A devil's proposal
712 Words
Lily could hardly breathe.
The words Damien Blackwood had spoken still echoed in her ears.
Marry me.
How could he say something so outrageous so calmly?
How could her father sit there and let him?
She stormed out of Blackwood Holdings, tears blurring her vision.
"Lily!"
Mr. Blake hurried after her.
"Lily, wait!"
She spun around.
"Don't!"
Her voice cracked.
"Don't follow me!"
People walking past turned to stare.
But she didn't care.
"You knew!"
Her chest rose and fell violently.
"You sat there and listened while he offered to buy me like I was some property!"
Mr. Blake's eyes filled with tears.
"I was trying to save you."
"Save me?" she laughed bitterly.
"By selling me?"
"Lily—"
"No!"
She shook her head.
"Mom hasn't even been gone for three days, Papa."
"Three days!"
"And this is what you've reduced me to?"
Mr. Blake broke down.
"If I don't pay them, they'll kill me."
His voice trembled.
"They'll kill me."
"And what happens to you and your siblings?"
Lily froze.
For a moment, she saw not a man trying to betray her.
She saw a broken father.
A frightened widower.
A man drowning.
Still…
It didn't make Damien's proposal any less cruel.
---
That evening, Lily locked herself in her room.
She couldn't stop thinking about Damien.
His cold expression.
His calm voice.
Those piercing gray eyes.
He hadn't looked amused.
He hadn't looked desperate.
He had looked…
Certain.
As though he already knew what her answer would be.
The thought angered her.
"Arrogant jerk."
Who did he think he was?
Why would a billionaire want to marry someone like her?
Was this revenge?
Humiliation?
Pity?
Or something even worse?
Nothing made sense.
And that frightened her more than anything.
---
Meanwhile, miles away, Damien stood before the windows of his penthouse office.
Rain poured against the glass.
His assistant, Andrew, entered quietly.
"Sir."
Damien didn't turn around.
"Did she leave safely?"
"Yes."
Andrew hesitated.
"She's devastated."
A shadow crossed Damien's face.
"I know."
"Then why do this?"
Silence.
Finally, Damien answered.
"Because I don't have a choice."
Andrew frowned.
"Shouldn't you tell her?"
"No."
"Not yet."
"She'll hate me."
Damien's voice became quiet.
"But hatred is better than losing her."
Andrew wanted to ask more.
But he knew better.
Because behind Damien's desk, hidden inside a locked drawer…
Was an old photograph.
And beneath that photograph…
A secret powerful enough to destroy everything.
---
Back at home, Lily sat beside her mother's dressing table.
Everything remained untouched.
Her perfume.
Her jewelry.
Her favorite scarf.
It felt as though Mrs. Blake would walk through the door at any moment.
Fresh tears rolled down Lily's cheeks.
"Mom."
"What do I do?"
"Please tell me what to do."
But the room answered with silence.
And silence hurt the most.
---
Suddenly—
BANG!
Lily jumped.
Another loud noise echoed from downstairs.
BANG!
Voices.
Angry voices.
Her heart nearly stopped.
She rushed out of her room.
The front door had been forced open.
The loan sharks.
Again.
Mia screamed.
Ethan stood protectively in front of their father.
The scar-faced leader smiled coldly.
"Missed us?"
Mr. Blake trembled.
"I begged for more time!"
"And we gave it."
The man glanced at his watch.
"Time is running out."
Without warning, one of the men smashed a lamp.
CRASH!
Another kicked over a bookshelf.
Mia burst into tears.
"Please stop!"
Lily cried.
But they ignored her.
The scar-faced man approached Mr. Blake.
Then—
He pulled out a knife.
Lily's blood ran cold.
"Papa!"
The man held the blade inches from Mr. Blake's throat.
"Seven days."
His voice was deadly.
"No more excuses."
"No more begging."
"Pay us."
"Or we'll make sure your children bury you beside your wife."
He lowered the knife slowly.
Then smiled.
"And next time…"
His eyes settled on Lily.
"...we won't come for the furniture."
Fear gripped her.
Pure terror.
The men left.
But not before throwing something onto the floor.
Lily's trembling fingers picked it up.
A white envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
She gasped.
It was a picture of their family.
Taken at her mother's funeral.
Someone had been watching them.
And written in red ink across the photograph were four chilling words:
YOU'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.
- Writer
