Chapter Text
Today isn’t a new occurrence, as a daughter of the Ambrose family this was expected. For the umpteenth time, two parents are trying to find the ‘perfect match’ for the one they call their darling daughter. This attempt is at a gala being hosted on the estate as a last resort. A trio of handmaidens for the young lady hovered around her like moths to a flame as they made her presentable, hiding bruises and red marks the best they could in a short period of time. She is to be a perfect doll with no cracks in sight, to be flaunted for an increased social standing. The parents, if such people can be called that, walk in with grins across their faces, their eyes holding a not so hidden agenda.
“Oh, my darling, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” The woman begins before laughing “Well second to me of course!”
“My dear, you know what you need to do,” The man adds sternly, ignoring his wife “The guests will be arriving soon.”
The young woman nods as she adjusts a few of her accessories, an anxious habit from her childhood. The pair look at her expectantly before she stands up and takes her father’s arm, to be escorted into the ballroom. The eldest child of the Ambrose family was nothing but a pawn in the eyes of her parents, to be traded for something better. She was aware of this but kept pushing through. This gala is not going to be the same as every other previously attended function where she was made the star. Both parties had secrets that are going to be revealed by the end of the night
The family walked into the ballroom, the music quietened and the lights got a little brighter. Her father was handed a microphone from the butler which he tapped a few times before saying the one sentence that made the young girl’s blood drain from her face.
“To any family that wants to form relations with us, we will give our daughter in exchange for whatever you can offer us. May the best family win”
The words ring in her ears and her hands tremble. She knew her parents were desperate, but she didn’t think they’d sink this low. They had been trying for seven years to marry her off.
At 17, she was rumoured to be betrothed to a Duke’s son but that did not end well. He had been killed suddenly, by her. How was she to know the immature boy trying to coerce her was supposed to be her husband. Her memories of that night were hazy, one moment she was laughing to a comment he had made and the next she was standing over a body with blood on her hands. The incident was enough for families to stay away. However, this dark spot in the family’s history had gradually reduced in size as the Ambrose legacy and net worth increased.
Her parents were swarmed by hopeful families, so she retreated to the one place she knew she’d be safe for a while. By the time she reached the garden, silent tears were streaming down her face. She had tolerated so much. Acted uncaring and unaffected but deep down she was breaking. She sighs and blinks her tears away.
“A beautiful woman should never cry.” An emotionless voice says as they emerge from the shadows.
The young lady is bewildered by the fact someone found her so quickly. She immediately goes to subtly wipe away her tears. The figure gently takes her hand and passes her a handkerchief before mysteriously disappearing into the night once more.
“Thank you!” The young lady calls into the open air before reading the embroidery in the bottom corner and mumbling quietly “IZ?”
Ten or so minutes after, she hears her mother’s voice calling for her but doesn’t move a muscle – she knows her father is dead, she hired the hitman. She hears a crack in her mother’s voice but doesn’t move.
“Your father he... He... Darling please!” The older woman’s voice trembles as she looks around frantically “Not you too my sweet girl-”
The young woman approaches her mother after hiding the embroidered handkerchief on her person. For the first time in seventeen years, the older woman embraces her daughter in a bone crushing hug, tears rolling down her cheeks “Someone killed your father. Oh, my darling when I couldn’t find you, I was so scared he had got you too!”
Father is dead?” The young woman asks in feigned sympathy.
“Yes! Who could do such an awful thing-” Her mother babbled as she cried into her daughter’s shoulder
“Do you really want an answer to that question, mother?” The young lady asks after a long pause “...You’re getting makeup all over my favourite dress.”
“Must you be so apathetic!” The older woman snaps “Be a good daughter and comfort your mother! Your father is dead!”
“You’re asking the person who took all his beatings to be sad that he’s dead? You can’t expect me to be sad” The daughter says with anger in her voice “You know what he did and you let him... Get off me, mother”