Her mother would die without the surgery. The hospital in Ikoyi had said it plain: pay in 7 days or they discharge her to die at home. Aria had called every bank, every relative, every “friend” She used to know. Nothing.And now this man sat across from her. The man she’d loved at 19. The man who disappeared back then. Now he was back. Richer. Colder. Offering her a deal.“You read it?” Damian’s voice was low. Controlled. The kind of voice that closed million -naira deals and left women breathless.“Yes.” Her throat was dry. She hated how small her voice sounded in his office. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Lagos skyline behind him. Power in every inch of the room. “Six months. I live in your penthouse. I attend events as your… girlfriend. I sign an NDA. No leaks. No questions.”“And in return,” he finished, leaning back in his chair. His suit jacket strained across his shoulders. He’d filled out since she last saw him. Success did that to a man. “I pay the 4million naira today. Plus 500 thousands monthly allowance. Plus a new car if you behave.”Her mother would die without that surgery. Aria knew it. Damian knew it too. That’s why his eyes didn’t blink when he said the number. He knew he had her.No touching,” she whispered, because she had to try. Because some part of her still remembered being 19 and thinking love meant soft hands and gentle words. “No—”His eyes cut her off. Dark brown. Almost black. Intense enough to pin her to the chair. “Don’t lie to yourself, Aria. You need me. I need a date who won’t ask why I don’t marry. We both get what we want.”He pushed the pen closer across the glass. It slid with a soft sound that felt final.Aria’s hand shook when she picked it up. Her fingers brushed his for half a second. Heat shot up her arm. She jerked back like she’d been burned._Stupid._ Her heart was pounding like she was 19 again, sneaking into his car after lectures. But she wasn’t 19 anymore. She was 24, broke, and desperate.