CHAPTER FOUR

Evelyn didn’t sleep.

At 6:17 a.m., she was already in the kitchen when Miranda walked in, hair perfect, smile sharp enough to cut.

“You’re up early,” Miranda said, pouring coffee like she owned the air itself. “Planning another miracle?”

Evelyn kept her voice flat. “The hospital still hasn’t received the money.”

Miranda’s spoon clinked against the mug. “Then I suppose your father stays on the waiting list. These things happen.”

“You took it.”

The words left Evelyn’s mouth before she could stop them. Miranda turned slowly, eyes glittering.

“Careful, little girl. Accusations like that can make a dying man’s last days very uncomfortable.” She stepped closer. “I control the accounts. I control the medication. I control whether the nurses keep coming. Remember that the next time you feel brave.”

Evelyn’s hands shook at her sides. In the bedroom, the oxygen machine hissed, steady and fragile. She thought of Damian’s offer. Six months. Enough money to remove Miranda from the equation entirely.

She walked into her room, locked the door, and typed three letters.

Yes.

The reply came instantly.

Oliver will meet you at 10 a.m. with the contract and the first transfer. Pack what you need. A car will take you to the apartment after.

At 9:58 a.m., a black SUV stopped outside the building. Oliver Hayes stepped out, tall, efficient, kind eyes behind professional calm. He handed her a tablet.

“Read carefully. Everything is standard. Non-disclosure. Exclusivity. Public appearances as required. Housing provided. Medical expenses for your father covered in full from the first payment. You can walk away at any time with thirty days’ notice, but the financial support continues for the full six months either way.”

Evelyn scrolled. The numbers made her dizzy. She signed with a fingertip that barely felt like her own.

Oliver nodded once. “Welcome to the arrangement, Miss Hart. Mr. Kingsley will see you this evening.”

The apartment they took her to was on the thirty-second floor of a quiet Upper East Side building. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Soft gray furniture. A kitchen she would never have to share. A closet already stocked with clothes in her size. On the counter sat a single black credit card and a note in Damian’s handwriting:

Use it. No limits. No explanations needed. ~Damian.

She stood in the center of the living room and felt the silence press against her skin. For the first time in years, no one was screaming. No one was taking what little she had. It should have felt like safety. Instead, it felt like standing on the edge of something that could destroy her completely.

That evening a second car brought her to Kingsley Global. Oliver led her up a private elevator to the top floor. Damian was waiting in his office, sleeves rolled to the elbows, ice-blue eyes unreadable.

“You look tired,” he said.

“So do you.”

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Sit.”

She sat. He remained standing, looking down at her with that same careful intensity from the hotel.

“Rules are simple,” he said. “In public, you are the woman I’m seeing. You smile for cameras. You stay close. You let me handle the press. In private, you have your own space, your own schedule. School continues. Your father’s care is already being transferred to the best team in the city. Miranda no longer has access to any of it.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened. “How did you…”

“I have people who fix problems.” He paused. “She won’t touch him again.”

The quiet certainty in his voice almost undid her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Damian’s gaze held hers. “Because I meant what I said. You’re the first person who didn’t look at me and see a transaction. I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

He walked her to the door himself. At the threshold he stopped, close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne.

“One more thing,” he said, voice low. “Don’t fall in love with me. I’m not built for it.”

Evelyn met his eyes and lied with perfect calm.

“I won’t.”

She rode the elevator down alone, the contract already binding her to a man who had just warned her not to want him, while every cell in her body remembered exactly how it felt to be wanted by him for one unforgettable night.

Outside, the city lights blurred. Her phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number, Victoria Ashford’s name already attached by Oliver’s security team as a “person of interest.”

*Pretty little thing. Enjoy the borrowed clothes while they last. He always comes back to his own kind.*

Evelyn stared at the screen until the words burned.

The game had already begun. And she had just stepped onto a board where every move could cost her everything she had left.