Bound To The Hidden Heir

"I want you to marry me." For several seconds, Harriet Virelle simply stared. The words echoed inside her head. Once. Twice. Three times. Still, they made no sense. Perhaps she had misheard. Perhaps exhaustion had finally broken her brain. There was no possible explanation for why one of the richest men in Europe was asking a complete stranger to become his wife. "What?" The man sitting across from her didn't smile. Didn't blink. Didn't look remotely embarrassed. "I want you to marry me." The room suddenly felt smaller. Harriet's pulse thundered in her ears. An hour ago, she had been standing outside St. George Hospital trying not to cry. Now she was inside a mansion that looked like a palace, while a billionaire in a wheelchair calmly proposed marriage. Nothing about this was normal. Nothing. "Is this some kind of joke?" "It isn't." Harriet laughed anyway. A short, nervous sound. Because the alternative was panic. "You don't know me." "I know enough." That answer only made everything worse. Harriet folded her arms. "Then explain." The stranger remained silent for several seconds. Studying her. Not like a man looking at a woman. Like a man evaluating a decision. Calculating every possibility. Finally, he spoke. "Your mother needs treatment." The words struck harder than they should have. Because they were true. Painfully true. Harriet swallowed. "What does that have to do with anything?" "I can pay for everything." The room fell silent. Hospital bills. Medication. Specialists. Every impossible number haunting her for months flashed through her mind. The stranger continued. "I can make sure she receives the best care available." Hope stirred. Dangerous. Unwanted. Because hope was what made desperate people do foolish things. Harriet lifted her chin. "What do you want in return?" His answer never changed. "You already know." Marriage. The word echoed inside her head. Marriage. No money. No work. No information. Marriage. And somehow that felt far more terrifying. Three hours earlier. Harriet Virelle only had twenty-three pounds remaining in her bank account. She stared at the number displayed on her phone screen as she stood outside St. George Hospital. Twenty-three pounds. That was all she had left after purchasing her mother's medication the previous week. The cold evening wind brushed against her face. She barely noticed. The doctor's words still echoed inside her head. "We need to begin treatment immediately." Immediately. Such a beautiful word when you had money. Such a terrifying one when you didn't. Harriet closed her eyes. Twelve thousand pounds. That was the amount she needed before the end of the month. An impossible amount. Even if she worked every available shift. Even if she stopped sleeping. Even if she somehow found a second job. There wasn't enough time. There wasn't enough money. There was no solution. She tightened her grip on her handbag. Every piece of jewelry she owned was already gone. Her savings had disappeared months ago. She had borrowed money from every friend willing to help. There was nothing left. Nothing except hope. And hope didn't pay hospital bills. A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it immediately. Crying wouldn't help her mother. Harriet took a deep breath and began walking toward the nearest bus stop. The street was unusually quiet. Almost deserted. Several minutes later, she sat down on an old bench and checked her phone again. Nothing. No messages. No miracles. No answers. Only silence. She leaned back and stared at the darkening sky. For the first time in years, she truly didn't know what to do. Then a black luxury car stopped in front of her. Harriet frowned. The vehicle looked completely out of place in this neighborhood. Seconds later, the rear door opened. A man stepped out. Impeccably dressed. Perfectly groomed. Expensive enough to make everyone around him look underdressed. Harriet immediately stood. Her mother's warnings echoed in her mind. Never trust strangers. Especially rich ones. "Miss Harriet Virelle?" Every muscle in her body tightened. He knew her name. "I think you have the wrong person." The man smiled politely. "I assure you, I don't." Harriet took a cautious step backward. "What do you want?" "To take you somewhere." "No." The answer came instantly. The stranger didn't seem surprised. Instead, he reached into his jacket and handed her a business card. Harriet examined it. Luzio Romano. Personal Assistant. The card looked real. Professional. Expensive. That didn't mean she trusted him. "I don't know you." "That's true." "Then why would I get into your car?" Luzio glanced toward the hospital behind her. Then he quietly said, "Because the person who sent me can help your mother." Everything inside Harriet froze. Her heartbeat stumbled. "How do you know about my mother?" "He conducted his research." Research. The word should have reassured her. Instead, it frightened her. Who investigated strangers? "What does he want from me?" Luzio hesitated. The first crack in his professional composure. "I'm not authorized to discuss that." Almost, Harriet laughed. A mysterious rich man. An expensive car. A secret invitation. This sounded like the beginning of a crime documentary. She should leave. She knew she should. Then she remembered her mother's pale face. The hospital room. The doctor's expression. The bills. Immediately. Harriet closed her eyes. When she opened them again, desperation had already made the decision. "Where are we going?" Relief flickered across Luzio's face. "To my employer." And Harriet knew she had just made a mistake. The car eventually stopped before a massive estate. Harriet's breath caught. Tall iron gates. Private security. Perfect gardens. The property looked less like a home and more like a castle. Luzio opened the door. "This way." Harriet followed. The interior was somehow even more impressive. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything screamed wealth. Everything reminded her she didn't belong here. Eventually, they stopped before enormous oak doors. Luzio opened them. Harriet stepped inside. And met him. A man sat near the window. The fading sunlight outlined his silhouette. Dark hair. Sharp features. Perfectly tailored black suit. Power radiated from him without effort. He didn't stand when she entered. Not because he was arrogant. Because he couldn't. Harriet's gaze dropped. Wheelchair. Surprise flashed through her. Only for a moment. Then she quickly looked away. The stranger noticed. He noticed everything. "Miss Virelle." His voice was calm. Controlled. Dangerously calm. "Thank you for coming." "I didn't exactly have a choice." Something almost resembling amusement flickered across his eyes. "My name is Lucien Vale." The name meant nothing to her. Apparently, that surprised him. "You don't know who I am." It wasn't a question. "No." A brief smile appeared. Gone almost immediately. Interesting. That was what his expression seemed to say. "I investigated you." Harriet frowned. "Why?" Silence followed. Then: "I know your mother requires treatment." Harriet felt her stomach drop. "I can pay for everything." And moments later, after questions, disbelief, and growing fear— Lucien Vale calmly changed her life forever. "I want you to marry me." And Harriet suddenly understood that getting into a stranger's car might have been the worst decision she had ever made.