"No way!!" Julia screamed when Hailey showed her the marriage contract Killian had given her to read in case she finally changed her mind. "Killian Valtieri? That guy is known as one of the most handsome billionaires in Velmora. People say he took after his father in character and his family is a bunch of I don't care as long as I get what I want type of people. Goodness, Hailey, I feel like you just landed a whole bag."
Hailey stared at her in disbelief. She'd just explained what had happened the night before—how she narrowly escaped being involved in a murder scene—and all Julia could talk about was Killian's face?
"Julia, can you focus?" she said, standing from the couch and heading to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water, the coolness grounding her spiraling thoughts.
She'd come directly to Julia's house before going to the hospital. To think she felt lost last night with no idea where she could go.
"I'm in a mess right now and you're concerned about how handsome Killian is?" She questioned, gulping down her water as the image of his face resurfaced in her mind.
Julia held up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But look—this contract isn't half bad. Marrying Killian could be the best thing for you right now. He clearly gets something out of this too, or he wouldn't have offered. And let's be real—whoever killed Mr. Silbetto is going to figure out you were there. You need protection, Hailey. Killian showed up at the right time. Also, you don't need to worry about the club's CCTV cameras . I'll make sure it's taken care of."
She glanced over the contract again. "The terms seem… manageable. No toxic rules. No intimacy unless it's absolutely necessary. I can already see Blake and your family losing their minds when they find out you married a billionaire right after they tossed you out." She chuckled. "It's giving main character energy. Honestly, it reminds me of this book I read last week—"
Hailey shook her head. Julia never failed to turn real-life chaos into storylines. But the truth was, marrying Killian could be her way out. Her way to reclaim what was stolen, to get revenge, and maybe—just maybe—start over.
A few hours later, Hailey made her deposit at the hospital and Phil informed her that the treatment would begin soon.
"Mom, I'm scared," Aiden whispered as she sat by his bedside. His voice was so soft it almost broke her. He looked even thinner than he had the day before, and guilt gnawed at her for not noticing the signs of his illness earlier.
"What if I die?" he asked.
"Don't say that," she said firmly, squeezing his hand. "You've come too far to give up now." She met his eyes. "You remember what you told me last month? That you wanted to join the soccer team?"
He gave a weak nod.
"Then you have to wake up and get strong, okay? You've got dreams to chase. Promise me."
"I promise," he whispered, barely audible. Then, after a pause, "When will Dad come to see me?"
Hailey's heart clenched. She hesitated. "He'll come when you wake up," she said, forcing a smile. "He's just… busy with work right now."
It hurt to lie, but telling him the truth—that Blake had walked away from them—would only break him more.
A nurse stepped into the room. "Ma'am, it's time for the operation."
Phil had told her earlier they'd found a matching bone marrow donor. She'd wanted to be the donor herself, but with only one kidney left—thanks to Blake—that wasn't an option. Another reason she regretted ever saving him.
As they wheeled Aiden away, Hailey sat alone in the waiting area. The surgery would take hours, but she couldn't afford to sit still. There was still money to find, and stripping or taking clients again wasn't an option—not after what had happened.
Her eyes drifted to her phone. She pulled it out and stared at the contact name for a long moment.
Then she exhaled and hit the dial.
"I'm ready to give you an answer," she said.
Somewhere else,
In a dimly lit room, a man was sitting cross-legged as he put the tip of a cigarette into his mouth and puffed out the smoke. A classical slowed jazz music was singing in the background. Smoke filled the room so much that one would think that the room had caught fire.
The door to the room opened and a man walked him. He coughed slightly at the amount of smoke in the room before trying to adjust his eyes on the figure sitting on the couch.
"Boss, you called for me?" The man standing asked, his head bowed low in respect.
The boss took a puff, his eyes shifting to his lackey. "You did a good job, and I was about to send you a bonus transfer until something crossed my mind." His tone was calm, dark and tense. The words slurred out of his lips like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
"Please tell me," the lackey asked.
"Have you wondered why that greasy old man was at the hotel? Was someone with him when you killed him?"
The lackey trembled a little but tried to stand still.
"I-I don't think so," he stuttered.
The boss lazily stared at his lackey. "You said you found his assistant at the strip club and he didn't mention anything else to you?"
"I-didn't think a-about it. I just—I just—Actually, I saw a woman's bag on the bed b-but—"
The boss suddenly rose to his feet, startling his lackey.
"Tyler," he called, and instantly, Tyler's blood went cold. "Are you trying to tell me someone saw you when you killed Mr. Silbetto?" He asked, and instantly, the air changed.
But Tyler was too scared to speak.
"Make sure you find that woman," he ordered coldly, his voice razor-sharp. "I don't care how, but make sure you do. Kill her before she says anything. And if you don't…"
He didn't need to finish his sentence. The threat in his tone said enough.
Tyler bowed quickly and bolted out of the room without another word.
The boss exhaled, sinking back into his chair as smoke curled around him. His ears darkened with rage, his expression hard as stone.
'I'm so close to achieving everything. I won't let one woman ruin it.'