Heart Of A Destitute

CHAPTER ONE

JULIAN

I stood in the doorway of my father's room, my heart pounding in my chest. The grandeur of the mansion, with its ornate chandeliers and antique furnishings, seemed to mock the frailty of the man lying in the bed.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy drapes partially drawn, casting shadows across his gaunt face. He looked so small, so vulnerable, a stark contrast to the powerful figure he had always been in my life.

For years, I had harbored a deep resentment towards him, convinced that his infidelity had led to my mother's death.

Her accident, a tragedy that had shattered our family, had always seemed too coincidental, too convenient for someone looking to start anew. That suspicion had festered, turning my love for him into a bitter grudge.

Now, seeing him like this, the anger was hard to hold onto. He was just a man, a dying man, and I was his only daughter.

"Julian," he whispered, his voice a mere shadow of its former strength. "Come closer, my dear."

I took a tentative step forward, then another, until I was standing by his bedside. His hand, once strong and commanding, now trembled as he reached out to me.

"Julian, I don't have much time," he began, his eyes pleading with me. "I need you to forgive me. I know I've made mistakes, terrible mistakes, but please, for the sake of our family, I need you to fulfill my last wish."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. "Dad, how can I? You... you ruined everything. You tore our family apart. How can I forgive you?"

He squeezed my hand weakly, his eyes filling with tears. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I never meant for things to turn out this way.

But please, Julian, I need you to do this. You must get married to secure your position as the heir. It's the only way to protect the legacy your mother and I built."

His words cut through me like a knife. The thought of marrying for convenience, of tying myself to someone just to fulfill a dying wish, was almost unbearable.

But the look in his eyes, the desperation, made it clear that this was his last hope.

"Please, Julian," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Forgive me."

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They flowed freely down my cheeks as I looked at the man who had given me life, who had shaped my world, for better or worse.

"I... I don't know if I can forgive you," I sobbed, my heart aching with the weight of his request. "But I'll do it. I'll do what you ask."

His face crumpled with relief, and he nodded, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Julian. Thank you."

Unable to bear the sight of his frailty any longer, I turned and fled the room, my emotions a turbulent storm.

I stumbled down the grand staircase, the opulence of the mansion a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. The mansion, with its memories of happier times, now felt like a prison.

A few days later, I returned home from the hospital, exhausted and emotionally drained.

As I stepped through the front door, I was met with an unexpected sight. The mansion was bustling with activity. Staff were hurrying about, setting up tables and decorations in the grand ballroom.

There were flowers everywhere, their sweet scent mingling with the rich aroma of food being prepared in the kitchen.

"What is going on here?" I demanded, grabbing one of the passing staff members.

"It's an event, Miss Julian," he replied nervously. "Your father has arranged it."

My heart sank. What was he thinking? I rushed up to his room, my mind racing. I found him sitting up in bed, looking weaker than ever but with a determined glint in his eye.

"Dad, what is all this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why is there an event being organized in our house?"

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. "Julian, I need you to dress for the event. It's to be held tomorrow. It's important."

"Important? How can you think of hosting an event in your condition? What is this really about?" I demanded, my frustration boiling over.

He sighed, his face etched with exhaustion. "It's about you, Julian. It's about finding you a suitable husband.

I need you to be married before I'm gone. It's the only way to secure your future and the future of our family's legacy."

Tears filled my eyes again. "Dad, this is insane. I can't just marry someone like this. It's not fair."

"I know it's not fair," he said softly, his voice cracking. "But it's my last wish. Please, Julian. Do this for me."

Seeing the tears in his eyes broke something inside me. I wanted to refuse, to walk away and never look back, but I couldn't. He was my father, and despite everything, I loved him.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'll do it. I'll be there."

The next day, the mansion was a hive of activity. Guests began to arrive, each more distinguished than the last.

The grand ballroom was filled with the sound of laughter and conversation, the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the elegantly dressed crowd.

I had retreated to my room, trying to gather my thoughts and prepare myself for what lay ahead.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. I was wearing a beautiful dress, one my mother had worn to a similar event many years ago.

It was a painful reminder of the past, of the family we once were. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

Just as I was about to head downstairs, there was a knock on my door. It was Mrs. Jane, my stepmother.

"Julian, are you ready?" she asked, her eyes kind but filled with worry.

"I'm ready," I replied, forcing a smile. "I'll be down in a minute."

She nodded and left, and I took one last look at myself in the mirror. This was it. I had to do this, for my father.

But as I made my way down the grand staircase, something inside me snapped.

I couldn't go through with it. The weight of my father's expectations, the pain of my mother's death, and the anger I still felt towards him all came crashing down on me.

Without thinking, I turned and ran. I fled through the back entrance of the mansion, not stopping until I was far away, hidden in the garden where my mother and I used to spend our afternoons.

The memories of her laughter, her love, were too much to bear.