THE MAN WHO BOUGHT MY HATRED

2:15am Drizzles of the rain slaps my face like it’s mad at me, like the rest of the world, and every other thing around me, I shove the diner’s metal door open with my shoulder. The screeching sound loud enough to wake half the block. Cold air dragging out my lungs. My apron is still tied around my waist and neck, soaked with grease and coffee. The only motivation is twenty-three dollars in tips for tonight, and a creepy phone number written on a napkin. The man who looked like he was racing against life itself had shoved it into my palms a few hours ago. I fish for my keys, I need to be sure it's safe, Headlights cut through the dark, blinking enough to announce its presence amidst the occasional lightning. A black Maybach sits in the alley like it owns the space. Engine off, wipers off, just waiting. The back door opens by itself. I should keep walking. My sneakers squelch, one side had gone flatter than the other. I stop. A man steps out. Sharp cheekbones, deep brown eyes that hold no emotion, tall, black coat dripping, shoes that cost more than my rent for a year. I know that face. Everyone does. Lucien Voss. The guy who buys companies just to fire everyone, then sells the bones. The guy who punched a reporter last month and never even got charged. The Devil in a suit, many had tagged him that. I had come to believe that too. He doesn’t speak. Just looks at me like he’s counting my ribs. I flip him the bird with both frozen hands. “Hey, Mr. What am I doing out here by this time?” He moves closer. Rain slides off his hair and down his sharp cheekbones, I thought he'd bother about the rain, but he didn't. “Five million dollars,” he says. Voice low, calm, like he’s ordering coffee. I laugh. It comes out ragged and wet. “For what, my left lung?” “To marry me. One year.” Adam's apple throbbed, I guess he swallowed. My head tilts. My ears ring. I wipe rain and snot off my face, shivering like a drenched bird. “You on drugs?” He doesn’t blink. “Your brother, Eli Harper . Only nine years old. B-cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Relapsed twice. The only trial left starts in twenty-seven days. Costs four million eight hundred and twelve thousand dollars. Insurance already denied.” he raises his head, his dark coffee eyes darting straight into my eyes. My knees buckle. I catch the dumpster to stay up. He knows Eli’s name. He knows the exact dollar amount, How's it possible? He’s been inside our lives. “Miss Harper, I'm afraid we might lose him if we do not act fast… He's got not more than two months left, his condition is deteriorating as the day goes by… We need to carry out the trial as soon as possible, or we might not stand a chance.” The doctor's exact words from a few weeks back had been embedded in my brain. I had moved to the account department to get the cost of the trial, I literally turned white in the seat when the middle-aged man with grey hairs tilted his glasses a bit and handed me the white paper. Tears spilled freely knowing fully well I had nowhere to get such an amount from. I glugged myself up, scraped a hand over my runny nose and dashed out the door, crumpling the paper in my hand. Here I stood, watching this man, the city's most feared devil, read out my situation like it was written on his palm. I step forward, fists balled, heart thumping. “Have you been trailing—” “Clock’s running, Miss Harper , Eli doesn't have much time for your pride.” He pulls a single sheet of paper from inside his coat. Rain beads on it but doesn’t soak through,special paper, of course. One page. Black ink. My name already typed at the bottom. I read it twice. Words swim. “And what's this?” Flipping the paper before him, eyes blazing. “The Marriage contract. One calendar year. Five million wired once you sign. Divorce automatic on day 366. No alimony, no contact after.” he spells the words out, lips turning white. I laugh again, louder, crazier. “You could buy a hundred girls prettier and quieter than me, why me?” “I am Lucien Voss, I go for what I want… I don’t want prettier or quieter.” His eyes flick over my wet hair, my torn jeans, the scar on my jaw from slipping on the wet floor of the bar. “I want you.” My stomach flips. Hate and something worse. The nerve of him! I've always known that's how these rich lots behave, thinking they could buy their way through everything. I spit at his shoes. It lands on Italian leather. He doesn’t move, his gaze fixed on me, same dark ruthless eyes. “Eli has six weeks without the trial,” he says. “Maybe eight if he’s lucky, you need to make a decision now.” The world narrows to that number. My head rang, replaying the Doctor's exact words to me earlier today Six freaking weeks. I saw Eli’s bald head on the pillow this morning, the way he tried to smile so I wouldn’t cry, tugging his fingers around mine, his eyes were pale, and his skin? White. My hand shakes when I take the pen. Gold. Heavy. Cold. I press it to the paper so hard the tip almost tears through. Lucien Voss watches every stroke of my name like he’s memorizing it. I shove the contract back at him. “Happy now? you pompous show-off” He folds the page once, tucks it inside his coat like it’s a love letter, his silence rumbles my stomach even more. “Car leaves in ten seconds. Get in or stay here and get swollen by the cold by morning?” I hated his tone even more, who does he think he is? Savior? I yank the door open myself. The inside smells like leather and money and something cold I can’t name. I slide across the seat. My wet apron leaves a dirty smear. He climbs in after me. Door shuts with a soft, expensive thunk. The car pulls away before I find the seatbelt. Streetlights smear across the tinted windows. I catch my reflection; wild eyes, smudged lipstick, rain in my lashes. Lucien sits beside me, close enough that his coat brushes my arm, his cologne a pleasant smell I can't define, but I hate his guts. The guts of these rich Men. He doesn’t touch me. Just stares straight ahead, like he practically owns the world. “Where are we going?” My voice breaks, cold and shivering “Home,” he says. I laugh one more time, bitter. “I don't have one of those anymore.” He turns his head. Dark coffee eyes lock on mine. “You do now.” The city blurs behind us. My heart thumped with each minute. The only thing louder than my heart was the silence. I wrap my arms around myself to stop shaking. Five million dollars. One miserable year. One monster in a ten-thousand-dollar coat. I close my eyes and see Eli’s smile. I sold my soul in an alley at 2:14 a.m for that smile. Earlier today tears flowed freely down my cheeks when the thought of losing him flashed through my mind, the only thing in my account is the twenty-three-dollar tip for tonight, I wondered how I was supposed to raise the sum for his trial, but it has come with the weirdest offer. And the devil didn’t even haggle, he just bought my freedom like some stock at the local market. The car speeds up. I shut my eyes. I still do not know how I'm going to survive the next one year, breathing in the same space with this rude, pompous show-off.