I burst through the ER double doors. Mom sat slumped against the pale green wall outside Surgery Room B.
"Mom."
She jumped, her head snapping up. Her eyes were swollen, red, and completely hollow. She grabbed my hands the second I reached her.
"Winnie, they won't proceed," she choked out. "The front desk needs a deposit for the dialysis and the transplant waitlist. They know about the bankruptcy."
"How much?" I asked.
"Fifty thousand. Just to start."
I swallowed hard. My bank account held maybe three hundred dollars.
"I'll get it," I told her. "I won't let him die."
"From where?" Mom sobbed. Her fingers dug into my wrists. "The creditors took the house. They took the cars. We have nothing left."
"I'll figure it out. Stay here."
I paced down the sterile corridor, pulling out my phone. I hated myself for doing this. I hated him. But I had no one else to ask. Kevin had a massive trust fund. He had offered to pay off my dad's debts a year ago, back when I still believed his promises. I had refused then. I couldn't refuse now.
I dialed his number. It rang three times.
"Hello?" A high, sweet voice answered.
My stomach dropped. "Put Kevin on the phone, Lisa."
"Kevin's phone is right here with me," she chirped. The sound of a television blared in the background.
"This is an emergency. My dad is in the hospital. I need to talk to him."
Lisa laughed, a sharp, grating sound. "We're playing a game, Winnie. He's a little tied up right now."
"Lisa, please. It's life or death. I just need a loan."
"You should have thought about that before you screamed at him in front of the whole class."
"Give him the phone!"
"Oops. Battery's dying. Bye, birthday girl."
The line went dead.
I stared at the black screen. I dialed again. Voicemail.
My knees gave out. I sank to the linoleum floor, pressing my back against the cold wall.
Tears spilled over my eyelashes. I buried my face in my hands. Fifty thousand dollars. I could sell my organs and still not have it by tonight. My dad was going to die because I was useless. A pathetic, broke college student who poured drinks for tips.
I sobbed, pulling at the roots of my hair. The hospital announcements buzzed overhead, a cruel reminder that life moved on while mine fell apart.
A shadow fell over me.
I didn't look up. "Please, just leave me alone," I choked out.
"A rather poor greeting for a man who holds your solution."
The voice was deep, smooth, and terrifyingly calm. The same voice from the VIP room. The same voice from the phone call this morning.
I raised my head. A pair of polished, black leather oxfords stood inches from my sneakers. My gaze traveled up the sharp crease of tailored charcoal trousers, stopping at a perfectly buttoned suit jacket.
Vance Harrison stared down at me.
He didn't look like a man visiting a hospital. He looked like he owned the building.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, wiping my wet cheeks.
"I followed you," Vance stated. He didn't even try to hide it. "You ran out of the university courtyard quite fast."
"You stalked me?"
"I kept an eye on an investment." He pulled a silver cigarette case from his pocket, flipped it open, then shut it again without taking one. "The front desk is holding your father's surgery hostage over fifty thousand dollars."
"How do you know that?"
"I know everything that happens in this city, Winnie."
I pushed myself up from the floor. My legs shook, but I forced myself to stand tall. "Did you come here to mock me? To demand your lip gloss back?"
"I came to make a deal."
Vance stepped closer. The scent of expensive cedar and cold mint wrapped around me.
"I can pay your father's medical bills," he said, his tone entirely conversational. "In full. I will also clear the two million in debt your family owes, and inject enough capital to bring your father's company back to life."
I stared at him. The words didn't make sense. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I can."
"Nobody just gives away millions of dollars to a club waitress."
"I am not giving it away." Vance tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "I am purchasing something."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What do you want? I don't have anything."
"You have exactly what I need."
"I'm not sleeping with you for money."
Vance actually smiled. It was a small, cold curve of his lips. "I don't pay for women. I want a legal, binding contract."
"What kind of contract?"
"Marry me."
The corridor spun. I gripped the railing on the wall to keep from falling. "Excuse me?"
"Marry me, Winnie. Become my wife on paper. Move into my house. Play the part for my family."
"You're insane. We met yesterday."
"Time is irrelevant. My grandfather is restructuring the Harrison trust. He requires me to be settled. Married." He checked a heavy gold watch on his wrist. "You need money. I need a wife who won't ask questions. It is a perfect transaction."
"Marriage isn't a transaction!"
"Everything is a transaction." Vance stepped into my space. He forced me to tilt my chin up to maintain eye contact. "Your father has perhaps two hours before his organs shut down completely. Say yes, and the surgeons start cutting. Say no, and you can start planning a funeral. Choose."
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
Before I could answer, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. A man in a gray suit jogged toward us.
"Mr. Harrison," the man said, stopping a few feet away. He glanced at me, then quickly looked back at his boss.
"Is it handled, Elias?" Vance asked.
"Yes, sir. The VIP wing is prepped." Elias clutched a manila folder tightly against his chest.
The edge of a white paper stuck out from the folder. My eyes darted to the bold black letters printed across the top.
*Post-Heart Transplant Follow-up.*
Elias noticed my gaze. He shoved the paper deep into the folder, snapping it shut. He stepped forward quickly, putting his body between me and the documents.
"The doctors are waiting for your signature, sir," Elias added, his voice tight.
Vance didn't look at the folder. He kept his dark, unreadable eyes fixed entirely on me.
"Well, Winnie?" Vance murmured. "Do we have a deal?"
