Chapter 4 – The Devil's Offer
Rowan's POV
I turned to face her slowly, jaw clenched.
"What way?" I asked, voice flat, barely holding in my frustration.
She stood with her arms folded, head tilted. "I'll only tell you the way if you promise to do it," she said. "And… give me my percentage."
I stared at her.
Of course.
There it was—the catch. There was always a catch with her. Nothing she ever did came without a twisted price tag. My stepmother never helped anyone out of kindness. It was always about what she could gain.
And now she wanted a percentage?
What was she planning this time? Sell my kidney? Sell my soul?
"I should promise to do something I haven't even heard?" I asked, folding my arms. "And on top of that, promise you a cut of it? Really?"
She smiled, like she already expected that response.
"I just needed to be sure you'd be interested," she said casually.
"No. What you needed," I said, stepping forward, "was someone desperate enough to say yes without thinking."
I stared her down.
"There's something suspicious about you, and even more suspicious about whatever this 'offer' is," I said, narrowing my eyes. "The fact that you're trying to force me to agree first tells me this is bad. So no. I'm not interested."
I brushed off my trousers and stood tall.
"I'd rather walk away right now and go figure something else out—anything else—than agree to whatever shady thing you're about to offer."
I turned and started walking off.
"Even if you walk," she said calmly behind me, "we both know you're not going to ever get that money.."
I stopped in my tracks.
"Let's not pretend," she continued, her voice louder now. "No matter how hard you try, no matter what job you manage to get—if you even manage to get one—you'll never raise enough money to save him."
I slowly turned my head.
"You? Raise ninety-two thousand dollars?" She scoffed. "You couldn't raise nine. Not even quarter of it."
Her voice was full of the truth I didn't want to admit.
"Unless, of course, you're willing to sell a kidney," she said with a little smirk, "which we both know you won't."
My fists clenched at my sides.
"So why not just hear me out?" she asked, tilting her head. "You want your father alive, don't you? You want to give him the treatment he needs and maybe come out richer yourself?"
"I want your father to live," she said slowly. "And I know you do too. So if you're really in… if you're ready to stop pretending that your pride can fix this, then say the word."
She walked a few steps closer. Her voice dropped.
"Or… you can just keep walking. Like the coward you are. Let your father die slowly, thinking his son truly believed that a miserable job or some kind stranger was going to magically save him."
She paused.
"Oh wait," she added with a mocking smile, "you don't even have a job anymore."
I swallowed hard. My hands trembled.
"The choice is yours, Rowan," she said coolly. "But just know… this offer? It won't be on the table for long."
She turned away and walked toward the hospital entrance like she didn't care whether I followed or not.
I stood there, frozen in place.
So many thoughts were crashing through my head I couldn't even hold onto one.
Why was she offering help?
What did she want in return?
Why would she suddenly care about saving my dad?
None of this made sense. None of it felt right.
But the worst part is that she was right.
I had no job. No money. No savings.
I couldn't even raise a tenth of what I needed—and I knew it.
So maybe…
Maybe I should just hear her out.
Maybe—just maybe—her terrible plan might be the only way to save him.
And if it was…
Would I really say no?
Besides… there's nothing wrong with just hearing her out, right?
It's not like I'd be forced to do anything I didn't want to do.
That's what I told myself as I stood there, watching her walk toward the hospital doors.
"Alright… alright, stop," I finally called out.
She paused instantly, turning back with a smile.
I folded my arms and stared at her. I really hope whatever idea she has is worth it.
"I'm ready to hear whatever you have to say," I told her. "I'll do anything to save my father."
Her smile stretched wider, showing every single tooth like she was advertising toothpaste.
"Now you're talking," she said sweetly. "That's the Rowan I know—the one that will take risks."
She stepped toward me, her heels clicking against the floor, then pulled out a slim folder from her bag.
"But before we start," she said, holding it out, "you need to sign this."
I looked at her, confused. "Why?"
She tapped the file. "Because this is proof that you agree to give me five percent of whatever money or profit you make from the business we're about to do."
I blinked.
Five percent? Of what?
I stared at her for a long second.
I wanted to call her wicked. I wanted to scream that she was selfish and heartless. My dad—her husband—was literally lying in a hospital bed dying, and all she could think about was percentages?
I reached for the pen she was already holding out like she knew I'd give in. I signed the paper with trembling fingers and handed it back.
Her smile grew. "Perfect!"
"That's enough smiling," I said sharply. "Now start talking."
She cleared her throat and slid the folder back into her bag.
"The business I want to introduce you to," she said carefully, "is very simple. If you agree to it, your father's surgery will be paid for immediately. And more than that—you'll receive half a million dollars into your account."
My heart skipped.
Half a million?
That didn't sound like a business. That sounded like something dangerous. Or illegal. Or both.
"You better not be about to offer me an organ deal," I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "Because that kind of money doesn't come without a cost."
She laughed. "Relax. You get to keep all your organs. I promise."
"Then get to the point," I said. "What do I have to do to get that money?"
Her eyes sparkled as she finally dropped the bomb.
"It's very simple," she said. "You just need to get married into a family."
I blinked. Then I laughed.
This woman is mad.
"You and I both know," I said, "if there was a rich family out there offering that kind of money for marriage, you'd have shoved Anita into it before anyone else."
Her smile didn't even flinch.
"Everything adds up, Rowan," she said, almost sweetly. "Anita is in love with someone she actually wants to marry. I'm not about to ruin that."
"And me?" I asked.
"You don't have anyone," she replied without hesitation. "No relationship. No future. No goals."
Ouch.
"You're the better option," she continued. "No strings. No real plans. And that's exactly what this family needs right now."
I stared at her for a long moment.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Who am I supposed to marry?"
She looked me right in the eyes.
"You're getting married to their son."
My breath caught.
I blinked.
I thought maybe I misheard.
"Wait. What?"
"You're getting married," she repeated slowly, "to their son."
I took a step back. "What? But… but I'm straight! I'm not gay!"