearby, unmoved, daring not to utter a word.

As Mr. Samson turned away, Nathan reached for the remote and switched off the television, plunging the room into silence. Only the gentle, rhythmic beeping of the monitor remained, marking the steady breath of a sleeping and recovering Isabella.

Night came after a long day. Sarah, the chief maid and chef of the Vandash family, sat on the chair beside Isabella with a box of food on her lap. Worried and eager for Isabella's awakening, she picked up the wiper from the drawer beside her, attempting to wipe Isabella's face, but before the wiper could touch her face, Sarah noticed Isabella's hands moving slowly and out of rhythm.

The body and soul were waking before the eyes and voice. Sarah instantly sat back, slowly tapping Isabella's hands for more reactions, but was stunned by the response she got.

Isabella quickly got up like a ghost in a horror movie, instantly grabbing Sarah's arm. As their eyes met, Isabella's eyes, like murderous gems, planted fear and terror in Sarah's body as Sarah struggled for release.

At this moment, old Mr. Samson walked inside the room, stunned by the scene. He shook, almost falling but caught by Nathan. He instinctively spoke up with fear and respect, his old voice wrenched: "My child."

The moment Isabella and Sarah heard his voice, Isabella felt a sharp pain in her body. Her eyes turned normal, and the monitor that had paused minutes ago when she woke up began beeping again. Her back ached from the gunshot earlier, making it worse. The activities of the wedding came spinning into her memory like a rainbow after a heavy storm. She instinctively grabbed her head while crying in pain.

Mr. Samson quickly rushed forward, while Sarah made way for him. He dropped his staff as Nathan left to call the doctor.

"My dear daughter-in-law," Mr. Samson spoke while rubbing her hands together. "Thank heavens you are awake. I was so worried. You just focus on getting well; I know I owe you an explanation."

His eyes could express the gratitude of a grateful person. When the doctor walked in with Nathan, Isabella had a clear look at Nathan. She couldn't understand her earlier reaction when she woke up. Something felt wrong somewhere, she thought, as a trail of confusion swirled in her heart, but silence was best for now.

After a few minutes of examining the patient, the doctor assured everyone that everything was alright, as the shots weren't too deep, and the patient could be discharged the next morning.

Mr. Samson smiled at Isabella. "Let the young lady eat," he paused, turning towards Sarah. "Good health is wealth for my Vandash family." As he got up, he left the room.

Nathan quietly dropped her phone on the table and silently followed Mr. Samson as if on order.

Sarah, who had been terrified earlier, carefully opened the box while crossing the food table onto the bed for Isabella.

"I'm sorry about the events from earlier, Aunt," Isabella spoke quietly and innocently, her voice soft enough to break any doubt. But the words shocked Sarah even more. She, just a maid for the Vandash empire, dared not demand or accept an apology from the mistress of the great household. Calmly, she smiled, claiming all was alright.

The night passed with healthy sleep and rest. Aria lay in her bed, recounting the events of the day like counting stars. She kept wondering, "Had it been Isabella at the wedding?"

She turned to the other side of her bed, picking up her phone as she opened her contacts list to dial Isabella's line, but the thoughts kept spiraling in her heart. "Why would Isabella try to strangle me? Something is wrong somewhere." And certainly, something was wrong, but the root cause remained unknown.

At the hospital, Isabella peacefully hoped for the next morning to break. Morning cleared the sky. People all over Hill City knew of the events at the wedding. Television channels, media houses, and social media platforms had reported it, and now this wedding of yesterday was both a popular event and a celebrity-cursed bride story.

When Isabella scrolled through her phone, many laughed at the events of yesterday, many with pitiful words. She couldn't hold back her tears. This scene was witnessed by Sarah, who hurriedly reported it to Mr. Samson.

Hours later, they  arrived at the glorious Vandash Manor, the heavy gates closing slowly behind them.

Bodyguards dressed in black and white stood at attention, and maids were stationed nearby.

At the doorway, the Vandash family awaited: Mr. Samson Vandash, the eldest and Damian’s grandfather; Elena Vandash, Damian’s mother, who had long despised the bride for being an orphan and thus lacking status in elite society; Phyn Vandash, Damian’s younger sister; and Gideon Cross, who was not a true member of the Vandash family, his mother having married out, his father’s surname being Cross.

Their eyes spoke before their lips ever could.

None of them, except Mr. Samson, welcomed the bride. Only the old man wore a genuine smile, one filled with relief and pride.

Nathan and Sarah stepped forward first, guiding Isabella toward the entrance.

Her steps were slow, restrained by pain and the weight of unfamiliar gazes. Every eye followed her movement, measuring, judging, and silently questioning her worth.

Elena’s lips tightened the moment Isabella came into view. She said nothing, yet her displeasure was unmistakable.

Phyn observed with curiosity masked as indifference, while Gideon’s gaze lingered longer than necessary, unreadable and sharp.

Mr. Samson broke the silence by stepping forward. His walking stick tapped lightly against the marble floor as he approached Isabella, his expression warm.

“Welcome home, my grand daughter-in-law, grand pa is glad you are here” he said.

The words echoed through the grand entrance, marking the beginning of a union far from peaceful, bound not by love alone, but by fate, blood, and unspoken grudges.

Just as Isabella stepped into the entrance, a unified voice rang in her ears. “Welcome home, young Mrs. Damian. We are all at your disposal.”

She was startled. She glanced back and offered a small smile.

The entrance hall of the Vandash Manor felt grand, with elite designs and sculptures lining the walls. The silver and gold colors of the walls felt heavenly, enhanced by the scent of fresh honey drifting gently through the nostrils.

Isabella, who had grown up in an orphanage, wore a sincere and happier smile for the first time.

She felt as though she had stepped into a world of pure gold and riches.

Memories of her childhood with her best friend, Aria, came rushing in like a rollercoaster, moments of dreaming about living rich, marrying into wealthy families, and enjoying splendid luxury.

Isabella smiled even more, but her dreamy state of mind was instantly noticed by her mother-in-law, Mrs. Elena Vandash, who snapped at her sharply.

“Wake up from your dreamy life. Peasants can never be free in a world that’s not meant for them.”  With a smirk on her face, she passed Isabella with folded hands and an arrogant look.

Isabella was stunned and awakened..

She, who had always had a sharp tongue, was about to speak when she suddenly heard a voice inside her.

“Slap her hard across the face, and she will know that the weak do not belong in the world of the strong.”

Isabella was even more stunned. Who was that?

Her face displayed disbelief, which was misunderstood by her grandfather-in-law as he moved his face closer to hers.  “Don’t mind the words of a fool; they echo in the ears like sour wine and leave no taste once you forget them.”

Isabella nodded and smiled. It seemed she had gained a backup with her life-saving grace. Indeed, heaven was fair.

Phyn angrily stamped her foot on the floor and retorted,  “Grandpa, she’s from the slum.  Gideon and I confirmed it, so Mum is right anyway.”

Gideon remained silent but cautious, while Mr. Samson and the others paused for a moment.

“Foolish begets foolishness,” he said,  pausing to take a breath, then continued, “Indeed, the apple does not fall far from the tree.”

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