After the couple has settled into their garden seats, I join them at the table they've selected, taking a seat on one of the available couches.
I am astounded by the garden's blossoms. I am making my first ever appearance in the garden.
Everyone in the house has to use the keypad, but some kids still find a way in and do weird stuff. The beauty of the work of art before me is more than adequately conveyed by their remarks about the attraction of this site.
I can see why it is considered the most lavish and sumptuous part of the estate now.
Accompanied by their varied aromas, the beautiful arrangement of colorful flowers creates a serene scene for guests.
A variety of flowers adorn the garden, including roses, lilies, orchids, and tulips of different colors. In another area, marigolds, daisies, and jasmines enhance the aesthetic appeal.
This place looks like paradise with two marble tables side by side and four cushions on each; the restriction's rationale is now clear. Between the tables is a bookshelf, and on each table, you can find a landline and a covered glass bowl with grapes and sliced kiwi.
"It seems you have a thing for gardens," the woman says, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and adoration as she looks at me.
I politely respond, "I am an admirer of nature, madam," while smiling artificially and looking down at my hands; I have no idea what has caused her to be so embarrassed or worried.
"Never again will you be addressed me as "mam, my dear. I'm going to be your mom, and it would mean a lot to me if you addressed me as such instead," she begs with a hopeful tone in her voice.
"Why would you'd like to be my mother?" I was under the impression that they did not want me there, so I asked with confusion.
I was confused because she wanted me to refer to her as my mother, but she was also apologizing for that reason.
"My darling, by adopting you, we are committing to become your parents, and you will be blessed with a family of your own," the man says, his voice brimming with desire.
"Could I ask you a question?" Curiously, I watch my potential parents, and they nod in my direction.
Asking, "Why do you want to adopt me?" I mean, seriously, who wants to adopt a teen when they can pick out any cute baby they want?
"No matter how much you struggle to define who you are, we still want to adopt you for all the wonderful qualities that make you who you are. In any case, could you fill us in on a little more about who you are? The information in your profile is not sufficient for us to make a decision." With a gentle touch, the woman takes hold of my hand and smiles.
I choose to tell her what I think she wants to hear because I am perplexed by her response.
"My name is Hazel, and I was born on May 3rd. I am sixteen years old. Reading and designing are two of my favorite activities. Sweets, chocolate, and strawberries are some of my favorite foods." My introduction comes to a tentative end.
"Why do you go by the name Hazel?" As he looks at the woman, the husband asks with interest.
"Three days after my birth, I was found unidentified behind a dumpster near the orphanage. In addition to my clothing and the costly silk that encircles me, the authorities have a policy against children like me and my classmates, sorting some of us according to our eye color, the month we were born in, or the place we were found," I replied quickly.
"So, you and your friends were probably chosen based on the color of your eyes," the woman speculates with a restrained smile. I nod in response, wondering how she knows my friends' names.
"Could you care less about changing your name now that the adoption is finalized?" With a mix of hope and agony in his voice, the man questions me.
I tell him the truth: "I have always wanted a name that is not dependent on my looks.".
Because being named after our looks has a lasting impact on us, my friends and I planned to change our names when we left the system.
"I am very impressed. It seems like you're really into design; could you tell me what you hope to accomplish in the future?" The woman asks with an air of intrigue.
"My friends and I plan to apply for scholarships; however, in the event that we are not selected, we have arranged for after-school jobs to compensate. When we get out of the system, we plan to put all of our money toward college and a place to live. Furthermore, my career goal is to establish myself as a prominent designer." Along with them as my parents, I pray that they will grant me the opportunity to achieve my goals.
"Very few people your age have come up with such comprehensive plans, complete with backup plans in case things don't work out. Well done! You have my utmost admiration, and we are here to help you achieve your dreams." The man grins widely as he joyfully exclaims and wildly embraces the woman on one side.
"Is her occupation known to you?" After noticing my bewilderment, he asks me a question; when I shake my head, he looks surprised.
He seems to be in trouble, but why?
The woman asked, "Do you know his identity?" As she pointed to the man in despair; I, again, shook my head in confusion.
I had let down myself because I didn't realize I was supposed to know them before they came.
"Such is the nature of fame; she is oblivious to our identities, Teroso," the man contends angrily to the woman, and they both look downcast.
I looked down at my jeans and said, "I'm sorry I didn't know more about you; I had no idea I would be considered for adoption."
"You shouldn't ever apologize, my darling. A Marshall is better than everyone, especially my daughter," my husband said as he sat down in front of me. A smile spread across his face as he spoke to me.
Even though I can only nod in agreement, his words still ring in my head. Of all the things he said, the name "Marshall" stood out, as it always does when it's mentioned.
I know who the Marshalls are even when I don't have many friends, because even the most ignorant person would notice them.
Many see them as the most influential couple in America, if not the whole continent.
A business magnate is the spouse. He owns a plethora of companies, including those that make private jets and airplanes, and he rules the American corporate scene.
More than 46% of the world's car companies' shares are in his possession. He has a hand in the gas and oil business. Also, a business magnate, as I indicated before.
As the head designer and owner of a luxury cosmetics line that sells the most expensive makeup on the market, his wife rules the female business sector.
She has no children despite being the highest-paid actress in Hollywood, according to Forbes.
It would appear that they were too busy thinking about how to do their jobs to even consider making one.
I still remember the look on Mr. Bright's face and the name he used to address them in the auditorium, but he clearly isn't ungenuine.
Surely, they aren't meant to be the power couple. As I try to make sense of the seemingly unrelated ideas, I find myself pondering.
As members of the Marshall family, the wife's friends include Natasha Black and Reign Walker, among many others.
My friends and I will probably stay together if the other couples are relatives.
Like a celebrity among celebrities, the Marshalls are a major benefactor to the orphanage.
Given the couple's heavy security details and Mr. Bright's visibly anxious expression during their conversation, it's no wonder he said one of the couples is very powerful.
As they look at me with smiles, I look up in recognition, and their expressions clear up my confusion.
"Are you the Marshalls?" After asking the most ignorant question conceivable, I realize my mistake and feel a pang of shame.
"No need to be embarrassed, my dear," says Mrs. Marshall as she smiles.
"You look so endearing when you're embarrassed." In the midst of his interjection, Mr. Marshall gently presses his long, delicate fingers against my cheeks.
Why would the most powerful couple in America want to adopt me? That is just one of many questions that are running through my head.
Is their friendliness the norm, or is it an act to win me over before they show me their infamous cruelty?
"My darling, don't think too much, and if you want to ask anything, go ahead," Mrs. Marshall teased as she delicately ran her fingers over the growing lines of stress on my forehead.
"My friends, what about them?" I would like to make sure that I am not the only one leaving with an impressive family.
"Some friends of the family have offered to adopt them, so they'll be able to come see us often, so they'll be okay." Regarding their new families, Mr. Marshall also offers reassurance.
"Would it be possible for me to get your contact information so we can stay in touch before the adoption paperwork is finalized?" With a shiny new phone held out to me, Mrs. Marshall asks.
"I am not in possession of a phone," I reply, my head trembling.
"You do now," As she watches my reluctance, she smiles and slides her phone into my palm. Her attempt at persuasion is evident in her assertion that "it's is only temporary, my darling."
"Right now?" I respond bewildered, not understanding what she is trying to say. Her husband is asked to help her.
"Becoming our daughter brings many benefits, including a personal protection detail, a chauffeur, housekeepers, a babysitter, and more. So, tomorrow, one of your drivers will bring the devices that have been ordered for you and your friend." The proposals are too much for a regular girl like me, even though my soon-to-be father explains it.
In a polite way, how can I tell them no?
"Similar benefits are enjoyed by your friends. Without a security detail to keep our daughter safe while she is away from us, my darling, we will never be able to find peace. For our emotional health, I implore you to give in to this." My soon to be mother watches me as she implores.
Her way of putting it makes it hard to say no, and I imagine that my friends feel the same way. Both of them embrace me after I nod in agreement.
We need the love and happiness that only a family can provide, so I hope this is the beginning of a new chapter for us.