Chapter 4
923 Words
Kaelia’s Pov
I walked home like a zombie. No thoughts. No direction. Just the muffled sound of traffic and the slap of my bare feet against concrete. I held the cursed heels in one hand, the itchy wig in the other. My real hair stuck to the back of my neck, the night’s humidity making me feel even more like a fraud than I already did.
What the hell just happened?
Freddy Freaking Montgomery.
The man who signs my paychecks. Who once walked past me without so much as a nod while I scrambled to stop an A-lister from flooding her suite with rose-scented bathwater. The same man who now thought I was Lilyanna, i********:’s favorite chaos queen, and wanted to pay me twenty million dollars to marry him.
For a year.
No s*x. No strings. Just public appearances and a signed contract.
It had to be a joke. A prank. Some elaborate trap designed by the universe to test how badly I wanted to save my mom.
I stopped at the corner of my block, winded. My chest ached. I wasn’t sure if it was the walk, the too-tight bra, or the emotional whiplash of being called “perfect” by a billionaire.
My phone buzzed and on looking down, I found out it was Freddy.
It read:
Take your time. If this is something you’re even remotely considering, reach out. We’ll go over the contract together.
I read it once. Then again. Then I stared at the message like it was written in fire.
I should not have given him my number. But he asked. And I panicked.
“Sure,” I’d said, trying to sound breezy. “Just in case you want haunted doll recommendations.”
Now I was paying the price.
I shoved the phone into my bag, ignoring the way my fingers trembled. I wasn’t going to say yes. I wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.
By the time I reached my building, the adrenaline had worn off. The shitty hallway lighting buzzed overhead. The carpet was still stained with someone’s takeout from last week. But at least the apartment was empty.
Lilyanna had gone home.
I was grateful for that.
I didn’t have the energy in me to explain the insanity I had just walked away from—or the $30,000 sitting in my account courtesy of her idea.
She’d sent it before I even left the restaurant.
For your trouble, darling.
I dropped the wig on the kitchen counter like it was cursed and peeled out of the dress. The zipper caught twice before I got it off. I stood there in my tiny living room, in mismatched underwear, staring at the wall.
Twenty million dollars.
I couldn’t even wrap my head around that much money.
But I wasn’t going to take it.
Because not everything had a price.
Because I had boundaries.
I had morals.
Because Freddy Montgomery would find another woman—some influencer with real followers and no criminally low self-esteem.
Right?
...
Three days had passed since that night.
I didn’t answer Lilyanna’s texts. I avoided the lobby like it was a war zone. I practically sprinted past the staff break room every time someone tried to make small talk.
But for some reason, I couldn’t stop looking at my phone.
His number sat there. Silent. Like a loaded gun I wasn’t ready to fire.
Then the nurse called.
“Kaelia,” she said softly, “your mother’s condition is progressing faster than we expected. I think it’s time we consider moving her to a hospital. The at-home setup is no longer enough.”
My throat closed.
A hospital?
Do you know how much that costs?
“Is it urgent?” I whispered.
A pause.
“Not yet. But it will be.”
I thanked her. Hung up. Sat in silence.
A ping broke it.
My paycheck had dropped. And it was... half.
I blinked.
Then read the email from HR.
Per Mrs. Abney’s formal complaint, we’ve issued a temporary wage adjustment. Your supervisor advocated on your behalf, but we had to comply with the guest’s demand. We hope for your understanding.
I read it three times.
A wage adjustment.
For what? Refusing to bring her ten gold-leafed face masks at midnight?
My hands curled into fists.
It wasn’t just the money. It was the helplessness. The powerlessness.
I was drowning in it.
“Hey,” someone said behind me.
I turned. It was Sofia from housekeeping. She had a kind face. She always brought in pan dulce on Fridays.
“You okay? You’ve looked... I don’t know. Worn out this week. What's going on?”
I tried to smile. Failed. “I’m fine.”
She squeezed my arm. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”
I nodded.
Then stared at my phone.
His message was still there.
Reach out if you’re even remotely considering it.
I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who sold her dignity for money. But I also didn’t want to watch my mother deteriorate in a living room that reeked of mold while I scrubbed vomit out of carpet for minimum wage.
I chewed my lip.
No real intimacy.
Just public appearances. Smiling. Pretending.
One year.
Twenty million dollars.
My fingers hovered over the screen for a few minutes. Then, before I could stop myself, I dialed.
It rang once.
Twice.
And then—
“Montgomery” he answered.
I swallowed. “Your offer...”
I closed my eyes.
“I accept.”
- Writer
