"Baby, did you go to my office yesterday?"
Kiero’s voice sounded calm, almost casual, but I caught the faint edge in his tone. My grip tightened on the phone. I forced myself to sound equally nonchalant. "Why do you ask?"
"There was a wheelchair left in the hallway outside my office," he said. "It looked just like yours."
I let out a soft laugh, feigning innocence. "Why would I leave my wheelchair when I’m using it?"
There was a pause, and I could almost hear him piecing things together. Finally, he said, "Right. Makes sense."
"Is there something else you wanted?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"How’s your condition?" he asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.
I hesitated. For a brief moment, I considered telling him the truth—that I could walk now, that I no longer needed the wheelchair. But the memory of him with Arielle, their whispered betrayal, stopped me.
"No change," I said, the lie rolling off my tongue with ease. "Still the same."
He sighed softly. "I’m sorry, baby. I know how hard it’s been for you."
"Yeah," I murmured. "It has."
There was a pause, then I asked, "Can we spend some time together today? Maybe dinner or a movie?"
"I wish I could," he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "But I’ll be busy all day. Let’s move it to another time, okay?"
I swallowed my bitterness and forced a smile he couldn’t see. "Sure, Kiero. Another time."
The call ended, leaving me alone with the weight of my thoughts.
But I couldn’t let it rest. Not anymore.
Hours later, I found myself inside the hospital for my daily check-up. As I made my way toward the hallways, I heard familiar voices.
“Oh, gosh. I’m so excited for our baby.”
Arielle.
“Yes, me too!” Kiero responded.
So this is the reason why he was busy. I was too naive. I thought all those busy nights of Kiero were really about his business, only realizing it was because of Arielle.
At first, I tried to ignore the signs, thinking that it was because Arielle is family and they are close that’s why Arielle is present in our events. Not knowing I was actually the thirdwheel in their relationship.
The sight of them walking toward the OBGYN clinic made my stomach churn. Arielle placed a protective hand over her stomach, and Kiero’s hand brushed against hers in a way that felt far too familiar.
The betrayal burned hotter than ever.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
Back in my apartment, I paced the floor, my mind racing. My gaze fell on the contract still sitting on the table. Reagan Collins. Giving him son? I think that’s better than living with lies.
I grabbed my phone, and dialed his number.
He answered on the second ring. "Stephanie."
"We need to get married," I said. "As soon as possible."
There was a brief pause. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I said, my jaw tightening. "I’m sure."
"Alright," Reagan said. "I’ll make the arrangements. Be ready."
The following morning, I was up early, pacing my small apartment. A knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. I peered through the peephole and saw a man in a crisp black suit standing outside.
“Miss Brown?” he asked as I opened the door.
“Yes.”
“I’m here to take you to Mr. Collins.”
I hesitated for a moment, then grabbed my bag and stepped outside. As I followed the man, I expected to see a standard car waiting for me. Instead, parked at the curb was a sleek black limousine, polished to a mirror-like shine.
A limousine.
My breath caught as I stared at it. The door was already open, and I caught a glimpse of the luxurious interior—leather seats, crystal glasses, and a small bar built into the side. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man would send a limousine for a deal like this.
As I settled into the plush seat, the realization hit me. Reagan Collins wasn’t just rich. He was really rich.
The name Collins rang in my head, tugging at a distant memory. Where had I heard it before?
The answer came in a rush. Kiero had mentioned it once during one of his drunken ramblings. Collins. Not just a businessman. Not just a powerful figure.
A mafia boss. And I got myself a deal with him?
