The rain was merciless that night. It pounded the city like it had something to prove, washing the streets in silver, drowning out footsteps, and making every shadow tremble in the lamplight.
Inside a small café tucked at the corner of Eastwood Avenue, Lena Zhao sat with her back straight and her hands clasped tightly around a chipped ceramic mug. The coffee inside had long turned lukewarm, but she didn't dare let go. If she did, her trembling hands would betray the storm inside her.
The café was nearly empty. Only a few students whispered over their laptops, their laughter dim against the rain. The world outside might have been falling apart, but in here, life seemed annoyingly normal. For Lena, though, nothing was normal anymore.
She lowered her gaze to the phone lying face down on the table. The call from the bank replayed in her head like a cruel echo:
"Your father's company is bankrupt, Miss Zhao. Debt recovery will begin immediately."
One sentence had shattered everything.
Her family's reputation, their home, their comfort—it was all gone. Just like that. But the cruelest blow had come later that afternoon, from the hospital.
"We regret to inform you that your mother's treatment has been suspended due to overdue payments."
Lena had begged, humiliated herself, promised she would find the money somehow. But promises didn't pay medical bills. And her mother, the strongest woman she knew, was lying unconscious in a sterile white bed, her breaths shallow and her body weak.
A wave of helplessness crashed over Lena, and she gripped the mug tighter. She had no money. No family to lean on. No one—
The café door chimed.
A gust of cold air slipped inside, along with the faint smell of rain-soaked asphalt. Her heart lurched before she even saw him.
He walked in like he owned the world, his tall frame commanding the room without effort. A tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders, the faint gleam of silver cufflinks catching the dim light. His face was sharper than memory—chiselled jaw, obsidian eyes, lips curved into a line too stern to be called a smile.
Adrian Xu.
Lena's pulse quickened. She hadn't seen him in years. Not since the night she left him behind, not since the mistake that changed everything. Yet here he was, more dangerous, more untouchable than ever.
Her throat went dry. Of all the people in the city, why him?
Adrian's gaze swept the café and landed on her instantly. His eyes darkened, unreadable, but there was something in the way he looked at her—like a hunter finding a wounded deer.
He crossed the room without hesitation. Each step echoed like a warning. Lena wanted to shrink into her seat, but her pride held her still. She wouldn't cower. Not in front of him.
"You're late," Adrian said flatly as he slid into the chair opposite her.
Lena forced her voice to steady. "I didn't ask you to come."
"No," he replied, leaning back with unnerving calm. "But you called me anyway."
Her lips parted, then pressed shut. She hated that he was right. She had dialed his number out of sheer desperation. She had told herself she'd never crawl back to him, never after what happened between them. But tonight, with her mother's life slipping through her fingers, she had no one else to turn to.
Her silence amused him. A faint, mocking curve touched his lips.
"Still stubborn, I see," Adrian murmured. His voice was low, smooth, but there was steel underneath. "But stubbornness won't save your mother."
Her chest tightened. "Don't—"
"I know everything, Lena." His gaze hardened, pinning her in place. "The bankruptcy. The debts. The hospital bills."
The words stung. Hearing them from his mouth was unbearable, like he was peeling away every layer of dignity she had left.
She lowered her eyes, biting down on her lip until she tasted iron. "If you know all that, then you know why I'm here."
Adrian didn't answer. Instead, he pulled a sleek leather folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table between them. The sound was soft, but to Lena, it was deafening.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for it. She flipped it open—and froze.
Marriage Contract.
Her eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious," Adrian said, his tone glacial.
Lena's chest heaved as she stared at the neat lines of text, the cruelly simple terms laid out in black and white. It wasn't just a contract. It was a chain.
Her vision blurred. She had known Adrian could be ruthless, but this…
"You expect me to marry you," she whispered. "After everything—after what happened?"
His eyes narrowed, unreadable shadows flickering in their depths. "Exactly because of what happened."
Her heart sank. This was revenge. Adrian Xu hadn't forgotten. He hadn't forgiven.
"Why?" The word slipped out before she could stop it, her voice breaking.
Adrian leaned forward, his face mere inches from hers. His cologne—dark, sharp, familiar—wrapped around her like a trap.
"Because you owe me, Lena," he said, each word deliberate, merciless. "You owe me more than you realize."
The room tilted. She wanted to scream, to deny it, but her throat closed.
Adrian tapped the contract. "Sign this, and your mother's treatment continues tomorrow. Your father's debts disappear. Everything you've lost—restored."
Her breath caught.
"And if I refuse?" she forced out.
His gaze was like a blade. "Then you lose everything you're clinging to. Your choice."
The rain outside hammered harder, drowning out her heartbeat. The café had grown silent, though she knew people were still there. It felt like the world had narrowed to this table, this contract, this man.
Her trembling hand hovered over the pen. She hated him. She hated the arrogance in his tone, the satisfaction in his eyes. But more than anything, she hated herself—for considering it.
Her mother's face flashed in her mind. Pale. Fragile. Dying.
Adrian's voice dropped, softer but more lethal. "Don't think for a second this is love. Whatever we had is long dead."
Lena's head snapped up, her eyes locking with his. And for the first time, beneath that icy mask, she saw it.
Not hatred. Not indifference.
But something raw. Wounded. A scar he carried because of her.
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers brushed the pen.
And then—
The lights in the café flickered. A waiter dropped a tray with a loud crash. Lena flinched, her pen slipping from her grasp. Adrian's gaze never wavered.
The contract lay open between them, daring her to choose.