Chapter One: The Price for Survival
Elora’s POV
This was me, stepping out to face my fears again.
Not because I was brave. But because life didn’t give me a choice.
After Dad collapsed at work and was rushed to the emergency room, everything shifted. College became a luxury I could no longer afford. Every minute I spent in class felt like a betrayal, time I could’ve spent working, earning, doing something to keep him breathing.
The hospital smelled like bleach and quiet despair. The kind that settled into your bones. I’d memorized the tiles on the floor, the vending machine in the hallway, and the too-polite smiles of nurses who’d seen too many families fall apart here.
A man in a tailored black suit stood waiting for me at the reception desk. He looked like he belonged in a courtroom, not among beeping machines and dying dreams.
"Hi. Elora?" he asked, his voice flat but not unkind.
I nodded.
He handed me a file without ceremony, like he was passing on a menu.
It was a breakdown…..no, a sentence of my father’s hospital expenses. Dialysis. Emergency scans. Medication. ICU care.
The total at the bottom could have paid for an apartment in the city.
The paper trembled in my hands as I stared at it.
“Is this… final?” I asked, my voice a mere whisper.
He gave a slight nod, his eyes flickering with a hint of pity.
“I’m sorry. This is what we’ve billed so far. The hospital may delay some parts, but not for long. There are limits.”
“Please, sir,” I breathed. “Is there any way the hospital can give me more time? Please. I don’t have half this amount.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks, warm and silent. “It’s just me and my dad. I’m a student. I don’t have anyone else. And I can’t sit and watch him die.”
Dean hesitated, then looked at me for the first time like a person, not a problem.
“I’ll speak to Jason. Maybe a payment plan. But don’t expect miracles.”
I nodded slowly, clutching the file to my chest. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
But when he walked away, I stood frozen, tears blurring the paper in my hands. A payment plan. What was I going to pay with? My dreams?
I walked out of the hospital on legs that barely worked. The sun was setting, casting long shadows on the ground. Funny how the world kept moving while mine felt stuck.
I took the long way home. I couldn’t face Dad yet, not with fear plastered on my face.
As I crossed the street, my phone buzzed. A text.
Unknown Number:
“You need help, Elora? Meet me. Tonight. 9PM. Le Rivière. Ask no questions.”
My heart dropped.
I reread the message three times.
Who was this? How did they know my name? How did he get my contact? And how did they know I needed help?
For a second, I considered deleting it. Blocking the number. But then I looked at the file again, the bill, the deadlines, the impossible mountain I had to climb.
And I realized: whoever this was… they knew something.
And right now, I had nothing to lose.
By 8:50 PM, I stood outside Le Rivière, one of the most elite restaurants in the city. I’d never been inside before. People like me didn’t belong here.
I tugged nervously at my jacket, second-guessing everything. What if this was a trap? What if it was a scam or worse, something dangerous?
But fear had a way of losing its power when you’d already lost everything else.
I stepped inside.
The scent of roasted truffle met me like a wave. I stood awkwardly by the entrance until a hostess approached me.
“I’m here to meet someone,” I said quietly. “They told me to come at 9.”
The woman smiled like she was used to secrecy. “Right this way.”
She led me to a private room.
The door opened.
And sitting at the head of a polished mahogany table was a man I recognized instantly.
Damian Blackwood.
The billionaire tech mogul. The man whose name made venture capitalists sweat.
And the last person I ever expected to want anything from me.
“Sit, Elora,” he said smoothly. His voice was calm, but it echoed with something far more powerful: control.
“I hear you’re in need of a miracle.”
I didn’t sit. My voice cracked. “Why are you helping me?”
His lips curved slightly. “Because I don’t offer help for free. I offer… opportunities.”
I looked at him, stunned. There was a storm behind those dark eyes, and I had just stepped into its path.
“What do you want from me?” I whispered.
He leaned forward, fingertips pressed together.
“Marry me. On paper. For one year. In return, I’ll pay for your father’s treatment in full. No questions asked.”
My mouth opened. No words came out.
He smiled coldly.
“And before you ask why, it’s business. I need a wife. You need a lifeline. Say yes, and everything changes. Say no… and you walk out of here with nothing.”
The room spun. My heart pounded.
Was this the rescue I’d prayed for or the beginning of something darker than debt?
