His World, Her Cage

The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor buzzed overhead, cold and heartless, the silence enough to tear the soul apart, there was only noise… from the machines. Much like the news Elena Dawson had just received. Her fingers trembled around the crumpled estimate letter, the ink smudged by her tears. $87,400. That’s how much her younger brother’s surgery would cost. Not including the medication. Not including the aftercare. Just the surgery to save his life. It was the money that could buy her brother another chance at life. Elena sat hunched on the cold hospital bench, her black hair falling messily around her pale face. Her usually soft features were drawn tight with exhaustion and fear. Her glassy brown eyes, rimmed with dark circles, stared blankly at the ICU door, eyes that had cried too much, yet refused to give up. Dressed in a faded coat and jeans, she looked disheveled, fragile, but there was a quiet strength in her. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and yet she stayed because her little brother was fighting for his life, and she had no one else but him. She blinked hard, her throat burning as she stared through the glass panel into the ICU room. There lay her twelve-year-old brother, Noah, hooked to machines, looking smaller than ever. Pale. Still. Quiet. Dying. She shut her glassy brown eyes, and a single tear slipped down, falling onto the paper below, that left a mark on the paper below. Perhaps it wasn’t a tear; it was helplessness dripping from her eyes. “How the hell am I supposed to come up with that kind of money?” "I can’t watch my brother die like this, he's the only support I have in this life," she whispered to herself, her voice raw. She had nothing. Not after their father's sudden death and the debts he left behind. Their house had been sold to cover hospital bills. Her job as a waitress barely paid enough to cover rent. And their mother... she was already gone. Elena had run out of options. Fast. Her legs gave way as she sank onto a hard plastic chair, burying her face in her hands. She wasn’t a crier. She didn’t break down. Not when she worked double shifts for weeks. Not when their lights were cut off. But this was too much. "Miss Dawson?" She lifted her head, startled. A man in a sharp black suit stood in front of her, holding a sleek leather briefcase. He was tall, composed, and out of place in the worn-down hospital. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice hoarse. He was wearing a black cap that cast a shadow over his face. "What you need… It's possible I might be able to provide it. I represent Mr. "Dominic Blackwood,” he said calmly. “He would like to offer you a business proposal.” Elena frowned, unsure if she was hallucinating from exhaustion. Her dazed mind struggled to function. “Dominic... Blackwood?” she repeated. Everyone in New York knew the name. Billionaire. CEO of Blackwood Enterprises. Brutal negotiator. Cold as ice. Richer than God. The man offered a thin smile and handed her a cream-coloured card with embossed letters: Dominic Blackwood, Chairman, Blackwood Enterprises. “There must be a mistake,” she said, voice tight. “Why would a man like him be interested in me?” She couldn’t understand whether it was just a joke or the truth. The man didn’t blink. “Because you have something he needs.” She was still looking at the card when the sound of the elevator startled her. She lifted her head and the man had vanished, out of sight. She stood up and tried searching here and there for the man, but she couldn’t find him; he was nowhere to be seen. Her body was failing her; her heart was sinking. She wanted to run away from it all, but the harsh truth remained that her brother was fighting a battle between life and death. Elena left the hospital in a daze, the cold night air hitting her face but doing nothing to clear the storm inside her mind. Her steps were slow and uneven as she made her way back to the tiny, cramped room she called home, a space so small it barely held her dreams, let alone her fears. She sank onto the worn-out chair by the window, the city lights outside blurring into streaks through her tired eyes. Was any of this real? The crushing hospital bills, the impossible surgery costs, the sudden offer from a man like Dominic Blackwood? It all felt like a cruel nightmare she wanted to wake from, yet couldn’t. She turned towards the window and gazed at the bright world outside, where there was only darkness within her. Her heart pounded a mix of hope and terror squeezing her chest. What if it was a trap? What if she lost everything, even the last shred of dignity she had left? Hours slipped by, or maybe minutes time had lost meaning. Her mind replayed every word the suited man had said, the name Blackwood echoing like a summons she couldn’t ignore. When dawn crept through the cracked blinds, Elena woke with a jolt, her decision suddenly crystal clear. She would go. To Blackwood Enterprises. No matter how frightening, how impossible it seemed, she had to try. For Noah. For her family. For the sliver of hope still alive inside her. The elevator doors opened with a low chime, revealing the intimidating height of the Blackwood Tower’s top floor. Elena stepped out hesitantly, the sound of her thrift store heels echoing off the marble. She hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. The business card burned in her pocket all night until desperation won. She had to know what kind of “proposal” a billionaire had for a girl like her. A receptionist in designer black led her down a quiet hallway and into a large glass-walled office. The city skyline glittered behind the massive mahogany desk. And there he sat. Dominic Blackwood. He didn’t look up at first, just continued reading some documents, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. His presence filled the room like a thunderstorm about to break. His sharp jawline and high cheekbones gave him a sculpted, almost ruthless beauty, jawline, impeccably tailored suit, and hair dark as sin and just as dangerous. When he finally looked up, Elena’s breath caught. For a moment, her heart forgot to beat. His eyes were the colour of a storm cold steel, unreadable, piercing. Despite herself, she was staring into his eyes. “Elena Dawson,” he said, voice low and authoritative. “Sit.” It wasn’t a suggestion. She obeyed, stiffly. “What is this about?” Dominic steepled his fingers, and then she leaned toward the table. “I need a wife. You need money. Let’s not pretend either of us is here for anything else.” Elena started, stunned. “A… wife?” He slid a document across the table. “A one-year contractual marriage. You play the role of Mrs Blackwood in public. You follow a few conditions. In return, I’ll cover your brother’s treatment and give you a settlement at the end.” She didn’t touch the paper. “This is insane, do you really think you can buy me as your wife with money?" she whispered. He rested his broad shoulders against the chair. "So is letting your brother die because of pride,” he replied smoothly. “I don’t have time for sentimentality. I need a bride within the week to meet the conditions in my grandfather’s will. You’re unknown, quiet, and desperate. It’s perfect.” The coldness in his voice made her skin prickle. “Why not someone from your world?” she asked. “A model. An actress. Someone who belongs.” His jaw tightened. “Because I don’t want someone who thinks this is a real marriage. I want someone who’ll sign the paper and stay out of my way.” Elena’s heart thudded painfully. Her fingers curled into fists. Every instinct screamed that this was dangerous. Wrong. Yet, the image of Noah so still, so pale flashed before her eyes. “What’s the catch?” she asked slowly. “No emotional involvement. No public scandals. And no touching unless you agree.” His gaze locked onto hers. “I don’t want love. Just your cooperation.” “And after a year?” “You walk away. Richer. Free. Anonymous again.” She stared at the contract, the words blurring. This was madness. But the price of saying no… was Noah’s life. “I need time to think,” she said quietly. “You have 24 hours.” That night, Elena stood at Noah’s bedside and listened to the beeping of the heart monitor. The nurse told her quietly that without the surgery, he wouldn’t make it through the month. Elena sank to her knees by the bed. “I’m sorry, Noah,” she choked out, brushing his fingers. “I never wanted this for you. Or me.” Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Dominic Blackwood: The clock’s ticking. Your choice, Elena. Her vision blurred. Her heart ached. But she already knew the answer. The next morning, she walked into Blackwood Tower again, contract in hand, signed in blue ink. Dominic didn’t ask why. He just glanced at the document, nodded once, and stood. “We’ll announce the marriage tomorrow. The wedding is in two days.” “Two days?” she gasped. “I don’t need a fantasy. Just a signature.” He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Elena. This is business. You give me what I want and in return, I save your brother’s life.” She swallowed hard, lifting her chin. “Then let’s get this over with, Mr. Blackwood.” For the first time, something flickered in his eyes approval, or maybe amusement. It disappeared too quickly to catch. As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her. “Welcome to the game, Mrs. Blackwood.”