Chapter Three
602 Words
Chapter Three: A Debt Repaid
The next morning, Lily rushed into her brother’s hospital room, still wearing the oversized coat Damian had sent with the car.
“Noah!” she breathed, rushing to his bedside.
His eyes fluttered open slowly. “Lily… you’re back.”
She cupped his pale face in her hands, tears brimming in her eyes. “The surgery—it’s happening, Noah. The doctors said they’ve been paid in full. Everything’s taken care of.”
His brows furrowed. “How? You said we didn’t have the money—”
“I found a way,” she said softly. “Don’t worry about that now. Just focus on getting better.”
He stared at her, clearly exhausted. But a faint smile curved his lips.
“You’re like a superhero,” he murmured, already drifting back to sleep.
Lily kissed his forehead, forcing a smile even as her throat tightened. She turned away, gripping the bed rail as emotion surged through her chest.
She’d done it.
He was going to live.
But at what cost?
---
Outside the hospital, Damian leaned against his black car, checking his watch. When he saw her approach, he opened the door without a word.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, sliding into the passenger seat.
His jaw clenched slightly. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But still. Thank you.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, Lily broke it.
“I want to keep seeing my brother. Often.”
Damian didn’t look at her. “You will. I’m not a monster, Lily.”
A bitter smile touched her lips. “You sure about that?”
His eyes flicked to hers briefly before returning to the road.
“You said the same thing to me once,” he said coolly. “Right before you spilled coffee all over me and called me an arrogant—what was it? Ice-sculpted jackass?”
Her face flushed. “You deserved it.”
His lips twitched.
For a moment, just a moment, the mask slipped—and she saw something almost human in him.
Then it was gone.
---
That evening, Lily stood in front of a full-length mirror in Damian’s penthouse guest room, tugging nervously at the sleek navy-blue dress his assistant had delivered. It fit perfectly. Too perfectly.
She looked like someone else.
Not Lily Bennett, broke waitress and part-time bookstore clerk.
But Mrs. Blackwood, billionaire’s wife.
The thought made her stomach twist.
A soft knock came at the door.
Damian.
He didn’t enter. Just spoke through the door. “We leave in fifteen minutes. Be ready.”
“Where are we going?”
“A gala. You’ll be introduced publicly tonight—as my wife.”
Lily froze.
So this was it. The performance began now.
---
Thirty minutes later, flashbulbs exploded around them as they stepped from the sleek black car.
Damian’s hand slid around her waist. “Smile,” he murmured, voice low. “Convince them you love me.”
She forced a smile, ignoring the cameras, the murmurs, the questions shouted by reporters.
“Is that really Damian Blackwood’s wife?”
“Who is she?”
“Where did he find her?”
Damian leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
“You’re doing well.”
The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine—but she kept her face composed.
She could play this part.
For Noah.
For herself.
She just had to remember one thing:
This wasn’t love. It was survival.
- Writer
