The words left Ava's lips before her brain could fully process the gravity of the situation. "I'll marry you."
As soon as the sentence hung in the cold air of the suite, a wave of nausea hit her. She had just sold her soul. She looked at Liam, who stood like a dark statue in the dim light, and realized she had made a pact with the devil himself. But then, the image of her mother flickered in her mind—the pale skin, the struggling breath, and the pile of unpaid bills that kept her awake at night. For her mother's life, Ava would walk through the gates of hell, and right now, Liam Moretti was those gates.
Liam's grip on her shoulders didn't loosen. His fingers dug into her skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to mark his territory. He searched her eyes with a predatory intensity, looking for any sign of a lie or a hidden agenda. Seeing only raw, desperate resolve, his lips curled into a curt, sharp nod.
"Smart girl," he whispered. His voice was like velvet over gravel—smooth but dangerous. "You just made the best and worst decision of your life, Ava Brooks."
The banging on the mahogany door became deafening. "Moretti! Open this door or we kick it down!" the voices outside roared. Ava flinched, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She felt small, fragile, and utterly out of place.
Liam didn't look worried. In fact, he looked bored. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy platinum ring. The diamond in the center was so large it looked like a piece of frozen starlight, refracting the amber light of the room. He grabbed Ava's left hand. Her fingers were trembling violently, cold from the rain and the sheer terror of what was happening. As he slid the cold metal onto her finger, she felt a sudden chill. The ring was too big, sliding loosely on her thin finger, but it felt like a shackle that would pull her straight through the marble floor.
"Listen to me carefully," Liam commanded, his face inches from hers. "From this second onwards, you are not a waitress. You are a queen. My queen. You will not speak. You will not cry. You will simply stay behind me and let the world believe you are mine."
He didn't wait for a response. He walked to the door and unlocked it with a sharp click. The door swung open, and the world exploded in light and noise.
Three large men in custom suits burst in, followed by a swarm of paparazzi who had somehow managed to sneak into the VIP floor. The blinding flashes of a dozen cameras turned the dim room into a chaotic strobe light. Ava gasped, closing her eyes against the glare, but Liam's arm was suddenly there—possessive and firm—wrapping around her waist. He pulled her so close she could feel the steady, thudding beat of his heart. It was calm—unnervingly calm—as if he did this every day.
"Mr. Moretti! Explain the blood on your face! Were you attacked?" a reporter yelled. "And who is the girl? Is she a witness or a scandal?"
Liam didn't flinch. He stood tall, his presence filling the entire hallway. "Gentlemen," he spoke, his voice booming with a cold authority that instantly silenced the room. "You want a story? Here it is. I was attacked tonight by cowards who fear the Moretti name. My security will handle them. But more importantly..."
He paused, looking down at Ava with a fake, tender smile that made her skin crawl. It was a perfect performance. "I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Ava. We've been keeping our engagement private to protect her from this exact madness. But after tonight, I decided she's been in the shadows for too long."
The room erupted. The questions became a roar. Ava lowered her head, hiding her face against his expensive silk shirt. It smelled of expensive sandalwood, rain, and raw power. She felt like an impostor, a common girl playing a dangerous game with the King of New York.
As they were ushered toward the private elevator by a wall of security, Ava looked at the giant diamond on her finger. It felt like a ticking time bomb. Inside the elevator, as the doors slid shut, the silence was deafening.
"They're going to find out, Liam," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't do this. I don't know how to be... this."
Liam looked at her through the mirrored walls of the elevator. His eyes were icy again, the fake tenderness gone. "You will learn. My staff will spend the next forty-eight hours turning you into a Moretti. You wanted the ten million, didn't you? This is the work. Do not let me down, Ava. Because if you trip, the wolves outside will tear you apart, and I won't be there to pick up the pieces."
The elevator reached the ground floor. A black Rolls Royce was waiting. As the doors opened, Ava took a deep breath. Her old life was over. The waitress was dead; the Ice King's bride had been born in the storm.
As the heavy doors of the Rolls Royce closed with a soft, expensive thud, the chaotic noise of the paparazzi was instantly cut off. The silence inside the car was even more terrifying than the screams outside.
The leather seats were cool against Ava's skin, and the scent of the car—rich, new, and intimidating—reminded her that she was now a bird in a very gilded cage.
Liam sat as far away from her as possible, his long legs crossed, staring out at the rain-streaked window. The dim blue ambient light of the car highlighted the sharp, cruel angles of his face. He looked every bit the 'Ice King' now, cold and unreachable.
"You're shaking," he observed, without even looking at her.
Ava tucked her hands under her thighs to hide the tremors. "I just... I've never been in a car like this. Or a situation like this. My mother is waiting for her medicine, Liam. When will you send the money?"
Liam finally turned his head. His gaze was heavy, weighing her worth. "My assistant, Marcus, has already cleared your mother's outstanding bills. By tomorrow morning, she will be moved to a private suite at the Memorial Hospital. The best specialists in the country are being briefed as we speak."
A sob escaped Ava's throat, half-relief and half-terror. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Liam's voice dropped to a whisper that sent chills down her spine.
"You haven't seen the price you have to pay. Starting tomorrow, you will undergo a rigorous transformation. Etiquette, history, fashion, and most importantly—the art of lying. You will be scrutinized by the board, by my rivals, and by my family. Especially my grandmother. If she smells the scent of the 'Emerald Club' on you, we are both finished."
Ava looked at the ring on her finger. It felt like a lead weight. "Why does it have to be a lie? Why can't you just tell them you found someone you liked?"
Liam let out a short, dark laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Because in my world, 'liking someone' is a weakness. My enemies would use you to destroy me. But a sudden, passionate engagement to a mysterious woman? That creates a shield of unpredictability. It keeps them guessing."
He leaned in closer, his shadow falling over her. "For the next six months, Ava Brooks, you are the most important project of my life. I don't care if you're tired, I don't care if you're scared. You will play your part, or I will make sure you end up back in that gutter with nothing but the hospital bills I just paid."
Ava swallowed hard, the taste of fear bitter in her mouth. She looked out the window as the car sped through the dark streets of Manhattan. She was no longer just a waitress struggling to survive. She was a pawn in a billionaire's war. And as the massive iron gates of the Moretti estate appeared in the distance, she realized that the storm outside was nothing compared to the one she had just invited into her life.