Becoming Mrs. Blackwood

~ LENA ~

Forty-eight hours.

That was how long my sister, Sofia, had left to live.

The doctor’s voice wouldn’t stop echoing in my head. It had been cold and final, like a sentence already passed.

“Mrs. Martinez—if we don’t operate within the next forty-eight hours, her heart may fail. We could lose her.”

My chest tightened painfully as I sat on a cold bench just outside the hospital, my fingers clenched together so tightly they ached. Around me, the world continued as if nothing had changed. Nurses rushed past, stretches rolled by, voices rose and fell. But it all sounded distant, muffled.

None of it felt real.

Because somewhere inside the hospital, my eleven-year-old sister was dying.

I swallowed hard as the weight of the doctor’s words pressed down on me, squeezing until it hurt to breathe. Sofia had been born with a congenital heart condition that had slowly gotten worse over the years. Now it had reached the point where she needed an urgent surgery to survive. A surgery that cost a fortune we didn’t have.

I had tried everything to raise the money. Everything—from loans, to charities, to churches. Even friends I hadn’t spoken to in years.

Dead ends. Every single one of them.

Now I sat here asking myself a question I already knew the answer to.

Where, in God’s name, were we supposed to find a hundred and eighty thousand dollars for emergency heart surgery?

As a company secretary, I was earning barely enough to keep food on the table and the lights on. My mother cleaned houses for a living, a maid’s job with no benefits, no insurance, nothing to fall back on. Together, we barely survived.

But this? This was impossible.

Inside the hospital room earlier, I’d watched my mother collapse into a chair after the doctor delivered the news and walked away. She’d gone pale instantly, and her hands shook uncontrollably.

“I’m just a maid,” she’d cried, her voice breaking. “W-where—am I… Where am I going to get that kind of money from?”

I had held her. I had told her everything would be okay, that we’d figure it out.

I had lied because she needed me to be strong. She couldn’t see my fear. She couldn’t know how close I was to breaking myself.

But out here, alone, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came fast, spilling down my cheeks as my body shook with quiet sobs. I felt so small, so helpless. Trapped. Like the world had finally backed me into a corner with no way out.

Only a miracle could save my sister now. I knew that. So, I prayed. Broken words whispered between my sobs.

“Oh God… Please don’t let Sofie die… Please… don’t take her away from us.”

My mother wasn’t going to survive it. I was sure of that.

I didn’t know how it would happen, where help would come from. I only knew it had to come. God had to do something.

“Miss Martinez?”

The voice cut through my thoughts so suddenly that I jerked, my heart leaping into my throat. I looked up, wiping my face quickly as I came to my feet.

A man stood a few steps away from me. Tall, well-built, impeccably dressed in a dark Tom Ford trench coat and business suit that looked completely out of place in a public hospital.

Everything about him screamed wealth. Power. Control. From his polished shoes to the calm, assessing look in his eyes. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, my heart skipped as he looked at me.

There was a brief glint of something else I caught in his eyes. Something that looked like amazement. But it was quickly masked.

“Yes?” I answered, my voice sounding a bit hoarse.

“Miss Martinez.” He met my gaze with a serious expression. “My name is Julian Blackwood. I’d like to have a moment with you, please.”

Panic hit me instantly. My heart began racing. I had stepped out of Sofia’s room only minutes ago. Had something happened in the few moments I’d been away?

“Wait—a-are you from the doctor? Is something wrong? My sister—” My voice broke. “Is she okay?”

“Relax,” he said calmly. “Your sister is fine. She’s going to be fine, I assure you.”

He sounded certain. Too certain for a stranger.

“Wait—” Confused, I moved a step back. “Who are you again?”

“Julian. Julian Blackwood. We haven’t met before.”

“But you know me… How do you know my name?”

“Can we talk somewhere quieter?”

I scoffed, impatient. “Look, Mr., I don’t know who you are or what you want from me. But as you can see, this isn’t a good time, and the last thing I feel like doing at the moment is talking!”

That sounded harsh, but I couldn’t help it. My pain and frustrations were eating at me so badly that I just wanted to be left alone to cry in peace.

“I understand.”

He didn’t flinch at my tone. He didn’t look offended. Rather, something like compassion flickered in his eyes as fresh tears slipped down my face.

“I don’t mean to be a bother, Lena,” he said quietly. “I just want to help.”

My eyes snapped back to his at the sound of my first name on his lips. “How do you know my name?”

“I know much more than your name, Lena Martinez,” he continued, taking a step closer, but making sure not to come too close. “I know where you live, where you work. I know you’re the daughter of Isabella Martinez. Your sister, Sofia—she needs urgent surgery. Surgery that costs a lot of money.”

I froze at his revelation, my eyes widening more and more with each fact he stated.

“I can give you the money—all of it.”

“What?” Shock barely covered what I felt. At this point, I didn’t know whether to be happy or terrified. Just who was this man, and where had he come from?

“I can make sure your sister gets the surgery done immediately. With the best doctors in this hospital.”

My mind struggled to catch up with what he was saying.

This didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.

“Why?” I asked, confused. “What do you want—in exchange?”

There was no way this was free. Angels didn’t wear Tom Ford suits. There was definitely a catch, and it wasn’t something I was going to like.

Julian glanced briefly towards the emergency entrance where an ambulance was pulling in, then looked back at me.

“Give me five minutes of your undivided attention. Not here—someplace quiet. If after five minutes you’re not interested in my offer, you can walk away.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air as he studied my face, waiting for my answer.

My mind raced, thinking about everything.

Sofia.

Forty-eight hours.

One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

My throat went dry. “Y-you’re sure about this? This isn’t a game? You’re not messing with me, are you?”

His gaze held mine, unwavering. “Miss Martinez, I didn’t come all the way from New York to play games with you. I mean every word I said. Trust me. You could make the right choice now and save your sister’s life.”

My heart hammered against my chest. Something about him—the certainty, the way he said it—made my mind teeter on the edge of desperation.

I wanted to ask more questions, demand more explanation. But deep down, I knew I didn’t have the luxury of doubt or time. Sofia was counting on me. She was counting on her big sister to save her life. And that was all that mattered.

In sudden determination, I took a deep breath, wiped my face and nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” Something unreadable flickered in his eyes before he turned, leading the way. “Come with me.”