Arranged Marriage

Chapter 23

I don't remember much of those two weeks.

I remembered the crying and the numbness.

Zoey visited me that same day. She listened to my wails and cried along with me. I think she stayed that night, I wasn't sure. I had lost track of time.

The funeral was a burr. Zoey got me showered, dressed, did my hair and makeup. Patrick got me through the rest. He held my hand and didn't let go during the service. He supported me at the burial. And stood by me during the wake, accepting people's condolences when I couldn't. I had become a numb, lifeless vessel for a soul that was crying out for her father.

After that, the days rolled into one. I couldn't tell if I was asleep or my eyes just refused to open and accept a life where my Pappa wasn't alive. Patrick sat with me a few times. I didn't see him but when he was in the room, everything felt different. Not better, just different.

Oscar was there at one point too, quietly arguing with Patrick in an attempt not to wake me.

"She's mourning," Patrick hissed under his breath.

"She has an empire to run," Oscar growled back, "get her out of that bed."

"No."

"No?" Oscar questioned, "Who do you think you're talking to? Show some respect, Boy."

There was silence. I wanted to support Patrick. I wanted to hit Oscar for speaking to him like that. But my prison wouldn't allow me to.

"Get, her, out, of, bed," Oscar growled, "you cannot be seen with a weak wife."

"The same wife you married me too," Patrick hissed, "what, Father? Now that you've seen how she handles hard times you realize she's not what you paid for?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Eliza made the connection that with our marriage, our wealth doubles," Patrick argued.

"She is a smart girl, too smart. She makes connections that aren't necessarily there," Oscar tried to cover.

"She, yes. Me, no. Unlike me, she doesn't know how your mind works, and yet she made these connections all by herself. Unlike me, she doesn't know that this isn't the first time you've done this sort of thing."

"How dare you excuse me of this?" Oscar growled, "Remember who your talking to? I have given you everything."

I heard Patrick scoff.

"Even a beautiful woman to sleep in your bed every night."

"You bastard," Patrick growled, "how dare you? There is nothing in this world that I haven't worked for or had parts of my soul removed to get. Even Eliza, I had to pay some sort of price. All to feed your greed."

"And I can see just how much you suffer by being with her," he hissed, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "what a painful life you must lead?"

Silence. Patrick didn't deny that he didn't like spending time with me nor did he say that he was in misery. But each moment that he remained silent the more authority Oscar regained over him.

"You get her out of bed and you get her under control," Oscar demanded.

"How many times must I remind you? She is my wife and I will do what I want with her," Patrick growled, "and I'll decide when she's ready to get out of bed."

The argument ended after that.

I don't know if it had been hours all days, but the next visitors I had were Antonio and Alberto.