The Weight of Unspoken Pacts

 In the hushed stillness of her bedroom, Alison awoke with a jolt, gasping for breath. The room, cloaked in shadows, offered no solace as the remnants of a haunting nightmare clung to her like an oppressive shroud. The vivid echoes of that fateful night at the club played out in her mind with relentless clarity.

Panic surged through her veins as the memories of Anthonio's actions enveloped her, leaving her trembling in the aftermath of a harrowing dream.

 The weight of his presence lingered, the cold touch of his masked face a phantom sensation etched into her subconscious.

As Alison struggled to reconcile the nightmare with reality, beads of sweat traced a path down her forehead. Her rapid breaths echoed in the silence, a stark contrast to the serene facade of her surroundings. 

The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting an ethereal glow on the room, but the tranquility was shattered by the residual fear that clung to her.

She fumbled for the lamp, desperate to dispel the darkness that threatened to consume her. The warm light flooded the room, revealing familiar surroundings, yet the spectral grip of the nightmare persisted. 

In the solitude of her bedroom, Alison grappled with the raw emotions dredged up by the dream, a cruel replay of the traumatic events at the Gala.

It's been two weeks since she relocate to North Hill with her family, she met her friends the first day but she hasn't set her eyes on Anthonio, she doesn't even hear news about him nor Isreal, including Dean and Maria.

Aleast she should be happy they're not in north Hill

But she kept having nightmares of The Gala night 

When is this going to stop…". She sighed and get off the bed, wearing her flip flops, she walk to the En-suite bathroom for prepare for work.

 *****

In the sleek quarters of Ali Tech Dynamics, the billionaire gadget company, a hive of innovation buzzes with creativity . The open-concept designs foster collaboration among brilliant minds working on the next breakthrough project. The R&D labs shrouded in secrecy, echo with the hum of cutting-edge experiments and prototypes.

 At the helm of the technological empire is the visionary CEO Dr. Alison Richard Harrington. Her sharp intellect and charismatic leadership have propelled Ali Tech Dynamics to unparalleled success. She is both a respected figure in the industry and an enigma

 Known for her reclusive nature Alison Harrington's rare public appearance added an air of Mystery, leaving the world eager to uncover the minds behind the mind-blowing gadges that shape the future.

As the cafes shuttered, and the city lulled into a soft hum, illuminated only by distant twinkling lights, Alison found herself engrossed in her desk, nursing a cup of coffee while sorting through old documents and files.

 The tranquility of the evening was disrupted when the door to her office cracked open, accompanied by a giggle. Alison raised her head to discover Mitchell, her best friend, peering inside the office with a sheepish smile. Dramatically rolling her eyes, Alison refocused on her documents on her desk

"Ali!!!!" Alison raised her head again, this time with a frown, as she heard two voices. Mitchell swung the door fully open, followed by Tara

"Why're you guys here?" Alison asked with an eye roll.

Alison's gaze lingered from their makeups to the matching outfits they wore, shaking her head afterwards

"We're here for you," Tara grinned, taking a seat in the guest chair. Mitchell joined her in the second guest chair next to Tara.

"You guys look horrible in those matching outfits, please," Alison said with a tone of disgust.

"We know you have a bad taste when it comes to fashion," Mitchell retorted.

"Yeah, you're right," Tara nodded in agreement.

"Alright, fashionistas," Alison rolled her eyes sarcastically with a huff. "Why are you both here? This is my working hour; I don't need any disturbance," she frowned, anticipating their penchant for crazy advice.

"It's October 16 !!!" Mitchell and Tara screamed happily.

"And so? What is wrong with you two?" Alison yelled, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"It's Isreal Styles' day!!!" 

"Israel Styles is back!!!" Mitchell and Tara propelled into exhilaration, voicing their excitement wholeheartedly, followed by giggles.

"Are you guys crazy? Did you realize you're in an office? I almost went deaf,"

Alison scolded, the furrow of her brow and her widened eyes convey both disbelief and anger

Israel Styles, the epitome of popularity, youth, and wealth, reigns as the most celebrated and most wealthy pop up musician, not just within the country's borders but extending his influence to many others countries worldwide. The entire nation venerates him like a deity, captivated by his charisma and admired by multitudes.

Rumors circulated that people couldn't touch him, except for his family, adding an air of mystery. As the heir to Everflow PetroCorp, an oil company owned by his father, Demien Montgon, and with no siblings, Israel Styles carried the weight of immense responsibility. 

His dreamy presence had the power to make ladies swoon, creating an aura of charm that surrounded him. he's irresistible and epitomized every lady's ideal man.

Owning a music record label named "SYLES NATION" with over twenty singers, Israel Styles had carved his name as one of the most popular and prominent figures in the country's music industry. Despite his youth, he had already accumulated over twenty awards worldwide, earning him the title of the country's pride. His contributions to the country's music scene were so significant that he had a designated special day on October 16.

Every 16th October turned into a public holiday, solely dedicated to celebrating his name and achievements. The anticipation surrounding this day echoed across the nation, reflecting the magnitude of Israel Styles' impact

Beyond the glitz and glamour associated with his musical success, Israel Styles remains deeply connected to his roots. His involvement in philanthropic endeavors and charitable activities reflects a commitment to giving back to the community that has showered him with unwavering support. From supporting education initiatives to contributing to healthcare projects, he leverages his influence to effect positive change.

As the nation eagerly awaits the next chapter in the illustrious career of Israel Styles, the enigmatic pop sensation continues to redefine the boundaries of fame and success. 

"Well, we're here to get you prepared for Israel Styles' tonight's concert," Mitchell voiced out with excitement.

"You wish," Alison scoffed, attempting to reach for her cup of coffee, only to realize it was empty. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Mitch!" Alison called in anger, glaring at Mitchell.

"Ali, who made that coffee, it's really relieving," Mitchell said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah," Tara agreed, and it became clear to Alison that her friends had shared the coffee without her noticing, adding a touch of camaraderie to their preparations.

"Ali, are you going to the concert? I've got us tickets We're already dressed, as you can see, though we've just come back from a Fashion Editorial Shoot in the main city,"

 Mitchell inquired waving three tickets she got for the three of them for the upcoming concert in the air, her fashion-forward presence evident. 

Mitchell Jones is a Fashion icon and trendsetter in the world of high fashion, boasted an empire that included luxury brands, influencing the city's cultural scene.

Tara Monroe, a Luxury Brand Heiress, the inheritor of a prestigious luxury fashion brand, maintained her family legacy while consistently innovating and captivating the city's elite.

"I can't believe Israel Styles sold off two million tickets in just twelve hours," Tara gushed.

"Because he just returned, and everyone wants to see him after an entire year. I'm sure the entire city is going to be there," Mitchell added with enthusiasm.

"I can't imagine the crowd... can't wait to see my hot pop star," Tara gushed, expressing her excitement for the upcoming concert. However, Alison, focused on her work, rolled her eyes in response.

"It's none of my business," Alison hissed as she arranged her belongings before getting up.

"I'm going home... just a few minutes to my closing time," Alison stated bluntly, glancing at her wristwatch.

"I'm sure you do not want to go home," Mitchell giggled, prompting a frown of confusion from Alison. Mitchell and Tara exchanged knowing looks and smiled.

"Why is that so?" Alison frowned, seeking an explanation.

"Nothing," Mitchell grinned. A furrow marred Alison's expression as she shook her head at her eccentric friends before leaving the office, disregarding the two girls inside her office.

"Are you leaving us behind?" Mitchell ran after her.

"I didn't call you here, and please do well to close my office door," Alison said bluntly while walking away.

"So rude," Tara huffed in disbelief before running after Alison, leaving the office buzzing with the energy of impending events.

 *****

As the sun gracefully dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the cityscape, Alison skillfully navigated her sleek Rolls-Royce Sweptail car through the bustling streets. This bespoke luxury car, tailored to the specific desires of its owner, showcased exclusivity and opulence. 

Accompanied by her guards in two Mercedes-Benz S-Guards, the purr of the car engines echoed against towering skyscrapers as they approached her mansion.

Mitchell and Tara followed closely, driving in Mitchell's expensive Porsche 918 Spyder car. 

Passing through the iron gate, the mansion emerged—a palatial residence with ivy-covered walls and ornate architecture. Surrounded by impeccably landscaped gardens, the estate exuded an air of opulence. Soft lights illuminated the winding driveway, guiding the cars to the entrance, while the crisp evening air carried the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass.

Upon arrival, the staff, clad in elegant uniforms, awaited by the entrance. A puzzled furrow appeared on Alison's forehead as her brows drew together in a tight knit. She stared at her workers, who wore worried looks, creating an unspoken tension in the air. 

The contrast between the grandeur of the mansion and the uneasy expressions of her staffs added a layer of complexity to the atmosphere, leaving Alison to wonder about the reasons behind their evident concern.

Gracefully stepping out of her car, Alison exuded elegance. Her once bright eyes, filled with certainty, now betrayed subtle flickers of uncertainty as she sought answers in the eyes of her workers.

"What's going on here? Why are you all outside?" Alison queried in an authoritative yet friendly tone, assertive and confident, anticipating a prompt and direct response.

"Ma, it's nothing. Just that Big Daddy and Big Mommy came and asked everyone to wait outside until you're back," Anna, the house headmaid, replied in a clear and concise tone, avoiding unnecessary complexity and ensuring clarity.

Alison's heart thumped at the mention of her father. "Oh, Jeez!" she sighed. In that moment, fatigue etched lines on her face, and her muttering carried the weight of unspoken frustrations. It was a weary symphony, a silent plea for solace in the face of challenges that seemed insurmountable.

"Alright, you can go inside now, and please do well to avoid their trouble," she responded in a tired and considerate tone, acknowledging the challenges that lay ahead and offering a moment of respite for her dedicated workers.

With caution, she approached the door and gently pushed it open, revealing her father seated in the living room on the two-seater blue fluffy couch that beckoned with its irresistible comfort. 

His legs were propped up on the table, folded with meticulous care. Leaning back on the couch headrest, he was engrossed in a newspaper, his glasses perched on his nose.

Inwardly, Alison prayed, a testament to the fear that his presence instilled in her. Despite the wealth that surrounded her, an unspoken understanding lingered – the apprehension of falling short of Mr. Harrington's expectations. 

She navigated her life with caution, always mindful of the stern gaze and unyielding presence of her father, whose approval seemed both elusive and imperative.

Mr. Harrington, the patriarch, bore the demeanor of a man accustomed to command. His gray hair, meticulously combed, hinted at a lifetime of discipline and order. Sharp, steely eyes surveyed the surroundings with unwavering scrutiny, leaving no details untouched. 

Draped in tailored suits that bespoke affluence, his every gesture exuded an air of authority that further intensified the atmosphere of respect and fear in the room.

"You're back," Mr. Harrington spoke without sparing Alison a single glance. His voice, though measured, carried a weight that could silence even the most bustling room.

"Yes, good evening, Father," Alison greeted in a friendly yet professional tone, skillfully balancing professionalism with warmth to create a positive and approachable atmosphere. Fidgeting with her nails, she anxiously awaited his next words.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned to see Mitchell and Tara – had she forgotten she came with her two close psycho friends?

"Ali, we'll be upstairs waiting in your room," Mitchell said in a considerate tone, patting Alison's shoulder. She nodded, and her two friends ascended the stairs to her room.

Alison pondered whether her friends had met her father today, realizing they hadn't greeted him. Was that the reason Mitchell had remarked at the office about not wanting to go home? They must have visited her place before heading to the office, a realization that added a layer of intrigue to the unfolding events.

As though awaiting the conclusion of her contemplation, Mr. Harrington broke the silence.

"Alison, I'm sure you know why I'm here," his cold inquiry sliced through the air like a chilling breeze, devoid of any warmth or discernible emotions. Alison arched her brow in confusion, utterly unaware of the nature of his inquiry.

"No... no, Father," Alison responded in a respectful tone.

"Okay, then, sit," Mr. Harrington commanded in an authoritative tone, his voice a monotone cascade of words, carrying an icy precision that left no room for interpretation. Each syllable seemed measured and calculated, devoid of inflection or nuance.

 Alison cautiously approached the three-seater couch beside Mr. Harrington, the weight of his presence and the impending conversation settling around them like an unspoken tension.

Oh, Ali dear," Mrs. Harrington, the wealthy wife of the enigmatic Mr. Harrington, gracefully entered the living room like a vision of opulence. Her attire seamlessly fused sophistication and affluence, draping her with an air of untouchable elegance.

"Hey, Mom... Good evening," Alison's face brightened as if just escaping a trap. Her father's intimidating presence had already caused her to break into a nervous sweat.

"Well, if you must know, Mr. Montgon's son is back, and you know what that means," Mr. Harrington spoke, ignoring the cheerful moment between mother and daughter.

Alison furrowed her brow in confusion, wondering about Mr. Montgon and the significance of his son's return. Thoughts raced through her mind as she pondered the connection between the Montgons and her family.

"What is he talking about? Who's Mr. Montgon?" she thought inwardly. Desiring clarification, she refrained from asking directly, allowing the realization to gradually unfold.

In a moment of clarity, the puzzle pieces clicked into place, and Alison comprehended the weight behind her father's words. The impending marriage, arranged since her childhood, suddenly became more tangible, and the significance of Mr. Montgon's son's return loomed over her like a storm cloud.

What!!!!! The pact ? The deal !" she screamed inwardly, Her eyes widened in disbelief 

How could she forget that.

Coming of age in North Hill City as the daughter of the patriarch of North-Hill and an Oil Tycoon, Richard Harrington, offered Alison a life adorned with privilege. As the influential CEO of a major oil conglomerate, Harrington wielded control over vast reserves and pipelines, significantly shaping the city's economic landscape.

Alison's upbringing was marked by abundance; she never found herself lacking any material comforts. Hunger was an unfamiliar concept, and she always enjoyed the luxury of a comfortable bed. However, amidst the opulence, what eluded Alison was not monetary but emotional wealth. Her deepest yearning transcended material possessions – she craved love and longed for freedom from the constraints of her life meticulously controlled by her father.

While the city thrived under her father's economic prowess, Alison grappled with the intangible void within her heart.

 The contrast between the external prosperity and internal yearning painted a complex portrait of a young woman navigating the intricacies of privilege and the poignant absence of personal autonomy.. 

At the tender age of sixteen, Alison received the life-altering news of her arranged marriage to the son of Mr. Montgon she had never laid eyes on. 

Her father and Mr Demien Montgon An Oil Baron. Known for his ruthless business tactics, calculated demeanor, and cold disposition, orchestrated this union to strengthen the families's bond in their oil business collaborations, linking her destiny with the son of one of the most notorious oil Barons, Mr. Montgon's influence in the oil industry cast a long shadow.

This impending marriage thrust Alison into a future dictated by the whims of her father and the demands of a man she knew only by family reputation. 

The prospect of tying her fate to someone she had never met filled her with a mixture of apprehension and resignation, as she grappled with the unfolding reality of a life planned without her consent. 

The marriage seemed to be a culmination of her father's ambitions and the unrelenting expectations of high society, leaving Alison to navigate uncharted waters with trepidation and uncertainty.

Father," Alison began tentatively.

"I'm sure you remember the deal," Mr. Harrington interjected.

"I can't possibly commit to marrying someone I barely know," Alison frowned, attempting to defend herself.

"Barely know...?" Mr. Harrington's question lingered in the air, stark and unyielding. His voice demanded answers, yet offered no insight into the motives behind the interrogative words.

Alison swallowed down a sense of emptiness as his stern gaze met hers; she immediately regretted her words.

 though she hasn't set her eyes on this son of Mr. Montgon

The weight of her father's expectations and the reality of the impending union settled heavily upon her, like an insurmountable burden she was being forced to carry. 

The prospect of a life intertwined with a stranger became increasingly daunting, and Alison couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped in a decision she had no say in.

"Alison, this is something you've been reminded of every day," Mr. Harrington said. Alison could discern the determination in his voice; tears welled up in her eyes as she realized she couldn't escape the impending marriage. No one could change her father's resolute decision. This arrangement had been in place since her childhood.

Tears rolled down freely as she pondered what would become of her.

The imminent arranged marriage, a pact made when she was just sixteen, threatens to shatter her dreams of love and freedom

Mrs. Harrington her mother who has been in the living room all this while felt pity for Her 

Mr. Harrington stood, straightening his suit before announcing, "Mr. Montgon and his son are coming tomorrow." 

"It's for a dinner meeting at 5 p.m. Get ready before then. Your engagement Gala is in three days from now, we need to start preparing for the marriage arrangements, the wedding should be on Saturday next week " Mr. Harrington added.Alison's eyes widened at this revelation, and she stared at her father with teary eyes.

As Mr. Harrington reveals the impending dinner meeting and marriage arrangements with Mr. Montgon's son, the weight of an arranged marriage she has known since childhood comes crashing her down. 

Without sparing Alison a glance, Mr Harrington left the sitting room leaving Alison to confront a destiny she never wanted

Tears roll down freely as she contemplates a future dictated by her father's unyielding decisions.

She never once considered getting married after the incident of two Years ago.

 The night she was raped

The night she would rather forget—a dreadful evening that lingers incessantly in her thoughts.

How will she cope with her nightmare and the forthcoming marriage?

A flood of tears welled up in her eyes as she revisited the chapters of Asher's past life. The emotional journey encompassed the heartbreak inflicted by her ex-boyfriend Dean, the haunting memories of a dreadful Gala night, and the enigmatic mask that concealed Anthonio's face, shrouding his actions in mystery.

Each element of her past seemed to intertwine, forming a complex tapestry of emotions. The echoes of Dean's betrayal resonated in her heart, the wounds from their broken relationship still fresh. The Gala night, etched in her memory, bore the weight of an unsettling event that left its mark on her soul.

And then there was Anthonio, his mask becoming a symbolic representation of the secrets and uncertainties that enveloped their interactions. The ambiguity of his actions added another layer to her emotional turmoil, leaving her grappling with unanswered questions.

As tears blurred her vision, each component of As her past life unfolded, revealing a narrative of heartache, betrayal, and the lingering shadows of unanswered questions. The complexities of her emotional journey unfolded like a poignant novel, capturing the essence of her experiences and the intricacies that defined her path.

She harbors a strong aversion towards men and desires no connection with them after the rape incident. However, circumstances have led to her impending marriage to someone she has never laid eyes on.

As she faces the harsh reality, the nightmarish memories of a horrible incident fourteen years ago resurface, leaving Alison to confront a destiny she had hoped to avoid.

Ahh!" Alison rose, covering her mouth to stifle her tears.

"Ali..." Mrs. Harrington called, moving towards her.

"Alison..."

"Mom, don't..." Alison raised her hand, signaling her mother not to step forward.

Mrs Harrington understood Her daughter and stopped on her track

"Ali, you need to understand," Mrs. Harrington said from the distance where she stood, and Alison teared up before fleeing upstairs to her room..