CHAPTER 3 : THE HEART OF THE MATTER

The hospital smells like antiseptic and fear, a sterile assault that burns my nose as I sit in the waiting room, my hands twisting in my lap. The lights buzz overhead, too bright, making the clock’s ticking feel louder than normal in my skull. It’s 8:47 a.m., hours since Dad’s heart attack turned our world upside down. Mom’s beside me, her eyes red-rimmed, clutching a tissue like it’s a lifeline. Her dark hair, usually neat, is a mess, and her whispered prayers in our island’s dialect fill the silence. I want to comfort her, but my own heart’s pounding, stuck on Dad’s ashen face, his hand gripping mine as the paramedics wheeled him away.

“Scarlett,” Mom says, her voice hoarse. “He’ll be okay. He has to be.”

I nod, but my throat’s too tight to speak. The image of Dad slumped in his recliner, gasping, won’t leave me. Lee Family Kitchen, their dream, our anchor, it’s killing him. The fifty-thousand-dollar debt to Blackwood Industries, the interest piling up, the foreclosure looming it’s all too much for him to handle. And Noah Thorne’s voice, cold and commanding, haunts me: One year, Scarlett. Five million buys freedom. Marry a stranger, save my family. I told Mom and Dad no last night, fought them with every ounce of my 26-year-old defiance, but now? With Dad fighting for his life? I’m not so sure. Maybe if I had accepted it immediately this would not have happened, I probably would be making breakfast for a random guy right now but here I am, in a hospital, not sure if my father will be alright. 

A doctor in blue scrubs approaches, his face calm but serious. My stomach lurches as Mom grabs my hand, her nails digging in.

“Mrs. Lee, Miss Lee,” the doctor says, glancing at her clipboard. “I’m Dr. Patel. Your husband, your father…” he glanced at me

“is stable for now. It was a minor heart attack, but his condition is fragile. His chronic stress and previous cardiac history are concerns. We’re recommending immediate treatment, a stent procedure, and ongoing care. It’s costly, but it’ll give him the best chance.”

Mom’s sob breaks free, and I feel it in my chest. The pain you get when things don't go according to olaia d everything falls apart. 

“How costly?” I ask, my voice steady despite the 

panic clawing inside.

Dr. Patel hesitates. “With surgery, hospital stay, and follow-up, you’re looking at upwards of eighty thousand dollars. Insurance may cover part, but…”

Eighty thousand. On top of the restaurant’s debt. My vision blurs, and I grip the armrest to stay grounded. Mom’s crying softly, murmuring, “We can’t lose him, Scarlett. We can’t.”

“I know, Mama,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. 

“We’ll figure it out.” I try to comfort even if I had no idea how I would get such an amount of money. Even earning an amount like that felt illegal to me. 

But how? My design gigs barely cover my rent, let alone this. The restaurant’s bleeding us dry but Noah’s contract could pay everything, five million would mean debt cleared for me and my business funded completely. I shake my head, shoving it away. I’m not that desperate. Not yet.

Dr. Patel leads us to Dad’s room in the ICU. He’s awake, propped up in bed, an oxygen mask fogging with each breath. His eyes, warm despite the pain, find mine. “Letty” he rasps, using my nickname. “You okay?”

I force a smile, my heart cracking. “I’m fine, Dad. You focus on getting better. We're here for you”

He nods, but his gaze is heavy, like he knows the cost of his survival. Mom sits beside him, stroking his hand, and I step back, needing air. In the hallway, I lean against the wall, my breath shaky. The contract’s still in my bag, tucked there since last night’s meeting at Blackwood Tower. I haven’t looked at it, because I wasn't even considering it. I bring out from my bag and I go through it now, scanning my eyes through the benefits but making sure that the cost is completely worth it. 

My phone buzzes, startling me. An unknown number. I answer, my voice sharp. “Who’s this?”

“Miss Lee,” a familiar clipped voice says, Gerald Crane, Noah’s lawyer from yesterday. 

“Mr. Thorne is awaiting your decision. He expects an answer by noon.”

I bristle, my defiance flaring. “I told him I need time. My dad’s in the hospital. I’m not thinking about your boss’s games right now.”

A pause, then Crane’s tone cools. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. But Mr. Thorne’s offer is time-sensitive. The merger with LinCorp depends on it. You're expected to be there by 1PM “

I grip the phone, anger boiling. “You’re heartless. Tell Thorne I’m not his pawn.”

“Very well,” Crane says, unfazed. “But consider the consequences. Your family’s debt, your father’s health and your business, Mr. Thorne’s proposal could resolve both. Noon, Miss Lee.”

He hangs up, and I want to scream. 

This Thorne guy obviously doesn't know when to stop, using my situation to manipulate me emotionally to accept his proposal. Dad’s heart attack, Mom’s tears, the bills piling up. I slide down the wall, crouching in the sterile hallway, my head in my hands. Noah Thorne, with his chiseled jaw and icy gray eyes, thinks he can buy me. But Mom’s words from last night echo: In our culture, family comes first. She and Dad left their island, built a life here for me. Can I really say no when it could save them?

Back in Dad’s room, Mom’s praying again, her voice a soft chant. I sit beside her, watching Dad sleep, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Mama,” I say quietly, “if I do this, marry him, will it be enough? For Dad, for the restaurant?”

Her eyes meet mine, glistening with hope and guilt. “It’s more than enough. It’s a future, you only sacrifice one year for all of us.”

I swallow hard, my defiance crumbling. “I don’t even know him. He’s a stranger.”

“But he’s a way out,” she says, squeezing my hand. 

“One year. You’re strong, Scarlett. You can do this.”

I look at Dad, his face pale but peaceful, and something breaks inside me. My dreams, my design firm and my independence feel small against his life. 

Against their dream. I pull the contract from my bag, its pages crisp and cold. The words blur: marriage… confidentiality… penalties. A cage, but maybe the only way to keep us whole.

“I’ll meet him again,” I say, my voice barely audible. 

“This afternoon. I’ll hear him out.”

Mom pulls me into a hug, her tears soaking my shoulder. “Thank you, Scarlett. For us.”

I nod, but my stomach churns. 

“Alright mom, but I can't promise you that anything yet mom.” I told her

I text Crane: 3 p.m. Blackwood Tower. I’ll be there. 

I know he said 1 p.m but I can be stubborn at times and I'm not his pawn he can push anywhere he wants. My finger hovers over the send button, my heart screaming to run. But Dad’s monitors beep steadily, a reminder of what’s at stake.

As I hit send, a nurse rushes into the room, her face tense. “Mrs. Lee, Miss Lee, we need you to step out. His heart rate’s spiking again.”

Mom gasps, and I freeze, my phone slipping from my hand. “What’s happening?” I demand, my voice shaking.

“We’re stabilizing him,” the nurse says, ushering us out. “Stay calm, please.”

The door closes, leaving us in the hallway, Mom clinging to me. My world narrows to the beeping monitors, the fear that Dad might not make it. Noah’s deal, his money, his power looms like a lifeline I can’t ignore.

 It just keeps getting harder plus I wasn't sure if dad will make it out safely and I'd have to pay for the surgery. I clean

ed the tears from my eyes and walked out the door determined to brave all odds.