I was drowning in hospital bills when a stranger in a suit offered me a deal: pretend to be his fiancée, and he’d save my father’s life. I had no choice but to say yes. Then I met his brother…
The day started like any other, but by noon, my entire world had collapsed.
My phone buzzed just as I was locking my apartment door.
I almost didn’t answer: spam calls had been relentless lately, but something made me pick up.
“Miss Carter?” The voice was calm and professional. “This is Dr. Reynolds.
I’m calling about your father.”
“Is he okay?” My voice cracked on the last word.
There was a pause, a measured breath. “His condition has worsened. He needs surgery immediately.
Without it… his chances are low.”
I pressed my back against the doorframe, gripping the phone so hard my fingers ached.
“How much?”
The number crashed over me like a tidal wave. Too high. Impossible.
I barely heard anything after that.
I just murmured a weak “I’ll figure it out” before ending the call.
But I had nothing. No savings. No family to ask for help.
Just a café job that barely covered rent.
By the time I arrived at work, my chest felt hollow. I barely noticed the smell of coffee beans or the familiar chime of the bell as I pushed through the door. I made a beeline for my manager.
“Lisa, I… I need an advance.
Please. Anything you can spare.”
Lisa’s face softened, but her hands twisted nervously.
“Sophie, I wish I could do more. Two months’ salary is the best I can offer.”
It wasn’t enough.
But I forced a nod, blinking hard.
“Thank you. I… I appreciate it.”
The weight in my chest only grew heavier. Two months’ salary wasn’t nearly enough.
It wouldn’t even cover half of what I needed.
I blinked hard, willing the sting behind my eyes to disappear. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. Exhaling shakily, I turned back toward the café floor.
And that’s when I felt it.
Someone was watching me.
The sensation crawled up my spine, a quiet, lingering gaze that felt too deliberate to ignore. I glanced up. A man sat near the window, his eyes locked onto me.
He wasn’t pretending to skim a menu or glance around absentmindedly.
He was watching. Listening.
The café wasn’t loud. My conversation with Lisa hadn’t been a whisper.
He must have caught every desperate word. Heat rushed to my cheeks.
Who is he?
For months, another man always sat in that spot. We had never spoken beyond polite exchanges, but I noticed him.
He never rushed, never buried himself in his phone, never seemed in a hurry to leave.
He always ordered the same thing. Black coffee. No sugar.
No cream.
I even started adding an extra cookie to his plate. He never said anything, never questioned it, but he always smiled before leaving.
And I had foolishly imagined, just once, that maybe one day he’d do more than smile.
But that day, he wasn’t there. Instead, a different man sat in his place.
Older.
Sharper. Dressed in a suit that radiated quiet authority. He stirred his coffee with slow, deliberate movements, his gaze flicking toward me before shifting away.
I forced myself to move, to pretend I hadn’t noticed.
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