Chapter 3

Seven a.m. I walked out of the basement.

No sleep. A dull cramp low in my gut. I dug out my one good blazer and pressed concealer over the bruises under my eyes.

Look put-together. Sarah's exact words.

Even if I was walking into a disaster, I wasn't going to show up looking like I had nothing left.

The whole cab ride to the Peninsula, one name kept circling in my head: Alexander Locke.

Sarah hadn't sugarcoated it. Terrible temper. Nobody lasts a month under him.

Rich, cold-blooded, never makes a losing deal. That was everything I had on the man.

Eight o'clock sharp. I stood in front of the penthouse double doors, took one slow breath, shoved everything about Bradley into a box I didn't plan to open, and knocked.

"Come in." Low. Unhurried.

I pushed the door open.

A man stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows — black dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tall and straight-backed. He turned around.

The moment I met those cold, sharp eyes, my feet stopped dead.

I knew him.

Last month, closing shift at a high-end club. He'd been in the VIP section all night, watching me.

Eventually he'd called me over, looked down at me with that same unhurried calm, and said: "Be my woman. I'll give you a year's salary.“

I'd turned him down flat. Because back then, I was still hopelessly in love with Bradley.

Looking back now — what a joke.

Alexander had clearly recognized me too. His gaze swept over me once. "You. Looks like Sarah finally backed you into a corner."

I skipped the pleasantries. "What's the job?"

A short, quiet laugh. "You actually think I need a personal assistant?"

I blinked as he crossed to the desk and picked up a folder.

"Leo Harper. Twenty years old. Congenital heart disease." His voice was even, but every word landed like a blow. "Surgery tomorrow, or his condition deteriorates. Forty-eight thousand total. Hospital wants twenty up front."

Something cold moved through me. "You investigated me?"

"Of course." Matter-of-fact. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I don't make deals with people I know nothing about."

I balled my hands into fists. "Then what do you want from me?"

Alexander looked up. "You."

Silence.

I took a half-step back. He added, same flat tone: "More precisely — your identity. Be my fiancée."

"What?"

"My family's been pushing hard." He leaned against the desk, expression unreadable. "They want me engaged. I need someone who'll get them off my back."

"Why me?"

"Smart. Stubborn. Clear about your limits." His eyes moved over me the way someone appraises an object.

"And you're out of options, badly in need of money. The man who wouldn't front you twenty thousand dollars clearly has no hold on you."

That landed like a slap. Precise. Right on the wound.

I bit my lip. "Six months?"

"Six months."

"You won't touch me?"

One eyebrow lifted slightly. "Relax. I have no interest in forcing anyone. What I need is a presentable prop who follows instructions — not a clever problem I have to manage."

"How much?"

"It's not for you." He corrected me. "It goes to Leo's surgery."

He slid a check across the desk, and my breath caught.

The amount: fifty thousand dollars.

"Sign the contract and the money transfers immediately."

I reached out and picked up the document. The paper trembled faintly in my hands.

Six months. Engaged couple. Public appearances in line with his image. Beyond that, no interference either way.

The pen hovered over the signature line. I hesitated for exactly one second — then pressed down and signed my name.

If selling my soul to the devil was what it took for Leo, so be it.

Alexander took the contract back.

A second later, he was on the phone. "Transfer the funds to the hospital."

My head snapped up. "Right now?"

"I told you." He looked at me. "Deal's done, money moves."

No test. No stringing me along. No asking me to give something first.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

A text from the hospital: Leo's surgical deposit had been paid in full.

I stared at that message until my vision blurred. My throat was too tight to form a single word.

Alexander picked up his jacket. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"The hospital."

I hesitated. "You're coming too?"

"Your brother is having surgery." He gave me a brief, cool look. "My fiancée can't even be there for her own family. How would that look."

He didn't give me a moment to breathe.

It wasn't until we arrived at the hospital that I understood exactly how this man operated.

No waiting in line. Leo had already been moved into a top-tier pre-op room.

The doctor told me everything had been settled and that the best cardiac surgical team in the hospital was already standing by.

I stood in the doorway, eyes finally stinging. "Thank you."

Alexander stood beside me, his expression perfectly still. "Don't thank me. It's in the contract."

Then, from behind me, a familiar voice.

"Molly?"

My whole body went rigid.

Bradley walked up quickly, surprise written all over his face. "What are you doing here?"

His gaze landed on Alexander. His brow furrowed immediately, something guarded moving into his eyes. "Who is he?"

I didn't answer.

Alexander glanced at Bradley, then turned to look at me. "You know him?"

I raised my eyes and looked at Bradley with perfect calm.

"No." I met his gaze. "I don't."