Bound to the billionaire

Strings unseen

Amira pov

When I woke up that morning, my chest felt heavy, as though I’d swallowed a stone overnight. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, not knowing whether to feel good or bad about the decision I had made. On one hand, my mother’s bills were no longer hanging over my head. On the other, the contract I signed with Demian was like a shadow that followed me even into my dreams.

But there was no time to linger. I had business at the hospital.

By the time I got there, my hands were damp with sweat even though the morning air was still cool. The nurse at the counter looked up when I arrived, and when I explained why I was there, she nodded, pulled out a folder, and confirmed the balance due.

I handed over my card with trembling hands. The moment she swiped it and handed me the receipt, something inside me cracked. It was done. Paid in full. The debt that had haunted me for weeks was finally gone.

For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

When I went up to see my mother, I was met with an even bigger surprise. She was conscious. Weak, pale, and frail… but conscious.

“Mama,” I whispered, rushing to her bedside.

Her lips trembled into a faint smile. “Amira.” Her voice was soft and raspy, but hearing it was enough to make my knees buckle.

I held her hand, tears rushing to my eyes. “Don’t scare me like that again,” I managed between shaky laughs and sobs.

She squeezed my hand as tightly as she could, though her strength was still so faint. “You’ve been crying. How did you manage… the bills?”

I froze for a second, blinking back fresh tears. The truth sat heavy on my tongue. I sold myself to a contract, Mama. I made a deal with a man I barely know. But I couldn’t tell her that. Not now. Not when she had just woken up.

So I forced a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s taken care of. You just focus on getting better, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes glistening as if she understood more than I wanted her to.

I stayed with her for hours feeding her spoonfuls of broth, adjusting her pillows, listening to her whisper a few words here and there. Those hours were bittersweet I felt joy just having her awake, but guilt stabbed at me every time I remembered the price I had paid to make it happen.

Eventually, I had to leave for work. I promised her I’d come back soon, kissed her forehead, and forced myself out of the room.

The café was buzzing with its usual rhythm. The smell of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries clung to the air, customers rushed in and out, and my coworkers gossiped by the counter whenever there was a lull. I tied on my apron and got to work, my body moving on instinct. I poured cappuccinos, cleared tables, forced polite smiles… but my mind was still at the hospital. Still with Mama.

By the time closing hour came, my feet ached, but the weight on my chest was heavier than the fatigue. I just wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and escape the world for a little while.

But when I stepped outside, I froze.

There it was a sleek black luxury car parked right outside the café. The kind of car that made heads turn. And leaning casually against it was Demian.

My heart skipped.

My coworkers who were locking up behind me stopped and whispered among themselves, their eyes darting between me and him. I ignored them and forced myself to walk toward him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my tone calm.

He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes steady on mine. “I called you. Several times.”

I pulled out my phone, and sure enough, his missed calls were lined up like an accusation. “I was working,” I said flatly. “I don’t exactly have time to answer phones while serving coffee.”

Something flickered across his face, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he straightened from the car and said, “I want you to join me for dinner tomorrow. At my grandmother’s place. She wants to meet you.”

Dinner. With his grandmother. I hesitated, chewing my lip. It felt too soon, too real. But then the image of my mother lying in that hospital bed flashed in my mind. I had no room for pride. I had no room for resistance.

After a long pause, I nodded. “Alright. I’ll come.”

He studied me for a moment, then opened the car door. “Let me take you home.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take a cab,” I said quickly, almost desperately.

His expression didn’t change, but his voice carried a weight I couldn’t argue with. “Get in the car, Amira.”

I sighed and slid into the passenger seat. The drive was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the blur of streetlights passing by. I kept my eyes glued to the window, my thoughts spinning, my voice locked away. The only words I spoke were short directions to my building.

When we finally arrived, I reached for the handle, eager to escape, but his voice stopped me.

“Start arranging your things,” he said evenly. “After we register the marriage this weekend, you’ll move into the villa.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. Slowly, I nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

I stepped out, not daring to look back.

Inside my apartment, the air felt different. This place that had been my safe haven suddenly felt small, temporary, fragile. I looked around at my little sofa, my chipped coffee table, the curtains I had chosen years ago. My heart ached. Soon, none of this would be mine anymore.

With a sigh, I dragged my suitcase from the corner and began folding clothes. Each shirt, each dress, felt like a goodbye.

When I finally crawled into bed, exhaustion weighed down on me, but sleep wouldn’t come easy. My mind replayed everything the receipt at the hospital, Mama’s smile,Demien eyes in the streetlight.

And for the first time in a long while, I truly wondered what tomorrow would take from me.