The city lights blurred outside the taxi window as Elena sat stiffly in the back seat, her fingers twisting the strap of her worn bag. Rain streaked across the glass, each droplet catching the neon glow of skyscrapers she could never dream of entering — except now, she already had.
Blackwood Tower.
Adrian Blackwood's eyes still haunted her. Cold, merciless, demanding. "You'll marry me."
She pressed her forehead against the glass, heart thundering.
Marriage? To a man she barely knew? A man who spoke of curses as if they were business deals? She wanted to laugh, but the ache in her chest kept the sound trapped in her throat.
The driver glanced at her in the mirror. "Rough night?"
Elena forced a smile. "Something like that."
Her phone buzzed in her bag. Another message from the hospital: FINAL WARNING — overdue balance. Immediate action required.
Her throat tightened. She didn't even want to look.
The taxi pulled up in front of St. Mary's General Hospital, its fluorescent sign flickering like a dying candle. Elena paid the driver with the last crumpled bills in her wallet and stepped out into the damp night air.
The smell of rain mixed with disinfectant hit her as she entered the building. Nurses rushed by, machines beeped in steady rhythm, and the weight of despair clung to the air.
Her father's room was at the end of the hall. She pushed the door open gently.
"Lena," her father rasped, his face pale against the pillow. His smile, though weak, lit up the room. "You came."
Elena hurried to his side, taking his frail hand in hers. "Of course I did, Dad. How are you feeling?"
"Better now," he whispered, patting her hand. "But you shouldn't be here so late. You need rest."
"I'm fine," she lied, blinking back tears. "You're what matters."
A soft cough wracked his chest. She helped him sip water, her heart breaking at how fragile he seemed. Her father, once so strong, reduced to this.
Her phone buzzed again. A call this time.
She declined it. She couldn't bear to hear another collector's threats.
Her father frowned. "Another one?"
Elena forced a smile. "Just a wrong number."
He didn't believe her, but he didn't press. Instead, he squeezed her hand. "You've been carrying too much, Lena. Don't waste your life worrying about me."
Tears pricked her eyes. "You are my life, Dad."
The door creaked open.
Elena stiffened. Grace stepped in, heels clicking softly on the tile. The assistant's polished calmness felt out of place in the shabby hospital room.
"Miss Rivera," she said gently, holding a cream-colored envelope. "Mr. Blackwood asked me to deliver this."
Elena frowned, taking it with hesitation. She opened it — and froze.
Her eyes widened. Inside was a single sheet, stamped with the hospital's logo.
Balance: PAID IN FULL.
Every last debt. Erased.
Her father blinked, confused. "Lena? What is it?"
Her throat tightened. "It's… nothing, Dad. Just paperwork."
Grace stepped closer, her tone professional but her gaze sympathetic. "Mr. Blackwood doesn't leave things unfinished. Your father's care is now secured. The hospital will receive direct payments from his office from now on."
Elena's knees felt weak. Relief and anger crashed inside her chest like colliding storms.
Relief, because her father's life was safe.
Anger, because she knew what this meant.
Her freedom was gone.
She shoved the paper back into the envelope. "Tell him I didn't ask for this."
Grace's lips pressed together. "You didn't have to."
Elena's voice cracked. "So what, now I owe him my soul?"
Grace hesitated, then spoke quietly. "You owe him nothing but what you've already agreed to. A marriage. Beyond that… he'll never force you more than he has to."
Elena gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, that's comforting. He's only forcing me to be his wife. How generous."
Her father coughed, trying to sit up. "Lena… what's happening?"
She turned quickly, forcing another smile. "Nothing, Dad. Just… nothing you need to worry about."
But her father's tired eyes searched hers, suspicious. She kissed his forehead before he could ask again.
Grace's phone buzzed. She answered in a low voice, nodding once before hanging up. "Yes, sir." She turned to Elena. "Mr. Blackwood expects you at the manor tomorrow evening. A car will be sent for you."
Elena's chest constricted. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
Her father looked confused. "Manor? Elena—"
Elena stood abruptly. "Get some rest, Dad. I'll be back tomorrow."
She kissed his cheek quickly and brushed past Grace into the hallway. Her father's frail voice called after her, but she couldn't bear to turn back.
The hallway seemed colder than before.
Grace walked beside her in silence until they reached the elevator. Just before Elena stepped inside, Grace touched her arm gently.
"Miss Rivera," she said softly, her professional mask slipping for a heartbeat. "Mr. Blackwood… he isn't as heartless as he seems. He's a man fighting demons you can't imagine."
Elena swallowed hard. "Then why doe
s it feel like I've just signed my life away to one of them?"
The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off Grace's reply.
Alone, Elena stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall. Her eyes were red, haunted. Her face pale. She looked like a ghost.
Tomorrow, she wouldn't just be Elena Rivera, daughter of a sick man, drowning in debt.
Tomorrow, she would be Mrs. Adrian Blackwood.
And nothing — not her father's relief, not the storm outside, not even her own fear — could change that.