The restaurant kitchen was hot, the clang of pans and hiss of oil pounding in my skull as I scrubbed a stack of plates. My shift wasn't half over when my phone buzzed in my apron pocket. It was Lily. I almost didn't answer—my manager hated us touching our phones—but the third call came with a text: Papa can't breathe. Come home now.
Almost immediately My hands went numb, soap slipping from my fingers. I tore off my apron and ran, ignoring my manager's shouting. By the time I reached the apartment, Papa was on the floor, coughing so hard his whole body convulsed. Lily was crouched beside him, crying. "Papa, please!" I dropped to my knees, trying to hold him still. His lips were turning blue. We didn't even think. Lily and I half-carried him down the stairs, flagged the first taxi, and sped to the hospital. --- The doctor's face was grave. "Your father's lungs are failing. He needs immediate intervention. Without it—" "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "Please. Just tell me what it costs." He slid the estimate across the desk. My stomach dropped. It was impossible. I staggered into the corridor, my knees nearly giving way. Lily followed, her face streaked with tears. "Elena," she sobbed, clutching my arm. "What are we going to do? They won't treat him until—until we pay." I pressed my hands to my face, trying to breathe. How could I fix this? How— "Elena." That voice. I froze, then lowered my hands. Alexander Carter stood at the far end of the hall, immaculate in a charcoal suit that didn't belong anywhere near the peeling walls and flickering lights of the clinic. But somehow, he fit — like he belonged everywhere. My chest tightened. "You followed me." "I told you," he said simply, striding toward me, "I make it my business to know." I shook my head. "Not here. Not like this
." He stopped just before me, his eyes sweeping over my tear-streaked face, then flicking toward the ward where Papa lay fighting for breath. His expression hardened. "You already know what I'm going to say." My throat burned. "Don't." "Sign the contract, Elena," he said, voice low but unyielding. "And your father lives." The words cut like knives, but beneath them was the undeniable truth. I couldn't get that kind of money. Not today. Not ever. "Why me?" My voice cracked. "Out of all the people you could have, why trap me?" Something flickered in his eyes, too quick to catch. "Because you're the one I want." I shook my head, No"This is blackmail." "It's survival," he countered. Then, softer: "And the clock is ticking." My legs nearly gave out. I leaned against the wall, clutching at my chest. Lily was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes, silently begging me to do something. Anything. Alexander reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. He flipped it open and held out a pen. "One signature," he said. "And your father gets treatment tonight." I stared at the papers. My hands shook. My breath hitched. If I signed, I'd lose everything I had left—my freedom, my choices, maybe even myself. But if I didn't… My father would die. I lifted the pen with a trembling hand. Lily let out a broken sob. Alexander's gaze locked on mine, steady, relentless, waiting. The pen scratched across the paper. My name. My surrender. It was done. Alexander closed the folder, his expression unreadable. "Good girl." Behind me, the machines beeped steadily, as if life itself had been bought and bartered in ink. And I realized, with a shiver, that nothing in my world would ever be the same again. At his command The ink barely even dried when the hospital staff rushed my father into treatment. Lily squeezed my hand, her face wet with tears of relief. "You did it," she whispered. "Papa will be okay." But her gratitude sliced me open. Because I hadn't done it out of heroism. I'd done it because I was cornered and had no choice. When I got home that night, exhaustion clung to my bones. The contract folder was still in my bag, heavy like a chain. I sat at the edge of the bed, watching Lily tuck Papa's blanket tighter around him, whispering softly in her sleep beside him. I wanted to cry. But I couldn't let her see me break, I watched them until I dozed off --- The next morning, I heard a banging knock It wasn't gentle. When I opened the door, a tall man in a black suit stood there. His eyes swept over me with professional detachment. "Miss Elena?" "Yes?" My voice wavered. "I've been sent by Mr. Carter. The car is waiting." My stomach flipped. "Now? But my father—" "Mr. Carter's orders," he said flatly. "You'll be returned for visits." I glanced back at Lily, who was sitting on the couch, staring wide-eyed. I knelt in front of her, my heart hammering. "Take care of Papa. I'll… I'll come back soon." "Elena," she whispered, clutching my hands. "Are you sure about this?" I forced a smile I didn't feel. "I don't have a choice, Lily." She pulled me into a fierce hug, and for a moment, I let myself cling to her warmth before I tore myself away. --- The car was sleek, black, and far too silent. I sat in the back seat, my hands clenched in my lap, as the city blurred past. The farther we drove, the more unfamiliar the streets became — until the chaos of crowded shops and cracked pavements gave way to wide boulevards lined with glass towers and iron gates.
Then the car slowed before an estate that stretched further than my eyes could follow, my breath caught. The mansion loomed at the end of a perfectly trimmed driveway, guarded by tall gates and stone walls. Its windows glinted coldly in the sunlight, like eyes watching my every step. This wasn't a home. It was a fortress. The driver opened my door. "We've arrived, Miss.
wow " I stepped out, my cheap shoes sinking into the gravel. Everything here screamed of wealth and power I couldn't touch — marble steps, carved doors, fountains that probably cost more than my entire apartment building. The doors opened before I could knock. And there he was. Alexander Carter. He stood at the top of the stairs, flawless in another dark suit, his presence so commanding that the mansion itself seemed to bow to him. "Elena." His voice carried easily, calm but edged with authority. "Welcome to your new life." I swallowed hard, climbing the steps as though they might crumble beneath me. "This isn't my life," I whispered. "Correction," he said smoothly. "It is now." But Inside, the mansion was colder than I expected. Not in temperature, but in atmosphere. The marble floors gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled, the art on the walls seemed expensive. But there was no warmth, no softness. It was beauty meant to intimidate, not comfort. "This place…" I trailed off, my voice small. "You'll grow used to it." He led me down a long corridor, his stride unhurried, confident. "There are rules here, Elena. And if you intend to survive, you'll learn them quickly." My chest tightened. "Rules?" He stopped suddenly, turning to face me. His eyes locked onto mine with chilling precision. "Rule number one," he said softly, "You never lie to me. Ever. Do that, and our contract ends with your family destroyed. Do you understand?" his words were pressing ,and so I nodded, my lips trembling. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver racing down my spine. "And tomorrow, we'll discuss rule number two."