CHAPTER 7: THE SPONSOR'S GAME
ARORA'S POV
The silk rose on the seat beside her seemed to mock her, its perfect petals a stark contrast to the chaos inside her. The limo, a luxurious prison, glided through the pre-dawn darkness. Elara Thorne, poised and chillingly calm, watched Arora with an unnerving intensity. This wasn't some reality TV twist; this was a meticulously crafted trap, sprung the moment Arora had uttered the words, "You are my missing piece."
"You're silent," Elara observed, her voice as smooth as the leather seats. "A natural reaction, I suppose, when one's entire existence is revealed to be... a carefully arranged sequence of events."
Arora finally found her voice, a raw whisper. "You said 'divine coincidence.' You said 'solution.' What exactly am I?" The word 'cure' still echoed in her mind, chilling her to the bone.
Elara chuckled, a soft, detached sound. "You are, Miss Creek, a key. Nathaniel's condition isn't merely an allergy. It's a complex, deeply rooted physiological response that has defied every medical intervention. His family, his entire empire, has suffered under this burden." She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "We've spent years searching for an antidote, a unique biological signature that could counteract his affliction. And then... we found you."
Arora flinched. "You found me? How?"
"Let's just say, our research network is vast," Elara replied, a hint of steel in her tone. "Your unique biological markers, discovered through a very routine, very public, voluntary health screening, were... intriguing. They indicated a complete absence of the very triggers that plague Nathaniel. An extraordinary anomaly."
Arora remembered the "random" medical test at her university, a convenient, free screening for international students. She'd barely thought about it. Now, it felt like the first thread in a web that had ensnared her.
"So my scholarship, my visa... they weren't luck?" Arora asked, the betrayal a bitter taste.
"They were... incentives," Elara admitted with a shrug. "Pathways to bring you to Nathaniel's proximity without raising suspicion. The show was merely the final, elegant stage. A public spectacle to mask a private, critical trial. You are, in essence, the control. The variable we needed to observe."
Arora recoiled. "I'm a test subject?"
Elara's smile thinned. "You are the potential solution. Think of the good, Miss Creek. The release, the freedom Nathaniel could finally experience. His wealth, his influence... it could reshape the world. And you, by simply being you, could unlock that."
"And if I refuse?" Arora challenged, despite the tremor in her voice.
Elara's gaze hardened, losing all warmth. "Then, as I said, your scholarship vanishes. Your visa is revoked. Your family in your home country might find themselves facing… unexpected difficulties. And Nathaniel will return to his suffering, perhaps forever. We are not asking, Miss Creek. We are stating the terms of your future."
The limo pulled up to a secluded, high-walled estate, even more private than the mansion. This was not a temporary stay. This was a new cage. Arora looked out at the imposing gates, the security cameras glinting like eyes in the early light. She was trapped. But a tiny spark of defiance ignited within her. She was not a test subject. She was Arora Creek, and she would not be anyone's puppet.
NATHANIEL'S POV
The silence in the penthouse was deafening after Arora bolted. Jake stood in the doorway, pale and rigid. Nathaniel slammed his fist on the counter, the force rattling the champagne bucket. "What the hell was that, Jake?! Where did she go?"
Jake winced. "Nate, you need to calm down."
"Calm down? She just ran out into a waiting limo! Whose limo, Jake? Who is 'we'? What exactly have you dragged me into?" Nathaniel stalked toward him, his voice a low growl. "You said she was different. You said she was an 'anomaly.' You didn't say she was part of some grand, twisted scheme!"
Jake finally met his gaze, his usual bravado gone. "It's complicated, Nate. My family... they're heavily invested in your recovery. Deeply. They've been funding countless research avenues, desperate to find a cure."
"A cure? By parading me on a reality show and somehow 'finding' a woman who doesn't make me break out in hives?" Nathaniel scoffed, running a hand through his hair. The anger was a furious burn, but beneath it, a cold fear twisted in his gut. Arora. She was out there, in someone else's hands, because of him.
"It's a long story," Jake admitted, his shoulders slumping. "But yes. Your allergy, your ED... it's been devastating for the family's legacy, their influence. My father... he initiated a global search for someone with your specific, extreme immunological profile who showed no reaction to certain, carefully selected bio-markers."
Nathaniel stared. "Bio-markers?"
"They found a handful of candidates over the years, but only one truly perfect match. Someone with a natural immunity, a unique biological response that counteracts... everything that affects you. Arora." Jake's voice dropped. "They've been monitoring her for a while. Carefully. Her visa, her scholarship, the show… it was all orchestrated to bring her into your orbit. To confirm the 'cure.'"
Nathaniel felt a surge of nausea, worse than any allergic reaction. "You mean she's been a pawn? All this time?" The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. "And you knew?"
Jake nodded, his eyes filled with a raw mix of guilt and desperation. "I had to, Nate. They pushed. They threatened. It was the only way to get you the help you needed. They promised it was for your good, that she'd be rewarded handsomely."
"Rewarded? She just looked at me like I was a monster!" Nathaniel roared, pacing the luxurious suite like a caged lion. "Where is she now, Jake? Who took her?"
"My mother," Jake whispered, finally revealing the shadowy figure. "Elara Thorne. She's the head of the foundation funding all the research. She believes Arora is the key. She won't let her go."
Nathaniel stopped dead. Elara Thorne. His aunt. The formidable, brilliant, ruthless woman who controlled a significant portion of his family's empire. She had always been obsessed with his "legacy," his "restoration."
"So, I'm cured," Nathaniel said, the words bitter, hollow. "And she's a prisoner." He looked at Jake, his eyes blazing. "This isn't a cure, Jake. This is a theft. And we are going to fix it."