OWNED BY THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

The city never cared when people suffered. New York kept moving—cars honking, heels clicking, conversations blending into meaningless noise—while Mia Ashford sat in the back of a yellow cab, staring blankly out the window as her world quietly collapsed. Her father was dead. The thought didn’t feel real, even now. It sat in her chest like something unfinished, something her mind refused to fully accept. Just a week ago, he had been alive breathing, talking, promising her things would get better. Now he is gone. And he had left nothing behind but silence and problems she didn’t understand yet. “Ma’am, we’re here.” The driver’s voice snapped her back. Mia blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream she didn’t want to return to. Her fingers tightened around her worn handbag before she pushed the door open and stepped out without a word. The cab drove off almost immediately. She didn’t look back. Her eyes lifted to the building in front of her. St. Aurelius Medical Center. The bold letters stood tall against the pale walls, but there was nothing comforting about the place. The paint was slightly chipped. The glass doors were dull. Even from outside, it felt… tired. Just like her. Mia adjusted her grip on her bag and walked in. Each step felt heavier than the last. The moment she crossed the entrance, the sterile scent of antiseptic hit her nose. It clung to the air, sharp and suffocating, mixing with something else, maybe fear or hopelessness. People sat in rows, some whispering, some crying, some staring into nothingness. She fit right in. Room 64. That was where her mother was. Mia reached the door and paused for a second. Her hand hovered over the handle as doubt crept in. What if she walked in and things were worse? What if… She swallowed hard and pushed the door open. Her mother lay on the bed, thinner than Mia remembered. Fragile in a way that made something inside Mia twist painfully. For a moment, she just stood there. Watching. “Mia… you’re back.” Her mother’s voice was soft, but it carried warmth. Always warmth. Mia forced a smile as she stepped inside. “Don’t try to sit up, Mom,” she said quickly, rushing to her side. “I’m fine,” her mother insisted weakly. They both knew that wasn’t true. Mia sat beside her, gently adjusting the blanket. “How are you feeling?” “Better,” her mother said. A lie. A big one. Mia nodded anyway. “That’s good.” Silence settled between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was heavy. Too much was left unsaid. Her mother reached out, placing a weak hand over Mia’s. “You haven’t been sleeping.” Mia forced a small laugh. “I have.” “You’re a terrible liar,” her mother murmured. That almost broke her. Mia looked away quickly, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. “You should focus on getting better,” she said instead. “Everything else… I’ll handle it.” She didn’t know how. But she said it anyway. Because someone had to be strong. Even if she was falling apart inside. Her mother smiled softly. “You’ve always been strong, Mia.” Mia bit her lip. If only that were true. “I'll fix everything soon,” Mia murmured, though her voice lacked conviction even to her own ears. They both went quiet. The soft beeping of the monitor was the only steady thing in the room. Mia sat beside her mother, her fingers wrapped gently around the frail hand resting on the bed. She had been talking about nothing in particular. Only useless things. Anything to keep the silence from becoming unbearable. A knock came at the door. It was light, almost polite, but it made Mia's shoulders stiffen instantly. “Come in,” she said, straightening slightly. The door opened, and a man in a white coat stepped in. He looked to be in his late forties, his expression neutral in a way that felt practiced. Like someone who had delivered too many difficult truths to soften them anymore. “Good evening,” he said, glancing briefly at Mia before shifting his attention to her mother. “Mrs. Ashford.” Her mother managed a faint smile. “Doctor.” Mia stood up quickly. “Good evening, sir.” The doctor nodded once, then walked toward the bed, flipping open a file in his hand. His eyes scanned the pages, his expression growing more serious with each passing second. Mia watched him carefully. Too carefully. Because she was searching for something, maybe hope or reassurance. But she didn’t find it. “How is she?” Mia asked, unable to hold back any longer. The doctor paused before answering, as if choosing his words carefully. “Her condition is… delicate.” Mia’s chest tightened. “Delicate?” “She’s not responding to the current treatment as well as we expected,” he continued, his tone calm but distant. “We may need to move to a more advanced course of care.” Her heart dropped. “What does that mean?” Mia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It means,” he said, finally looking at her directly, “she will require better facilities, more specialized equipment and stronger medication.” Mia swallowed hard. “And… that will help her?” “It will increase her chances.” Chances. Not certainty. Mia nodded slowly, trying to process his words. “Then we’ll do it,” she said quickly. “We’ll move her.” The doctor didn’t respond immediately. That hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. Mia’s fingers curled slightly. “What is it?” He closed the file gently. “Miss Ashford… advanced treatment comes at a cost.” There it was. The word she had been trying to outrun ‘Cost’. “I know,” she said, a bit too fast. “I’ll handle it.” The doctor studied her face for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. Then he did. “The hospital has already been patient,” he said carefully. “But the outstanding bills…” Mia felt her heartbeat quicken. “How much?” she asked. He flipped the file open again, glancing down briefly. “Including medication, room charges, and emergency care… it’s accumulated to a significant amount.” “Just tell me,” she pressed. He exhaled quietly before saying the number. And just like that. The room seemed to tilt. Mia blinked, certain she had heard wrong. “That’s… that’s not possible.” “I’m afraid it is.” Her grip tightened around the edge of the bed. “There has to be some mistake. We just got here last week.” “Your mother’s condition required immediate attention,” the doctor explained. “Procedures were done without delay.” Mia shook her head slowly, her thoughts spiraling. “I… I can pay part of it. I just need time.” The doctor’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Time is something we don’t have much of.” Silence fell heavily over the room. Mia looked at her mother, who was watching her quietly, a faint sadness in her eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden,” her mother said softly. “You’re not,” Mia replied immediately, her voice breaking. “Don’t say that.” But the truth was pressing in on her from all sides. Bills she couldn’t pay. Treatment she couldn’t afford. Time she didn’t have. The doctor adjusted his glasses. “If arrangements aren’t made soon, we may have no choice but to… limit further treatment.” The words hit harder than anything else. Limit treatment. Mia felt something c***k inside her. “No,” she said quickly. “No, you can’t do that.” “I understand this is difficult…” “I’ll find the money,” she interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. “I’ll get it. Just… don’t stop her treatment.” The doctor held her gaze for a long moment. Then he gave a small nod. “You have a short window.” A warning not reassurance. He turned and walked toward the door, pausing briefly before leaving. “Do what you can, Miss Ashford.” And then he was gone. The door closed softly behind him. But the weight he left behind stayed. Mia stood there, frozen, her mind racing, her chest tight, her options shrinking by the second. “Everything will be fine, Mom.” She continued “I will be paid soon at work. It won't cover the bills but I will deposit it so that they won't limit your treatment”. They both knew this was a lie. Her salary can't even cover their food talk less of her mother’s medical bills. Silence filled the room and her mother didn't say a word. *********** An hour later, it was already night. Her mother was on rest while Mia stepped out of the room. The moment the door closed behind her, her expression dropped completely. The streetlights flickered as Mia walked home, her steps slow, her mind drowning in numbers and fear. The night felt heavier than usual, the air thick against her skin. She didn’t notice them at first. Until a car door slammed. Her steps faltered while three men stepped out from the shadows ahead, their presence blocked the narrow path. Another moved behind her. Mia’s breath caught. “Excuse me,” she said with an unsteady voice. No response. Just silence. And the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps closing in. Her grip tightened on her bag. “I don’t have anything…” One of them stepped forward, his face was unreadable. “We’re not here for that.” Mia froze. The man looked straight at her. And said, calmly… “Your dad owed our boss a huge amount of money.”