KISS THE VAMPIRE

Ronald Baker had texted me. One of the richest men in the entire country had just sent a message to a nineteen-year-old girl who could barely afford breakfast. It should’ve been a miracle. But miracles didn’t come with that cold prickle at the back of your neck. The Ronald Baker — owner of multiple companies, estates scattered across cities, a perfect family, and billions in his name. What could a man like him possibly want from me? I had nothing. Nothing to offer anyone. And yet… there it was. A message sitting on my phone screen like a ticking bomb. I read it for the fiftieth time. > Hello Isabel, I’d like to meet with you at Bakes & Stew by 2 p.m. today. I have some good news for you. Good news. That was all it said. Just good news. No greetings. No explanations. No hint of why a billionaire would know my name. I had never seen him in person. I’d only read about him in the papers or watched him on television beside politicians. I’d never even dreamed of being within a mile of him. While most people would be screaming and jumping in excitement, my stomach twisted in fear. What could he possibly want from me? Nothing about this felt right. I checked the time — 1:06 p.m. If I was going to meet him, I’d have to leave now. My heart pounded as I grabbed my worn-out handbag and slipped my phone inside. Should I tell Mum? Or should I just go alone? Before I could decide, the sound of wheels squeaking made me freeze. Mum rolled her chair into the living room, her eyes curious and a little tired. “Where to, young lady?” she asked. I forced a big smile — that guilty kind you wear when you’ve just been caught. I couldn’t tell her that Ronald Baker wanted to see me. She’d panic herself into another fainting spell. She was already sick enough. “I want to stop by Lacie’s place,” I lied quickly. “We want to talk about scholarship applications. Maybe she can help me fill some forms.” Mum’s expression softened. “All right, sweetheart. Don’t be long, okay?” “I won’t,” I said, trying not to sound guilty. The lie stung. But I couldn’t risk her worrying about something I didn’t even understand myself. I slipped out of the house, hailed the first cab I saw, and watched the city blur past the window as we drove. My palms were clammy. My mind wouldn’t stop running circles. Why me? What “good news” could a man like that have for someone like me? By the time I reached Bakes & Stew, it was five minutes past two. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and took a deep breath before stepping in. The chandelier lights flickered once when I walked in,making several people glance up at it. The restaurant was beautiful — glass chandeliers, marble floors, the smell of expensive food. Everyone looked like they belonged there… except me. And there he was. Ronald Baker. Already seated. Already waiting. Ronald Baker’s eyes looked brown at first, until the light hit them—and they gleamed an unnatural silver for a heartbeat. He wore a dark suit so sharp it could probably slice air. He looked like someone who fell out of a magazine. And somehow, even though he had to be nearing sixty, he looked forty at most. His hair perfectly combed back, and his smile — if it could be called that — didn’t reach his eyes. I swallowed hard and walked toward his table. “Good afternoon, sir,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady as I sat down opposite him. He looked up slowly, his eyes scanning me like I was something on a shelf. “You kept me waiting,” he said flatly. “Do all poor people have a problem keeping to time?” The way he stressed poor people made my stomach twist. I tried not to react, but the words burned. So he hated the poor. Fair enough — most rich men did. “I’m sorry I’m late,” I managed. “Why did you want to see me, sir?” He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rolled his eyes and made a small hand gesture toward a man standing several feet behind him. Only then did I notice the bodyguard — tall, muscular, silent. The man stepped forward, carrying a file. Ronald Baker took it, then slapped it on the table between us. I jumped slightly. It was a Ravenshade University application form. My breath caught. Ravenshade. The most prestigious and expensive university in the country. The kind of school that only children of ministers and billionaires attended. The kind of place I could only ever dream about while scrolling through pictures online. “I… I don’t understand,” I said honestly. He smiled — or maybe it was just a cruel twitch of his lips. “Come on, Isabel. You’re smarter than this. I want you to apply to this university. I’ll make sure you get in. I’ll pay all your fees, your bills, your accommodation. You won’t need to pay a single dime.” For a second, I forgot how to breathe. “W-what would you gain from that?” I stuttered, my fingers gripping my bag. He leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable. Then, with a voice as casual as if he were ordering coffee, he said: “You’ll bring Aaron Dashinmore to me in three months.” I blinked. “Aaron… Dashinmore?” That name— Dashinmore was the president’s surname. My heart dropped to my stomach. Was he talking about the president’s son? “I—I can’t—” my voice shook. “As much as your offer sounds tempting, sir, I can’t do that. I can’t even imagine trying to trick the president’s son. That could cost me my—” “Enough,” he interrupted sharply. He raised his hand, and the bodyguard stepped forward again. This time, the man handed him a small photograph. Baker placed it carefully on the table beside the application form. My blood ran cold. It was my mother’s picture — in her hospital bed. My hands trembled as I picked it up. He knew. He knew everything. About her illness. Her cancer. The few months she had left. He knew she was the only family I had left, that we barely survived on what was left of Dad’s retirement funds and the little I earned from part-time jobs. Tears blurred my vision. I looked up at him, my throat tight. He chuckled softly. “Oh, poor Isabel. Don’t look so scared. This isn’t a threat. It’s a good deal. Look at it this way — you bring me Aaron, you get your degree from the best university in the country, and your mother gets the treatment she needs. Everybody wins. Or…” he leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a whisper, “you say no to me, and you lose both your mother and your future.” His words were ice. Cold. Precise. And deadly. “But… why me?” I whispered, my voice barely there. He smiled wider. “Why not you, Isabel? You’re beautiful enough to catch Aaron’s attention. You need help. I love helping the poor,” he said mockingly. “And you’re smart. I’ve watched you win competitions. I read about you in the papers. You’re wasted where you are. I’m giving you a chance.” My chest tightened. I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. If I said no, I’d lose everything. If I said yes… I didn’t even know what I’d become. I didn’t reply. I just stared at the table, too numb to speak. When he realized I wasn’t going to answer, he stood up, reached out, and grabbed my chin gently — but firmly enough to make me flinch. “I understand this is a lot to take in,” he said softly. “So, I’ll give you till tomorrow morning to decide. I trust you’ll make the smart choice.” He straightened his suit, smirked, and added, “Order anything you want. It’s on me.” And just like that, he walked away, his bodyguard following behind like a shadow. I sat there, frozen. How had my quiet, ordinary life gone up in flames overnight? I didn’t order anything. My throat felt like sandpaper. My stomach twisted until it hurt. When I finally stepped outside, the sunlight was too bright. The street was too loud. My legs felt weak as I walked toward the bus stop, my thoughts spinning in every direction. How could I possibly bring the president’s son to that man? What did Ronald Baker want with him? And what would happen if I refused? I was so lost in thought that I didn’t see the car. The screech of tires came first — sharp, deafening. Then the impact. Pain exploded through my body. The world blurred into noise and color. I felt myself hit the ground. People screamed. Someone shouted my name — or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe… it was better this way, I thought dimly as my blood pooled beneath me. Better to die now than face whatever hell Ronald Baker had planned. My vision faded. Darkness swallowed me whole.