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Too Late To Beg: The Erased Bride

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 823    |    Released on: Today at 16:20

ee

evening, the Hilton

agne towers throwing back cold, brilliant light. Manhatta

, and sat alone in the furthest corn

y noise and cold air came with it. Hank had put me here deliberately: it let the family display its "generosi

ld sitting all t

head. Breann drifted over to the tab

e South Sea pearl necklace Hank had personally bid on

ran underneath them. "If I hadn't come back to this family, my sister wouldn't have sunk to sitting in a corner m

I just ran my fingers slowly a

Breann. Nobody needs to

face full of contempt. He looked down at me the way you look at a s

ocket: a battered silver harmonica

bed the secondhand markets of Manhattan to buy it for his birthday. For the next decade he carried it everyw

n box with distaste, and the corner of

bribing me with cheap jun

, and turned h

ac

y foot. The body split wit

shoe and, in front of several waiters a

l echoed absurdly along the

t every clumsy piece of childhood affection I had ever poured into it - into scrap. "As for the garbage you give me, it makes me sick

en metal spattere

nerve soaked in cold water. Not the sharp pain

in ten minutes. What

t even glance at the crushed harmonica on the floor. He only f

with pressure. "When the emcee calls your name, you walk up to the main

down at

ed with sel

for eighteen years of charity... I hereby voluntarily renounce my engagem

s eyes freezing cold. "Put away that pathetic self-respect of yours. If anything goes wrong tonight, I will mak

ne, one standing over eighteen years of my belongings ground into the

the humiliating script

in

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Too Late To Beg: The Erased Bride
Too Late To Beg: The Erased Bride
“When the wealthy Whitfield family finally found their biological daughter, my eighteen years as their adopted child instantly meant nothing. My adoptive parents and my fiancé handed me an invoice for $12.4 million in back child-rearing costs, demanding I repay it by selling my memories to the Memory Bank. "You need to learn some humility and sacrifice something real if you want to earn your place back in this family." At the welcome gala, they stripped me of my inheritance, banished me to a table by the kitchen doors, and my fiancé publicly called off our engagement. No one remembered that it was also my birthday. They assumed I would sell a few trivial childhood memories, feel the sting of their discipline, and come crawling back to beg for their mercy. They genuinely believed my love for them was an infinite resource to be squeezed, that every hug, every lullaby, every promise could be given a cold, precise price tag. So I gave them exactly what they asked for. To clear the debt in full, I had every core emotional memory of them permanently extracted. The family and the man I once loved became strangers to me, completely and forever.”