A Million to Break Her Heart ,But I Fell Instead

To scrape together money for my mother's surgery, I gave up a respectable career and became a host at a nightclub.

Armed with a silver tongue and a face that didn't hurt, I rose through the ranks fast, earning a reputation as the top earner in the local nightlife scene.

That evening, a special guest walked in and asked for me by name.

I pushed open the door to the VIP room. A man in his fifties sat on the leather sofa, and behind him stood a dozen bodyguards in black.

Before I could get a word out, he slid a photograph across the table.

"Get her to fall for you. I'll pay you a million dollars."

Years in this line of work had taught me one thing: the richer the client, the more dangerous the job.

When he saw me hesitate, the man let out a cold laugh.

"What's the matter? The so-called lady-killer can't handle one woman?"

I stared at the cash spread across the table. Finally, I couldn't hold back.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's your relationship with the woman in the photo?"

What he said next made my blood run cold.

"She's my wife."

……

I'd been in the nightlife game for years. I'd seen my share of beautiful women. But the woman in that photograph was nothing like any of them. The word stunning wasn't enough. It was like the concept had been invented just to describe her.

"What? Surprised?"

The client watched me with obvious amusement, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"The money, every last cent, will be yours. As for the rest of it..."

He trailed off and reached over to pat my shoulder.

"The less you know, the better off you'll be."

I froze for a few seconds, then poured myself a glass of whiskey and knocked it back in one go.

"Sir, I'm just a guy who pours drinks and keeps people company. Wrecking someone's marriage is something I would never..."

He cut me off with a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Wrecking a marriage?"

"Kid, do you really think a man like me gives a damn about marriage?"

With that, he pulled out his phone and opened his contacts.

"If I'm not mistaken, your mother's heart bypass surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

"I happen to know the chief of surgery at that hospital personally. If he handles the operation himself, the risks drop considerably."

In that moment, I'll admit it. I was tempted.

The whole reason I'd been killing myself to earn money was to pay for my mother's surgery. Now a full million sat right in front of me. Who wouldn't be tempted?

The client seemed to read my mind. He pushed the entire stack of cash toward me without hesitation.

"Consider this a deposit. Take it. Go settle your mother's hospital bills first."

The room went dead silent. We just sat there, eyes locked.

After a long beat, I fished a cigarette from my pocket and lit it.

"Boss, there's one thing I still can't figure out."

"Why me?"

He smiled and answered without missing a beat.

"Because you need the money."

I searched his eyes for some kind of tell, some crack in the facade. I came up empty.

Because he was right. I needed the money. Badly.

I looked at the bills fanned out in front of me, and all I could see was my mother lying in that hospital bed.

"Fine."

I slammed my palm on the table.

"You've got yourself a deal."

The client didn't look surprised. He just gave a slight nod, as if he'd known all along how this would end.

On his way out, he stopped at the door. He turned back to face me, and something in his gaze turned razor-sharp.

"Remember. You have two days."

Once I was sure he was gone, I stuffed every last bill into my bag.

A few minutes later, the club manager strolled in looking confused.

"Tristan Henson, what's going on? You're wrapping up early tonight?"