The billionaire needed me to survive

Chapter one:ashes and shadows

Chapter One: Ashes and Shadows

Evelyn’s POV

Two years ago, I thought my life had finally begun. I married Julian, a man who gave his whole heart to an orphan with no name, no family, and no legacy. Together, we had our little girl, Daisy. Julian was gentle, loving, and patient, everything a woman could ever pray for.

Until last night.

It was supposed to be an ordinary evening. We were sitting together, chatting, when I noticed Daisy needed a fresh diaper. I kissed Julian’s cheek, touched Daisy’s soft forehead, and stepped out to the corner store just down the street.

When I returned ten minutes later, my world was on fire.

Thick, dark smoke billowed into the night sky. Neighbors were screaming, running back and forth with buckets of water. I froze, the plastic shopping bag dropping from my numb fingers.

"Daisy! Julian!" I screamed, rushing toward the flames, but strong arms caught me, holding me back. It was Mr. Miller, our neighbor.

"Let me go! My baby! My husband is in there!" I tucked fists against his chest, weeping hysterically, but the crowd held me fast.

By the time the fire department extinguished the blazes, nothing was left. The structure had completely collapsed. The firefighters pulled me aside, their faces grim. There were no bodies to recover, just ash.

I walked away like a ghost. I had no house, no husband, no child, and no relatives. I couldn't go to Julian’s family for help; his parents had disowned him when he married me. If they found out about the fire, I knew they would blame me for his death. I had to run before they arrived.

I wandered the dark streets aimlessly, my eyes hollow, my heart shattered. Suddenly, a pair of harsh headlights cut through the gloom. A rusted sedan screeched to a halt beside me, and three heavily tattooed men stepped out, blocking my path.

"Evelyn Vance?" the lead man barked. "Your husband took out a loan with us last week. Fifty thousand dollars. Now that he’s dead, the debt falls on you."

"I... I don't know anything about a loan," I stammered, backing away. "I don't have any money!"

"Then you better find it by the end of the month," he snarled, stepping into my personal space. "Or we’ll harvest your organs to cover the balance."

They sped off, leaving me trembling on the pavement. I was trapped. No savings, no home, hunted by loan sharks, and grieving the two people who made my life worth living.

I crossed the main avenue, barely looking at traffic, when I noticed my chest throbbing. My breasts were heavy, full of milk meant for a baby girl who no longer existed. Pain radiated through me as droplets soaked through my thin blouse. The physical ache was a cruel reminder of my empty arms.

Across the street sat a sleek, dark metallic-black car idling near an empty alley. Desperate and shivering, I approached the vehicle, hoping the driver might have a phone or spare change.

I knocked lightly on the heavily tinted window. No answer.

I leaned closer and peered through the glass. A man was slumped back against the headrest, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, his face pale and slick with cold sweat. He looked like he was dying.

Finding the driver's door unlocked, I opened it gently. "Sir? Sir, are you alright?" I touched his burning forehead.

"Help... help me," he rasped, his voice a low, desperate whisper.

I leaned closer, hovering over him to hear what he was saying. As I bent down, a single stray drop of breast milk fell from my soaked blouse onto his hand.

His eyes snapped open. He stared directly at my wet shirt, then up at my face.

"Are you... nursing?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Yes, but my baby—"

Before I could finish, he grabbed my waist with surprising strength and pulled me onto his lap inside the vehicle.

"Help me," he growled.

He didn't wait for a response. He unbuttoned my blouse, pulled down the cup of my bra, and pulled me flush against his chest. Before I could process what was happening, he latched onto my breast, sucking hard, almost ferociously, like a dying man stumbling upon water in a desert.

"Wait— stop!" I gasped, trying to push against his shoulders.

But as he continued, a strange relief washed over me. The agonizing pressure in my swollen breast began to dissipate. The physical relief was so intense that my hands softened against his arms.

After a few minutes, his breathless gasps slowed. The deep, painful lines on his face smoothed out, and color returned to his skin. He slowly released me, resting his forehead against mine, his breathing gradually evening out.

Quietly, my cheeks burning, I sat back on his lap, fixing my bra and buttoning my shirt.