C8 Bullshit

Sitting on the sofa, Daisy's mind replayed the moment Emmanuel had awkwardly but endearingly stood up for her. Despite his foolishness, it was charming in its own way, and unexpectedly, a novel warmth blossomed in her heart, a warmth that, surprisingly, Emmanuel had ignited.

Yet, her mother's words rang true. Three days or three years, it wouldn't matter; Emmanuel couldn't possibly come up with eight million.

His promise was nothing more than a bitter joke, one that wasn't the least bit amusing.

Word had spread through the Morse family like wildfire. Behind closed doors, the busybody aunts gossiped about the hopeless son-in-law who had vowed to raise eight million in three days to fix the Daisy Group's financial crisis.

"Have you heard? Daisy's good-for-nothing husband thinks he can raise eight million in three days... Did his brain get mixed with concrete?"

"Exactly! That disabled son-in-law who showed up on our doorstep, he must be living in a fantasy."

"Seriously, this has got to be the funniest joke I've ever heard. It's a shoo-in for the best joke of 2019!"

"He must have lost his mind reading those rags-to-riches stories. How is this even possible?"

"If he manages to scrape together eight million in three days, I'll livestream my own demise..."

"..."

Listening to the biting mockery in secret, Daisy felt a chill in her heart.

She harbored not an ounce of sympathy for Emmanuel; instead, the disdainful looks from others only deepened her sense of hopelessness about him.

Sometimes, Daisy thought that any random beggar off the street would be a better match than Emmanuel.

Why on earth had she married such a deadbeat?

A day had passed since Emmanuel left the Morse household, and he hadn't returned home. He was probably too afraid to face them.

Perhaps it was for the best. If he simply walked away from the Morse family, from her, it would be a release for both the family and herself.

Who would want such a dead weight at home, only to endure the scorn of the world?

With Daisy's prospects, she had a plethora of options. Even considering a second marriage, the line of suitors would stretch around the globe three times over!

And though she had been married to Emmanuel in name for three years, she felt untouched, like an unopened bottle of exquisite wine, waiting for the right moment.

Why was there suddenly a twinge of loss in her heart?

Had her constant proximity to Emmanuel over the past three years subtly shifted her feelings from distaste to something less antagonistic?

After all, in those three years, Emmanuel had never once harmed her. He bore the label of 'loser' in silence when others mocked him.

Despite his reluctance, he carried out every task the Morse family set before him without a word of complaint.

When Avery tried to exploit the situation, Emmanuel stepped up and defended her. That had been Daisy's most comforting experience in all this time.

...

Meanwhile, Emmanuel stepped out from the Morse family's hold, feeling the metaphorical shackles fall away. He inhaled deeply, the fresh air tasting sweet and invigorating. It was an exhilarating sensation.

He felt a profound sense of rebirth, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Stretching languidly, he shook off the stifling oppression that had weighed on him for three years. In an instant, he was free.

I, Emmanuel, am finally back.

Wandering the streets and alleys of Bloidale, the familiar sights and smells greeted him – everything was just as he remembered.

Upon reflection, he began to regret the impulsive promise to gather eight million dollars in three days. In the heat of the moment, with his pride swelling in his chest, he hadn't thought it through – not with Daisy and her sharp-tongued mother-in-law, Georgia, watching.

Now, he was in a bind.

Indeed, impulse is the devil!

But where on earth would he find eight million dollars?