Rain poured like the sky had a personal grudge.
Teresa Gilyard stood under the weak shelter of a flickering streetlight, her fingers trembling slightly as she checked her phone again.
No new messages.
No missed calls.
Just the same empty screen… and the weight in her chest growing heavier.
The hospital had called an hour ago.
"If the payment isn't completed by tomorrow morning, we'll have to stop treatment."
Her grip tightened around her phone.
Tomorrow. Not next week. Not next month.
Tomorrow.
A shaky breath left her lips as she laughed bitterly under the rain.
"Of course," she whispered. "Why not?"
Her life had always been one step away from falling apart. Tonight, it finally did.
The cafe across the street glowed warmly mocking her.
Teresa hesitated for a while… then stepped inside.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
Warmth wrapped around her instantly, but it did nothing to melt the cold sinking into her bones.
She walked toward the counter, water dripping from her clothes, earning a few annoying glances. Ignoring them, she reached into her bag-
And froze.
Her wallet was gone.
Her breath hitched.
"No… no, no, no…"
She searched frantically, emptying the contents of her bag onto the counter——lip balm, old receipts, a pen—-
But no wallet.
"Miss?" the cashier said, clearly irritated now. "Are you ordering or not?"
"I—- just a second, I had it, I swear—-"
"You're holding up the line."
Heat rushed to her face. The stares behind her grew sharper.
"I'll pay for her."
The voice came from behind— deep, calm, and dangerously composed.
Teresa turned.
And for a moment everything stilled.
He stood there like he didn't belong in the same world as everyone else.
Tall. Impossibly composed. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than her rent for a year.
His gaze met hers—cold, unreadable… and piercing enough to make her forget what she was about to say.
"I—" she started, then stopped.
He stepped forward, placing his card on the counter.
"Add whatever she wants," he said.
The cashier's attitude changed instantly. "Of course, sir."
Teresa blinked.
"Wait, I didn't ask for—"
"You needed help," he interrupted smoothly. "I offered."
Something about the way he said it made her chest tighten.
Not kind.
Not warm.
Just… factual.
Like helping her meant nothing.
She straightened, pride flickering despite her situation.
"I don't accept things for free."
His lips curved slightly—not quite a smile.
"Good."
He picked up the receipt, glanced at it briefly, then handed it to her.
"Then you can pay me back."
They sat across from each other in silence.
Teresa wrapped her hands around the cup of coffee, more for stability than warmth.
Up close, he was even more intimidating.
Sharp jawline. Dark eyes. The kind of presence that filled the entire space without trying.
"Who are you?" she finally asked.
"Lester Roland."
The name meant nothing to her— but the way he said it suggested it should.
"And you?" he asked.
"Teresa."
He nodded once, as if filing it away.
Silence returned.
Heavy. Pressing.
Then—
"How much do you need?"
Her head snapped up.
"What?"
His gaze didn't waver.
"You heard me."
A strange feeling crept up her spine.
"How do you know I need money?"
"Your reaction at the counter. The way you checked your phone before coming in. The fact that you're still here despite being uncomfortable."
He leaned back slightly.
"You're desperate."
The word hit harder than she expected.
Her jaw tightened. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough."
Something in his tone made her chest twist.
She should stand up. Walk away.
But she didn't.
Because he wasn't wrong.
"…Even if I did need money," she said carefully, "what does that have to do with you?"
Lester studied her for a while.
Then he reached into his jacket.
And placed something on the table.
A document.
Clean. Crisp.
Official.
Teresa frowned slightly as she pulled it closer.
Her eyes scanned the bold title at the top—
CONTRACT AGREEMENT
Her heart skipped.
"What is this?"
"A solution," he said calmly.
She flipped the page.
Her breath caught.
"…You want me to what?"
"Be my girlfriend."
The words sat between them.
Unreal. Heavy. Impossible.
Teresa let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"This is a joke."
"It isn't."
"You don't even know me."
"I don't need to."
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
"This is insane."
"Is it?"
His voice dropped slightly—quieter, sharper.
"You need money. I need someone to play a role."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers.
"I'll pay you."
Her heart started pounding.
"How much?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Lester didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he flipped the page… and turned it toward her.
Her eyes scanned the number.
And in that moment—
Everything went silent.
Her breath stopped.
Her thoughts froze.
Because the amount written there…
Could save her completely.
Hospital bills, debts, everything. All of it.
Gone.
Her fingers trembled.
"This… this isn't real."
"It is."
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
"What's the catch?" she whispered.
"There are rules."
He tapped the page lightly.
"Public appearances. Events. Occasional travel."
Her stomach tightened.
"And?"
A pause.
Just long enough to make her uneasy.
Then—
"Something in his tone made her hesitate before flipping to it.
Her eyes scanned the line slowly.
And then—
They widened.
No emotional attachment.
No personal involvement beyond agreed terms.
No falling in love.
Her throat went dry.
She let out a breathless laugh.
"You're serious."
"Completely."
Teresa looked up at him.
"You expect me to fake a relationship with you… and just not feel anything?"
"Yes."
"That's not how people work."
"It is." he said flatly, "when it's a contract."
Silence.
Her heart was racing now.
This is insane.
Dangerous.
Wrong.
But…
Tomorrow.
The hospital.
Her family.
Her hands clenched.
"…And if I refuse?"
Lester stood.
Just like that.
Calm. Unbothered.
"Then you walk away."
Something inside her chest tightened.
He adjusted his sleeve, his voice as composed as ever.
"But I wouldn't recommend it."
She frowned. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"
"No."
He met her eyes one last time.
"It's reality."
And then he turned.
And walked away.
"Wait."
The word left her before she could stop it.
He paused.
Slowly… he turned back.
Rain thundered harder against the glass now, echoing the chaos in her chest.
Teresa stood, her hands shaking slightly at her sides.
"…Why me?" she asked.
Out of all the people in the world.
Why her?
Lester's gaze darkened—just for a second.
Long enough for her to notice.
"Because," he said quietly,
"you won't fall in love with me."
Something about the way he said it—
Wasn't confidence.
Wasn't arrogance.
It sounded like certainty.
Like experience.
Like a warning.
A chill ran down her spine.
Teresa looked down at the contract again.
Then back at him.
Then down again.
Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely think.
This could save everything.
Or ruin her completely.
Slowly…
She picked up the pen.
Lester watched her carefully now.
For the first time—
There was tension in his gaze.
Anticipation.
Danger.
Teresa exhaled slowly.
And signed her name.
The moment the ink touched paper—
Her phone rang.
Sharp. Sudden. Jarring.
She flinched.
Lester's eyes flicked to it.
"Answer it."
Her fingers trembled as she picked up.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then—
A voice.
Low.
Unfamiliar.
And cold enough to freeze her blood.
"If you sign that contract…"
Her heart stopped.
"…you'll regret it."
The line went dead.
Teresa's hand slowly lowered.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
She looked up at Lester.
"…Who was that?@
For the first time since she met him—
He didn't answer immediately.
His jaw tightened.
His expression darkened.
And something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
"Looks like." he said quietly,
"you're already involved."
END OF CHAPTER 1