The men in black, sent by my father, swarmed the entrance like a disturbed colony of ants, scattering to ensure I hadn't slipped past their watch. Too bad, Rafael was no match for them.
Disguising me as his doctor, pushing him in a wheelchair, and boarding an ambulance in the VVIP row. The only exit door they hadn't checked.
At first, I didn't believe this could work, those men surely cooperated with hospital security.
But Kingston was a top-five shareholder in Houston Hospital—his word carried the same weight as Roman's here.
This was my first time running away from my parents.
Though they had always played favorites and paid far more attention to Vivian, I had never rebelled.
I understood. Accepting. How could I not?
She is my twin sister. We shared the same womb, gene, face, bo—
Ah, no. Not the body.
To be truthful, Vivian was slimmer than I.
My hormonal condition slowed my metabolism, giving me a bigger posture, especially in the thigh and hip region—and thankfully, in my breasts.
But in that sophisticated society, where appearance is everything, if I couldn't wear size 4-6, I was considered overweight.
My mother always made sure I never crossed size 10. For what? Because I was being groomed to become a competent future Chief Prosecutor, who had to be clever, modest, and elegant.
And obviously, to marry a Housley.
I averted my gaze to the outside ambulance window and watched Houston Hospital shrink from view.
Could I truly be free from the bond of that marriage agreement now? Just as I was escaping them at this very moment?
My grandfather and Roman's had an agreement to unite the two families through marriage.
Too bad they had no daughters, and finally, that "lucky" fate fell upon my generation.
"Regret? You just lost your first love," Rafael asked, sitting across from me.
I shot him a searing look. "Don't mock me."
He chuckled, low and dry. "You've been following him since you were thirteen, like he was your only orbit. I wonder when life will knock some sense into that devoted brain of yours."
I frowned. Hated how much he knew.
Rafael was a living witness to the girl I used to be—the one who smiled like a madwoman, drowning in happiness the day my mother told me about the arranged marriage.
But happiness had a deadline. Cinderella needed to go home before midnight.
When I attended my middle school graduation prom night, my twin little sister announced her relationship with Roman Housley in the middle of the dance floor. Then, a massive cheer erupted. They looked blissful, and I felt displaced.
The agreement said that the eldest son and daughter were the ones who should marry.
But for my father, as long as the marriage happened, he didn't care who stood at the altar.
First broken heart? Sure.
But did I cry, wail, and tear up like last night when Roman shut the door? Of course not.
I loved my sister. She was my other half. So, as long as she was happy, I was fine—not really fine—but I could go on.
It wasn't betrayal.
They loved each other.
Roman and I had never said love, even though we knew about the arrangement.
I shot a glare at Rafael.
"You also witnessed life knocking some sense into me since that middle school prom, didn't you? But what choice did I have?" I shot back.
He smirked. "Choice, huh? Well, the news of your engagement stunned me. The Island-Housley engagement was never made public, but when I saw you wearing the ring and still running around as his shadow again, it was the funniest circus show I'd ever seen."
Rafael's mocking grin didn't sting as much as it should have. He was right.
My friends believed Cinderella lived happily ever after with the prince. But why did the author never show a glimpse of their complete family—no sons, no daughters, no proof of growing old together?
Wasn't that the reflection of a happy life?
If the author had left it to my imagination, I would think Cinderella might have died immediately upon moving into the castle.
Why?
Because a castle was like a cage full of poisons.
And my poison started in my first year of college. Vivian disappeared.
She left a note severing her relationship with Roman, a day before the engagement private party, and would hand the burden of the engagement to me.
The next thing was a cliché substitute fiancé arranged marriage.
The rocking of the ambulance over a speed bump snapped me back to reality.
I chuckled bitterly, remembering how happy I was to become that substitute, thinking of myself as the Cinderella who found her prince back. Fate.
Sadly enough, I never met the fairy godmother.
My chest tightened, remembering I worked so hard to be trained under Caroline to become the next Lady of the Housley.
But what did I get now?
Shame. Misery.
And they still wanted me to play the role of a sex doll?
I rubbed my temple, racking my brain for a way to vent my fury—to pay back their cruelty.
I peeled off my latex gloves, just as Rafael stripped off his patient gown.
"Oh, for God's sake, Rafael! What are you doing?" I yelled, throwing my face away.
"Getting changed, obviously." He said casually.
"Then why change here?"
"Why? Is this fluttering you?" he teased.
"Do you think I'm a statue?" I wished I were.
"You're role-playing as my doctor right now. A doctor should be fine even watching their patient naked."
"Are you even a patient?" Something snapped in my mind. "Seriously, what are you even doing in the VVIP ward? Are you actually sick?"
"Just curious now? How could you even dream of becoming a prosecutor with such incuriosity?" he mocked.
Still keeping my eyes shut, I scoffed. What did I even expect? I really can't talk to him.
"When I was on a battlefield, there was no gender. Male and female soldiers all changed clothes in the same room."
"Rafael! We are in Liechester! The safest country in the world. It is not your chaotic war zone!"
"Huh? Aren't we at war? That makes us colleagues, partners, didn't it?"
What the hell was he even saying?
Wait… so he didn't see me as a woman? Just a soldier? Why did that feel both reassuring and insulting?
I closed my eyes tightly and sighed heavily.
"No. We are not. We are just using each other for a day. In a battlefield, enemies could use each other for war leverage, right? Are you done?" I kept my eyes shut.
Rafael didn't answer, and I didn't dare open my eyes.
The remnants of my family's conservative doctrine still clung to me. But Rafael had zero sympathy toward other people's beliefs.
"Rafael? Are you done?"
I felt the ambulance stop, and a stinging snap from a finger flick landed on my forehead.
"Arrghh… Why did you hit me?" I groaned, reflexively opening my eyes and rubbing my forehead.
"What you explain is called an alliance. But, are we enemies? Why?"
My eyes bulged. I shot him a look of disbelief. Was he serious asking me that?
The ambulance door swung open, the sudden light assaulting my eyes.
A magnificent mansion, painted in a combination of black and white, with steel iron pillars, was plastered before me. Daring me to step onto it and own the poison.
"Let's get out. We've arrived," he commanded, stepping down from the ambulance.
"This..." I stammered.
"Why?" He didn't wait for the question. "This is the safest place for you right now."