Chapter 4 Marry Me
2018 Words
Vesper woke to the steady pulse of a monitor.
For several seconds, she did not know where she was.
White ceiling.
Pale morning light.
A faint antiseptic smell.
Then the storage room returned in fragments—the dark, the feverish boy, the ladder sliding beneath her feet.
She turned her head too quickly.
Pain flared behind her temple.
The child lay asleep in a smaller bed beside hers, one hand resting on top of the blanket. A clear line ran from his wrist to an IV bag.
Vesper pushed herself upright.
“His fever?”
A man seated near the window looked up.
He was dressed in a charcoal suit that appeared untouched by the previous night. Broad shoulders, controlled posture, a face composed into such complete stillness that it felt more severe than anger.
His gaze moved over her as if measuring consciousness, injury, and intent all at once.
“It has come down.”
Vesper released a breath she had not realized she was holding.
She leaned toward the child and placed the back of her fingers against his forehead.
Warm, but no longer burning.
Only then did she notice the bandage near her own hairline and the ache spreading through her shoulder.
The man by the window continued watching her.
Vesper withdrew her hand.
“I’m sorry. I should have found another way to get him out.”
“You were locked in a room with no phone.”
His voice was low and precise.
“You got him through the only exit.”
Before Vesper could answer, the door opened.
A second man entered carrying two paper cups and a bag from the hospital café.
He wore an expensive coat over yesterday’s wrinkled shirt and looked as though he had spent the entire night arguing with everyone in the building.
His face was familiar.
Vesper stared at him.
He noticed.
“Well,” he said, “that expression usually means one of two things. Either you recognize me, or I look worse than I thought.”
“Maxwell Ashbourne.”
He gave a shallow bow. “Meridian View Media, disappointing younger brother, and temporary public enemy number one.”
Vesper’s attention shifted to the man near the window.
The resemblance between him and the sleeping child was unmistakable now that she knew where to look.
The same dark hair.
The same straight brows.
The same contained, unreadable expression, even in sleep.
Maxwell followed her gaze.
“My brother, Conrad Ashbourne.”
Vesper went still.
The head of Ashbourne Holdings.
One of the most influential corporate figures in Ravenport.
And the father of the boy she had found hiding behind liquor crates.
Her eyes dropped to the child again.
“Finn?”
Conrad gave a single nod.
“Finn Ashbourne.”
The name suited him better than every ridiculous nickname Vesper had privately used while trying to coax him out of the dark.
She looked at the IV line.
“How did he end up in the storage room?”
Maxwell’s expression tightened.
“He followed me farther into the club than I realized. We’re still reviewing the security footage.”
“And the woman who locked me in?”
“Identified,” Conrad said.
“Halcyon Club provided the relevant footage and access records. Your manager took your phone. A staff supervisor locked the door after receiving instructions from her.”
Vesper’s jaw set.
“Diana.”
Conrad did not ask who she was.
“I know.”
Of course he did.
A man like Conrad Ashbourne probably learned everything worth knowing before anyone else entered the room.
Vesper glanced toward the chair beside her bed. Her dress had been folded there, along with her clutch.
Her phone rested on top.
She reached for it.
The screen lit up with missed calls, messages, and the time.
Her stomach dropped.
“The casting.”
Maxwell looked toward Conrad. “She means the audition.”
Vesper pulled the IV sensor from her finger.
Conrad stood.
“You are not leaving yet.”
“I have an audition.”
“You have a concussion.”
“A mild one.”
“You have not spoken to the physician.”
“I’m awake, I can stand, and I know my own name.”
She swung her legs off the bed.
The room tilted.
Conrad reached her before her feet touched the floor.
One hand closed around her elbow.
Vesper stiffened.
He released her immediately.
The absence of contact came almost as quickly as the touch.
“Sit down,” he said.
It still sounded like an order.
But he had stepped back.
Vesper sat because the floor continued shifting, not because he had told her to.
Maxwell placed the paper bag on the table.
“The casting call doesn’t start for another hour.”
“It started at nine.”
“The lead auditions started at nine.”
Vesper looked at him.
Maxwell lifted both hands. “I own a media company. I know things.”
“I’m not auditioning for the lead.”
Conrad’s attention sharpened.
“What role?”
“Mara Vale.”
Maxwell’s brows rose.
“The antagonist?”
“The second female lead.”
“The one who begins as a decorated officer and ends up running half the court?”
Vesper looked at him more carefully. “You read the script?”
“I read summaries written by people who read scripts.”
Despite herself, she almost smiled.
Conrad remained focused on her.
“You intend to leave the hospital for this role.”
“Yes.”
“You were locked in a storage room because someone wanted you to miss it.”
“That makes it more important that I go.”
Something changed in his face.
Not approval.
Recognition, perhaps.
He glanced at Finn, then back at her.
“What do you want?”
Vesper frowned. “From the audition?”
“From me.”
She looked at Maxwell.
He took a long drink of coffee and stared at the ceiling.
Conrad continued.
“You saved my son. Name your compensation.”
“I don’t need compensation.”
“That was not the question.”
“Finn went for help after I fell. If he hadn’t, I might still be in that room. We helped each other.”
“He is five.”
“And brave.”
Conrad’s gaze moved to Finn.
For the first time, the severity in his expression softened.
Only slightly.
“He should never have been there.”
“No. He shouldn’t have.”
Maxwell cleared his throat. “I am aware.”
Vesper looked back at Conrad.
“I didn’t know who he was. I don’t want anything from your family.”
“We reviewed the footage. You did not approach him.”
“That should settle it.”
“It settles your intent.”
“Then pay the hospital bill and let me leave.”
Conrad studied her.
“You consider that sufficient.”
“I consider it practical.”
“Money is practical.”
“Exactly.”
“I am not offering money.”
Vesper stared at him.
“Then why ask what I want?”
“Because I intend to give you something of equal value.”
“I have no idea what your son’s life is worth to you.”
“Neither do I.”
His answer came without hesitation.
The room fell silent.
Vesper glanced toward Finn.
His small fingers had curled into the blanket.
She understood then that Conrad’s insistence was not about pride.
It was about a debt he could not calculate and therefore could not tolerate.
“All right,” she said. “Cover the treatment. Replace my phone if Diana damaged it. And make sure Halcyon Club preserves the security records in case Starcrest tries to deny what happened.”
Conrad nodded once.
“Done.”
“Good.”
“And marry me.”
Maxwell inhaled coffee and nearly choked.
Vesper stared at Conrad.
The monitor beside Finn continued beeping.
Nothing else in the room seemed to move.
“I’m sorry?”
“Marry me.”
His tone had not changed.
He might have been proposing an acquisition.
Maxwell set down his coffee very carefully.
“Conrad.”
“You said you wanted something practical.”
“I asked for my medical expenses.”
“You saved Finn. He trusts you.”
“That is not a reason to marry someone.”
“It is a reason to consider a stable arrangement.”
Vesper searched his face for mockery.
There was none.
Conrad stepped closer, though he stopped well outside her reach.
“You would retain financial independence. Your career would remain yours. A prenuptial agreement would define property, privacy, and custody boundaries. You would not be expected to abandon your work.”
Vesper’s disbelief sharpened into anger.
“You have prepared terms.”
“I prepare terms before making an offer.”
“An offer.”
“A marriage.”
“You met me last night.”
“I have sufficient information to know you placed Finn’s safety above your own.”
“That makes me a suitable emergency contact. Not a wife.”
“Finn does not respond to strangers.”
“I noticed.”
“He does not allow most people to touch him.”
Vesper looked at the sleeping child.
“That could be temporary.”
“It could.”
“He was frightened. He associated me with getting out of that room.”
“Possibly.”
“And you are willing to bring a woman you don’t know into his home because he held her sleeve?”
Conrad’s expression did not shift.
“I am willing to consider what Finn needs.”
“And what do I need?”
The question stopped him.
Vesper stood more carefully this time.
The dizziness had eased.
“You don’t know,” she said. “Because you didn’t ask.”
Conrad’s eyes remained on hers.
“What do you need?”
“A life that belongs to me.”
His answer did not come immediately.
Vesper picked up her phone and clutch.
“Five years ago, I let other people decide what my future should look like. I am not doing that again because a powerful man has written a better contract.”
“This is not coercion.”
“No. It’s an absurd proposal.”
Maxwell covered his mouth, badly disguising a laugh.
Conrad ignored him.
“You are refusing.”
“Yes.”
“Because of Finn?”
“Finn is the only reason I’m still standing here explaining.”
Something almost like amusement flickered in Conrad’s eyes.
It disappeared too quickly for her to be certain.
Vesper looked at the time again.
“I have to go.”
Conrad did not block her.
“Leave Finn a note.”
She paused.
“He will wake and look for you.”
The quiet certainty in his voice stripped away her irritation.
Vesper looked at the child.
Finn had trusted her in darkness.
He had gone for help when she asked.
He had come back.
“Paper?”
Maxwell immediately opened a drawer and found a hospital notepad and pen.
Vesper sat beside Finn’s bed.
She wrote slowly.
Finn,
I’m safe. Thank you for finding help.
You were very brave.
I had to leave for something important, but I did not disappear without saying goodbye.
—Vesper
She drew a small star beneath her name.
When she placed the note on the bedside table, Finn shifted.
His fingers caught the edge of her sleeve.
Vesper froze.
His eyes remained closed.
Carefully, she loosened his grip and tucked his hand beneath the blanket.
“I hope his fever stays down.”
Conrad looked at the note.
“So do I.”
Vesper changed into her dress, signed the discharge form after a hurried examination, and left the hospital before anyone could produce another marriage contract.
Outside the hospital, the audition clock kept moving. If she failed to reach it, Diana’s locked door would still have won.
- Writer
