Chapter 2
1240 Words
Emma sat in her cramped apartment, the dim glow of her desk lamp illuminating the stacks of unpaid bills scattered across the table. The numbers blurred together as she rubbed her temples. Her mother’s voice from the earlier call echoed in her mind, a relentless reminder of the impossible weight she carried.
She glanced at the clock. Midnight. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept properly in days, but her focus remained fixed on finding a solution.
The problem was, there wasn’t one.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. She frowned at the unknown number but answered anyway.
“Emma Blake,” she said wearily.
“Ms. Blake,” came a familiar, smooth voice.
Her stomach dropped. “How did you get my number, Mr. Astor?”
“I have my ways,” Liam replied, his tone infuriatingly casual. “I assume you’ve had time to think about my offer.”
Emma’s grip tightened on the phone. “I don’t need time. The answer is no.”
There was a pause. Then, “Do you always make decisions this recklessly, or is it just with me?”
“I don’t make deals with manipulative billionaires,” she shot back.
“Then let me rephrase,” Liam said, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “Do you always let your pride get in the way of saving the people you care about?”
Emma froze, the words slicing through her defenses. “That’s low, even for you.”
“Low,” Liam repeated with a humorless laugh. “Let me explain something, Ms. Blake. This isn’t about morality. It’s about survival. You can hate me all you want, but in the end, I’m your best option.”
Emma clenched her jaw. “I don’t need your help.”
“Really?” Liam said, and she could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Because according to my sources, the diner will default on its loans in thirteen days. That’s less time than it’ll take for your father’s next round of hospital bills to arrive.”
Her chest tightened, anger flaring alongside helplessness. “You think throwing money around solves everything?”
“No,” Liam said evenly. “But it solves enough.”
Emma gritted her teeth. “Why me? You could have anyone play your little game. Why drag me into this?”
“Because you’re convincing,” he said bluntly. “You’re smart, independent, and, most importantly, you don’t want to be here. That makes you different from the usual gold diggers.”
Emma felt a pang of insult but shoved it aside. “So you think I’ll just sell myself to you?”
“I think,” Liam said, his voice cold, “that you’ll do whatever it takes to save your family. You have until tomorrow to give me an answer.”
Before she could respond, the line went dead.
The next morning, Emma sat across from her mother in the small kitchen of their family home. The air smelled faintly of burnt coffee, and the silence between them was suffocating.
Her father’s laughter drifted in from the living room, where he was watching an old sitcom. The sound, once comforting, now felt like a cruel reminder of how fragile he was.
“How bad is it?” her mother asked, breaking the silence.
Emma hesitated, staring at her hands. “It’s… manageable,” she lied.
Her mother’s face tightened. “Emma, I’m not stupid. The bank calls every day now. They’re saying we might lose the diner. And your father—”
Emma reached across the table, gripping her mother’s hand. “Mom, stop. I’ll handle it.”
Tears welled in her mother’s eyes. “How, Emma? You’re working yourself to death already. I can’t watch you sacrifice everything for us.”
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. “I have options.”
Her mother frowned. “What kind of options?”
Emma hesitated, the memory of Liam’s voice haunting her. “Just… options.”
Before her mother could press further, the sound of a knock at the door startled them.
“I’ll get it,” Emma said quickly, eager for the distraction.
When she opened the door, she froze. Standing on the porch was a sharply dressed man holding a sleek black envelope.
“Miss Blake,” the man said, his tone polite but firm. “Mr. Astor asked me to deliver this to you.”
Emma’s heart sank as she took the envelope. She didn’t need to open it to know it was from Liam.
“Have a good day,” the man said before walking away.
Emma closed the door and tore the envelope open, her hands trembling. Inside was a single piece of paper with Liam’s neat, bold handwriting:
Your pride won’t save them. Call me.
She crumpled the paper in her fist, her anger boiling over.
That evening, Emma stormed into Liam’s office at Astor Enterprises, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floor.
His assistant barely had time to stammer out a greeting before Emma pushed through the doors, finding Liam seated at his massive desk.
“Ah,” he said, looking up with a calm smile. “I was expecting you.”
Emma slammed the crumpled note onto his desk. “Do you enjoy playing god, or is it just a hobby?”
Liam leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “I take it you’ve reconsidered.”
“I came here to tell you to stay out of my life,” Emma snapped.
Liam stood, his expression turning serious. “Do you think this is a game to me? Do you think I enjoy wasting my time on people who can’t see the bigger picture?”
Emma glared at him. “You don’t care about the bigger picture. You just want control.”
Liam stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’re right. I don’t care. But I’m offering you a lifeline, and you’re too stubborn to take it.”
Emma’s voice wavered, despite her best efforts to stay strong. “Why me, Liam? Why not someone else?”
“Because someone else wouldn’t fight me like this,” Liam said, his tone softening. “And because someone else wouldn’t make it believable.”
Emma stared at him, her heart pounding. She hated him—hated how calm he was, how logical he made it all sound. But beneath her anger was something more dangerous: the faintest glimmer of temptation.
“What happens if I say yes?” she asked quietly.
Liam’s gaze locked onto hers. “Your family gets a clean slate. No debts, no foreclosure. And you play the role of my fiancée for one year. That’s it.”
Emma’s hands curled into fists. “And if I say no?”
Liam didn’t blink. “Then you watch everything fall apart.”
The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. Emma felt like the walls were closing in, the weight of her decision crushing her.
Finally, Liam spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for your soul, Emma. Just a deal.”
Cliffhanger Ending
Emma’s voice trembled as she replied, “I’ll think about it.”
But as she turned to leave, Liam’s parting words stopped her in her tracks.
“Don’t take too long,” he said. “Because once the clock runs out, I’ll stop playing nice.”
- Writer
