THE BILLIONAIRE'S GAMBLE

The hospital called me at 11:47 p.m. I almost didn't answer. I'd been staring at my phone for the last twenty minutes, trying to figure out how I was going to pay the electricity bill before they disconnected us again. Then my phone rang. "Is this Miss Maya Carter?" The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm. "Yes." "I'm calling from St. Mary's Hospital. Your brother's outstanding balance is still unpaid." My stomach dropped. "I know. I'm working on it." "Miss Carter, you've been saying that for two weeks." I closed my eyes. "I'll pay it." "When?" I didn't have an answer. The woman sighed. "If the balance isn't settled by tomorrow afternoon, we'll have to suspend his treatment." My fingers tightened around the phone. "Please don't do that." "I'm sorry." The call ended. I stared at the screen. For a few seconds, I couldn't move. Then I laughed. Not because anything was funny. Sometimes you laugh when you're too tired to cry. I had exactly forty-three dollars in my bank account. My brother needed almost twelve thousand. And somehow, I was supposed to find that money by tomorrow. "Perfect," I whispered. My life had officially become a joke. I threw my phone onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. Three months ago, I had a job. A decent one, too. Then the company downsized. I was one of the first people they let go. Since then, I'd been taking small jobs wherever I could find them. Cleaning apartments. Serving at restaurants. Running errands. Anything that paid. I'd stopped buying things for myself. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone out with friends. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd slept without calculating money in my head. But none of that mattered. Ethan mattered. My little brother was the only family I had left. I wasn't going to lose him because I couldn't afford a hospital bill. I picked up my phone again. There was one new message. UNKNOWN NUMBER: “I may have something for you.” I frowned. I hadn't given my number to anyone that day. Before I could reply, another message appeared. “Tomorrow. Blackwood Foundation Gala. 8 p.m.” Then an address. I stared at it. The Blackwood Foundation. Even I'd heard of them. Everyone had. The Blackwoods owned hotels, banks, technology companies, luxury properties... Basically half the things rich people liked to pretend they hadn't bought. And at the center of it all was Adrian Blackwood. Twenty-nine. Billionaire. CEO. And, according to every article I'd ever read about him, completely ruthless. I deleted the message. I had no business going anywhere near people like that. My phone buzzed again. UNKNOWN NUMBER: “Come alone. You won't regret it.” I hesitated. Then I thought about Ethan lying in that hospital bed. I saved the address. Maybe desperation had finally made me stupid. Or maybe it was about to save my brother. The next evening, I stood outside the Blackwood Foundation's headquarters, wondering what on earth I was doing. Cars worth more than every house on my street were parked along the entrance. Women stepped out wearing dresses that probably cost more than my yearly income. Men wore suits that looked painfully expensive. I looked down at my own black dress. It was simple. Nothing special. I'd borrowed it from my friend, Nina. "Smile," Nina had told me before I left. I had tried. I probably looked constipated. I walked inside. The receptionist checked my name. "Maya Carter?" "Yes." She looked at her screen. Then she looked at me. "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you." My heart skipped. "Mr. Blackwood?" She nodded. "Private elevator. Twenty-seventh floor." I should've turned around. Instead, I followed her. The elevator doors opened. A man was standing inside. Tall. Dark-haired. Black suit. No tie. His expression was unreadable. He looked at me for exactly three seconds. Then he said, "You're late." I blinked. "I'm sorry?" He stepped aside. "Get in." I stared at him. "Who are you?" One eyebrow lifted. "Adrian Blackwood." Oh. Oh, no. I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. Neither of us spoke. The silence was unbearable. I finally looked at him. He was staring straight ahead. "You sent the message?" "Yes." "Why?" He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pressed the button for the top floor. "I need something from you." I almost laughed. "Then you probably have the wrong person." "I don't." The elevator continued upward. "What do you need?" He finally looked at me. His eyes were cold. Not angry. Just... controlled. Like nothing in the world could surprise him. "I need a woman." I stared. "Excuse me?" "A woman who can play a role." My eyebrows shot up. "What kind of role?" "My girlfriend." I actually laughed this time. He didn't. The doors opened. Adrian walked out. I stayed where I was. "Wait." He stopped. I stepped out. "Are you serious?" "Completely." "You invited me to a gala because you need a fake girlfriend?" "For six months." I stared at him. He looked completely normal. That was the scary part. "Why me?" He studied me for a moment. "Because you don't want me." I frowned. "What?" "Every woman in that ballroom wants something from me." He stepped closer. "You looked at me like I was just another man." "I don't know you." "Exactly." I folded my arms. "Why would I agree to this?" "Because I know about your brother." My heart stopped. "What did you just say?" Adrian's expression didn't change. "Ethan Carter. Twenty-one years old. Admitted to St. Mary's three weeks ago." I felt the blood drain from my face. "How do you know his name?" "Because I know what you need." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a white envelope. He held it toward me. I didn't take it. "What is that?" "The amount needed to settle your brother's hospital bill." I stared at the envelope. "How much?" "Twelve thousand, four hundred and eighty dollars." My throat tightened. That was the exact amount. "Why would you pay it?" "I wouldn't." I looked at him. He continued. "You would." I frowned. "With what?" His eyes met mine. "Six months of your life." My heart began pounding. Adrian stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Six months pretending to be my girlfriend." I looked at the envelope again. Then at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. And somehow, that made the whole thing worse. "Think carefully, Maya." He placed the envelope on the table beside us. "Because if you say yes..." He paused. "...your brother's medical bills disappear tonight." I swallowed. "And if I say no?" For the first time, something changed in his expression. Not much. Just enough for me to notice. "You walk away." He turned toward the door. Then stopped. "But before you do, there's something you should know." I waited. Adrian looked back at me. "I didn't choose you because of your brother." My stomach tightened. "Then why did you choose me?" He held my gaze for several seconds. "Because your father once saved my life." I couldn't breathe. My father had been dead for eleven years. And as far as I knew... he had never met Adrian Blackwood.