Back in her room, Emma slammed the door and ran to her bed. She fell face-first onto the mattress and the flood gates opened, wide. She sobbed with her face buried into the pillow, lest her younger sister and little niece in the next room would hear her crying and she didn't want that. She'd slipped past their doors earlier, too ashamed to face them. Misty adored her, Jovana idolized her. Emma had always tried to set an example, to make them believe dreams could come true. But alas! Her future had been sold to the highest bidder, her dream crushed by a simple handshake at a business dinner.
She had no money and no one else to turn to. Her father had spent her future away and she was to be married off to save the company.
That was not the plan.
She had pictured her life in colours: setting up her own art studio after graduating from Crestfield, winning awards, her paintings in national galleries, her designs worn by top fashion icons and her name on billboards. But now it was all dust.
Then came the thing she feared most.
Self-doubt.
Maybe that's why they call it 'a dream'. Maybe she was just childish and silly like Bridget always said. The thought of Bridget being right twisted a sharp knot in her belly.
By now her tears had dried and she was staring blankly at the wall.
She picked up her phone again. The Crestfield email glowed back at her:
'Your portfolio stood out remarkably and earned unanimous praise from our admissions panel...'
Her eyes ran through the words.
'You are one of only twenty-two chosen...'
Emma didn't have the strength to read that sentence to the end.
'To confirm your interest once again, kindly make a payment...'
She scrolled past this part too, till the end of the message:
'We cannot wait to witness and help shape the brilliance of your artistic journey here at Crestfield. The future is yours to paint.'
'No, the future has been sold,' she thought.
She closed her eyes and buried her face in her pillow again.
Her phone buzzed. A message.
She turned and clicked it open. It was her school mate, Vanessa:
'Congraaaaaaaatulations, you pretty one. The mighty Crestfield? I still can't believe it. I know how much this means to you. Enjoy your day.'
'Enjoy your day' The words were kind but to Emma it felt like salt rubbed into her wound. And the tears came back uninvited.
Another buzz.
It was Hellena's boyfriend Leo, also an art student:
'So it's true. The prodigy made it to Crestfield, huh? A top-notch school for a top notch talent. You know you deserve it. Don't forget to sign my brush before you go. (A smiley face emoji)'
Emma turned the phone face-down and turned her head away from it.
It buzzed again.
She turned sharp in anger, grabbed her phone and turned off vibration mode.
Just as she thought of sleeping her misery off, her phone chimed.
'Ping!'
She looked. Another message.
She thought she had switched her phone to silent mode but instead, she'd mistakenly turned it from vibration mode to loud mode.
The contact name read: Monsieur Lucien Duvall.
It was her art teacher.
Her fingers hovered over the box icon for a while. However much she tried, she couldn't resist reading the message, for he was her mentor and they were so close. She tapped it open:
'Just heard the news. You've made me so proud, dear. You are walking the path your grandfather dreamed for you. Just remember always keep your head up.'
Tears stung Emma's eyes and the thought of her grandfather flashed in her mind. She imagined him sitting in his old studio, a soft smile under his moustache every time Emma stepped in.
Ping! Another message interrupted her thought.
Before she could open it, another. Ping!
Then...
Ping!
Ping!
Ping!
One by one, the messages poured in, each more congratulatory, more joyful, more unbearable.
Every 'ping' felt like a knife stab in her heart. She unlocked her phone to turn it off completely but was shocked to see a message from the girl who hated her the most in school.
Emma couldn't believe it.
Even her harsh rival, Jealous Betty, had texted her. And her message wasn't mean either:
'We may not see eye to eye. But you know I give respect where it's due. Crestfield is a whole other level. Respect!'
From there on, temptation got the better of her. She scrolled through messages as more and more flooded in.
The sweet messages made Emma so sad. And as more messages poured in, so did her tears.
When she saw her picture on the school's website with an article bragging about her being the only one from her city to make it to Crestfield, Emma couldn't take it anymore.
She threw her phone with rage across the room. It landed on the sofa and bounced to the floor.
She coiled on her bed, sobbing lightly.
After a short while, her phone rang but she didn't bother.
Beep.
It went straight to voicemail.
An excited female voice blared out:
''EMMAAAA!!!! I just heard your name read in the news. I told you you'd make it. Crestfield's got no idea what they've unleashed. Queen of colours incoming! You better not forget us when you become famous. And please call me ASAP, we need to celebrate.''
Beep.
Emma had no energy left now. She'd stopped crying and lay staring at the ceiling as silence pressed down on her.
A sudden commotion in the corridor made her sit up. She wiped her eyes dry as the door swung open.
"Ta-da!" Misty twirled round dramatically in a glamorous blue dress, her hair beautifully done into a bun. "We are done preparing. Guess what, Hellena said she's paying for everything tonight."
Emma forced a smile. "You look... amazing."
"I know, right?" Misty laughed. "Hellena picked this for me."
Hellena appeared behind her and the two walked in.
"You haven't even bathed yet?" Misty frowned.
Hellena had not spoken but observed Emma with a questioning look on her face. Emma knew her friend had already figured out something was wrong.
Emma opened her mouth to say something but the words stopped in her throat and her eyes shot to the door. Everyone followed her gaze.
"Jordan, girls' room!" Misty yelled.
"Chill, I'm just here to congratulate Emma and I'll be off to practice." He walked in spinning a football in his hands. His broad shoulders and tight muscles fit nicely in the sports jersey he wore.
"We haven't forgotten your cruel prank," Misty said and pinched his arm.
"Jeez! You have zero sense of humor." Jordan walked past Misty and offered a fist bump to Emma who smiled weakly and bumped her fist onto his.
He sat on the arm of the sofa and eyed Emma like a scientist inspecting something under a microscope.
"What?" Emma said.
"I'm trying to figure out what kind of luck you have."
"It's called talent," Hellena said.
"No, for Crestfield, maybe. But to land a date with the Silver Wolf himself..." Jordan shook his head.
"What's he talking about," Hellena glanced at Emma.
"Oh, you haven't heard?" Jordan's face brightened. "She's going on a date with a movie star."
"What?" All three girls said at once.
"Yeah, Dad just told me Rowland Montero asked her out on a date."
Emma froze. What?
Rowland Montero?
They had only told her a powerful man. She didn't expect...that powerful.
"You should see your faces. Guess you girls don't share everything after all," Jordan said.
He got up and headed for the door.
"I'm late for practice."
As he walked past Misty, he faked a ball throw to her face.
"Jordan!" Misty flinched.
"Later, loser." He laughed and was out the door.
"Wow!" Misty walked over and sat by Emma. "Things are really turning up for you sis."
Emma didn't know what to say as the news had her in shock herself.
"Forget the celebration for now," she said flatly as she undressed and grabbed a towel.
"What's wrong?" Hellena asked.
"Yeah, what's wrong. If we aren't going out, then I look like an idiot in this dress." Misty said.
Under the hiss of the of the shower, Emma's thoughts tangled with grief, confusion and disbelief. On the one hand, her heart felt heavy with the weight of a crushed dream. On the other hand, she was slightly relieved, pleasantly surprised even. She had pictured the powerful man as some old ugly fat fuck. But instead, it was the handsome, mysterious Silver Wolf. A man so wealthy yet so young he was still in his late twenties. He wasn't just one of the billionaires in the country. He was the top of the cream. Genius business man and the most sought after bachelor in the city.
Maybe it won't be so bad. A brilliant man like him, maybe he will empathize with her, understand her vision and even sponsor her to Crestfield himself. Emma felt a surge of hope ripple through her mind.
She was getting married to the man, the myth, the legend, celebrated business man and film star.
Rowland Montero.