Chapter 6
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the same pristine hallway she had staggered down just the night before. Her breathing was ragged, heart pounding as if trying to catch up with her thoughts. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs burning from the sprint from the hospital. But nothing could slow her down — not the stares from the staff, not the pristine silence of this golden tower, not even the weight of what she was about to do.
Amelia reached the heavy oak doors of his office and didn't knock.
She pushed through, her hands trembling and her clothes damp with sweat. There he was — the man in the tailored charcoal suit, sitting with unnerving calm behind a glass desk. A tablet rested in his hand, but he looked up immediately, eyes dark and unreadable.
"You came back quicker than I thought," he said, voice smooth as silk but edged with something harder. "Have a seat."
"I don't need to sit," she said, breathless. "I'll do it. I'll sign the contract. Just… help my brother."
There was a flicker in his eyes — not surprise exactly, but something close. He set the tablet down carefully and stood, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps.
"Are you sure you understand what you're agreeing to?" he asked, voice lower now. "Once you say yes, there's no backing out, Amelia."
She flinched slightly at the sound of her name on his lips. "How do you know my name?"
"You were unconscious when I found you. My physician needed details," he said, with no remorse in his tone. "I made a few calls, checked your ID. You shouldn't carry that much pain in your eyes at your age."
Amelia looked away. The mention of her pain, the depth of it, almost broke her resolve.
"There's no one else," she whispered. "No one to help me. No family, no money. My mom can't take this — she was already trembling when I told her we had to rush Rian to the hospital. And now they're asking for $2,600… We don't even have $26 at home."
The man said nothing for a long beat, then turned and walked toward a cabinet. He pulled out a sleek folder — thick paper, embossed in silver. He placed it gently on the table.
"This is the contract. You'll be my wife. Publicly. A marriage of convenience. No feelings, no expectations."
Amelia's lips parted in shock. "You want me to… marry you?"
He nodded, unbothered. "Only on paper. It keeps the board happy. I'm expected to settle down by the end of the year, or I lose my position. In exchange, you get what you need — money for your brother, protection, and a clean life away from debt."
Her fingers clenched the hem of her shirt. "So I become a name on your arm and a photo in the tabloids."
"It won't be forever. Just long enough for my shareholders to believe the act."
"And I get the money upfront?"
"As soon as you sign."
There was a pause — thick, heavy with the weight of her dreams, her shame, her shattered pride. A few hours ago, she was lying in the street, wondering if the world would care if she vanished. Now she was being offered a way out. A strange one. But a way nonetheless.
Amelia stepped forward, took the pen from his desk, and signed her name at the bottom of the page.
Her hands shook the entire time.
The man watched her, expression unreadable, eyes narrowing only once — when he noticed how the pen slipped in her grip. But he said nothing.
When she was done, she straightened and met his gaze. "Now what?"
"Now," he said, tucking the contract into a drawer, "you go to the hospital. The money will be wired within the hour. Your brother will get the surgery. And you'll start preparing to move in by the end of the week."
She blinked. "Move in?"
He looked at her like it was obvious. "Wives don't live in separate houses, Amelia."
The panic returned, but she swallowed it down. This was what she signed up for.
He turned away, already tapping on his phone. "My driver is waiting downstairs. He'll take you."
⸻
The hospital felt colder this time, despite the bustling nurses and the comforting scent of disinfectant. Amelia stood at the reception desk, pale and quiet, while the woman behind the counter checked the system.
"Yes," the nurse said after a few clicks. "The surgery fee has been cleared. Dr. Meyers is prepping already."
Amelia almost dropped to her knees in relief. She blinked rapidly, forcing back tears as she whispered a thank you. The nurse gave her a puzzled smile but didn't press.
She walked down the hallway toward the emergency ward, where her brother was being kept. Her mother stood outside the room, looking small and worn. The tears on her face had dried, but her eyes were dull with fear.
"Mom," Amelia said, gently.
Her mother turned, pulled her into a tight hug. "The doctor said someone paid… was it you? How… how did you—?"
"I'll explain later," Amelia said, brushing her hand down her mom's back. "Just focus on Rian for now. He's going to be okay."
But even as she said the words, her body began to tremble again. Not from fear. Not from fatigue.
But from the weight of the price she had just paid.