Dawn wiped her hands on her apron, standing behind the counter as the pizzeria quieted after the lunch rush. The smell of melted cheese still clung to the air, and soft chatter drifted from a few lingering customers. Across from her, Alex leaned against the counter, munching on a breadstick like she owned the place.
"You're amazing at this, Dawn," Alex said, grinning. "Seriously. Do you live alone? I swear your energy's unreal—I'd love to come crash at your place someday."
Dawn chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You might rethink that once you see it. I live with my three siblings."
Alex's eyes widened. "Three? Girl, I can barely survive one cousin staying over."
"You don't have siblings?"
"I do," Alex said with a smirk. "But I hate them, so they don't count."
They both broke into laughter, the sound filling the small shop. For a moment, Dawn forgot about rent, bills, and all the worries waiting for her at home.
Then the doorbell jingled.
The laughter died instantly.
A woman in her forties walked in, dressed in an elegant cream coat and pearls that screamed old money. Her presence alone shifted the air—like the world had tilted just slightly to make room for her.
Alex straightened. "Oh my God… that's Daphne Manchester," she whispered, her voice trembling with awe. "What's she doing here?"
Dawn's heart stumbled. She recognized that face—the same one that had glared out of the sleek black car a few days ago.
"I need a word with you," Daphne said, her tone firm, leaving no room for hesitation.
Dawn exchanged a nervous glance with Alex, then followed Daphne to a corner booth.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Dawn began, wringing her fingers. "If this is about the car thing—please, don't get me fired. I really need this job."
Daphne's sharp expression softened, though her voice remained steady. "Relax. I didn't come to cost you your job, Miss Collins. I came to offer you one."
Dawn blinked, confused. "Another job?"
"Yes. One that will allow you to settle your debts and take care of your siblings."
Her stomach twisted. "How—how do you know about that?"
"Let's just say I do my research," Daphne said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I've been keeping an eye on you."
Dawn's heart skipped. "Why?"
Daphne leaned forward, her polished nails tapping the table. "Because I need your help. And if you agree, you'll be paid well for it."
"How well?"
"An upfront payment of three thousand dollars," Daphne replied, her tone calm and deliberate. "And six thousand every month afterward."
The world seemed to freeze. The cash register's quiet beeps. The chatter from the kitchen. Everything blurred.
"That's… a lot of money," Dawn managed. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Daphne's gaze softened, the faintest hint of pain flickering across her features. "I want you to help someone I love, my son, Adam."
Dawn's throat tightened. "Your son?"
"Yes," Daphne said quietly. "He's lost his wife to a coma. A years ago, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Since then, she hasn't woken up. He visits her every day, sits by her bed, barely eats, barely sleeps. I'm terrified I'm going to lose him too."
Dawn's breath caught. She could see the sorrow behind Daphne's polished mask, and for a moment, she didn't see a powerful woman, just a mother drowning in helplessness.
"What do you want me to do for him?"
"Befriend him. Bring him out of his shell. Make him fall in love with you... and marry him," Daphne said quietly, each word deliberate. "In return, you'll be taken care of, for life, if you wish."
Dawn stared at her, stunned. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious."
"I—I don't even know your son," she whispered. "And love doesn't work like that."
Daphne smiled faintly. "No, it doesn't. But sometimes it needs a push."
Dawn stood, her pulse quickening. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't do that."
"Think about it," Daphne said, her tone cool again. "I'll be waiting."
* * * * * *
Dawn couldn't stop thinking about it. The whole way home, the words chased her like shadows: $6,000 a month… take care of your siblings… start over.
Her stomach twisted with guilt. How could I even think about it?
Then she saw the sign.
LOCKED.
Her heart dropped. The landlord's notice fluttered on the door, and the lock was sealed shut.
"No, no, no," she whispered, jiggling the handle. Panic clawed at her chest. "Not today. Please."
Her phone buzzed.
"Aunt Peige."
She answered instantly. "Where are they? My siblings—"
"They're fine," Peige interrupted coolly. "They're with me. I told you this would happen, didn't I? You'd come crawling back."
"Peige, please, don't do this. I'll pay the rent and come get them. I swear, just don't take them away from me."
But the line had already gone dead.
Tears welled in her eyes. She pressed her back against the door and slid down, her breath shaky. The streetlight flickered above her, cold and uncaring.
"I can't lose them," she whispered.
* * * * * *
That night, Dawn stood outside the Manchester estate, her breath visible in the chill. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the brass gate handle.
Her heart screamed no. But desperation whispered yes.
She took a deep breath and knocked.
The door opened to reveal Daphne, composed as ever.
"Not expecting you so soon," Daphne said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
Dawn's voice trembled, but her eyes didn't waver. "I accept your offer."
Daphne's lips curved into something between relief and satisfaction. "Good. Then let's begin."