1

North’s POV

A billionaire with an obsession for broke law students is not something you hear about often. It does not make the news, and it certainly does not come with warnings. You only learn about it when you are desperate enough. Desperate enough that dignity becomes optional. Desperate enough that survival outweighs disgust. Desperate enough that even dying feels like a luxury you cannot afford because the people you would leave behind would suffer more.

Only then do the Lucien Crowe angels find you.

Is it a rescue? Is it a trap? At that point, you no longer care. You just want to live.

“Sign here,” said the boy who had been pretending to like me for the past few weeks.

Jeremy.

He always smiled. Always found reasons to offer me food though I never accepted, I was broke but that was just on another level. He was terrible at law, painfully average, but kind. Or at least I thought he was.

When he started asking about the dark circles under my eyes, why I was losing weight so fast, I finally broke. I told him everything. The medical bills. The legal debt crushing my family. The way every day felt like running uphill with broken legs.

He did not say he was sorry.

He did not even look sympathetic.

His eyes went cold.

“I know a man who can make all your problems disappear,” he said calmly. “If you last long enough with him.”

“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

“You heard me.” His voice stayed even. “Someone so powerful that a single meeting could pay off part of your debt, even if he does not choose you.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out. He looked serious. No smile. No warmth. Just the same blank expression I had seen him wear in class when professors called on him and he did not care enough to answer.

“Hold on, bro, what are you talking about?” I tired to laugh but my  voice shook. “How do you even know someone like that? And do you understand how rich a person would have to be to fix all of this?”

I set aside the juice box he had given me. The sweetness turned bitter in my mouth, instincts screaming that something was wrong. I hate jokes involving my sitation so I felt stupid for even venting to a stranger I barely knew. I couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably.

He noticed and scoffed. Without breaking eye contact, he picked up the juice and drank it all, slowly, as if performing for me.

“My boss would kill me if I brought him an unwilling participant,” he said. “And I mean that literally. So I am not forcing you to do anything you do not want to do.”

I stared at him.

We were sitting on the grass behind the faculty building. Students in black and white suits passed by, laughing, talking about exams and internships. Everything looked normal. And yet I felt like I was the only one who noticed that Jeremy was not the harmless sheep we all thought he was.

I had a hundred questions, but only one mattered.

“What does your boss want from me?”

He smiled then. Not kindly.

“Didn’t you say you would eat shit if it paid?” he asked lightly. “Well, you will eat whatever he dishes out. The difference is that my boss is not disgusting like those potty party bastards. He prefers sexual pleasure, however extreme. Don’t worry, though. You will not die.”

He winked, like that was supposed to help.

Cold dread crawled up my spine. Goosebumps broke out across my arms. Jeremy was far too relaxed. This was not his first time. Not even close. He had done this before. God only knew how many people he had delivered.

I bit my lower lip, a nervous habit I could never break.

Jeremy glanced at my mouth and chuckled. “My boss likes it when you do that,” he said casually.

“What?”

He did not respond. Just stared ahead, as if he had not admitted that someone powerful had been watching me closely enough to notice my smallest habits.

“Who is your boss?” I asked, my throat dry, “and why me?”

“Questions, questions,” Jeremy muttered, lying back on the grass and folding his hands behind his head. “You already know my boss. You don't get to meet him until you are ready to be with him. As for why you, I don’t know. He has a thing for intelligent, struggling law students.”

The specificity made my stomach churn. I might as well have been dealing with a serial killer, and Jeremy was his well-paid hunter with an efficient, practiced method.

Things were already bad. Being murdered by a psychopath was not on my list.

I gathered my books and stood up.

“What?” Jeremy frowned, sitting up. “Are you turning down my boss’ offer?”

I smiled tightly, my vision narrowing. “Sorry, buddy. I am not gay. But thanks for the offer. Maybe if he were a woman, I would have considered it.” The only lie I could come up with.

As I walked away, I heard him call out, almost amused.

“You will be back. I will be waiting for you.”

I sped up, heart hammering. I bumped into other students, looking over my shoulder again and again. Jeremy was gone.

Panic surged.

I rushed out of the faculty building, then out of the school entirely. For the first time in years, I hailed a taxi. I was too afraid to walk to the bus stop, too afraid he would press a gun into my ribs and drag me away.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Just drive,” I said.

I looked back and saw him.

Jeremy.

He was following me.

My breathing only steadied once the university was out of sight. I slumped back against the seat, shutting my eyes, but peace did not follow.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me flinch.

“Hello, Mae,” I whispered. My mother. “...He did? Right…What are the doctors saying? Oh. I… I will be there soon.”

The phone slipped from my ear as my grip weakened. I laughed, sharp and broken, as Jeremy’s words echoed in my head.

They always come back.

I had not even made it far. My father was in a coma after a stroke, triggered when the police came to arrest him again. The hospital was demanding insurance we no longer had.

When the devil plays chess with my life, he always wins. Cruelly. Precisely.

I didn’t even know if Jeremy was telling the truth or playing some elaborate game, but I was more desperate than ever.

“Take me back to the university,” I told the driver.

Jeremy looked surprised when I returned. Amused.

“You have to be the fastest,” he said. “Most last a few weeks. You did not even last an hour.”

“I want to meet your boss,” I said.

I tried to hide my tears, but my red eyes and trembling voice betrayed me.

“Of course you do.” He smirked, hands in his pockets. “To meet my boss, you sign first. Once you sign the NDA, you receive your first payment. The rest depends on whether he likes you.”

I get paid before meeting him.

My heart raced. Maybe it would be enough to cover part of the bills. Maybe just enough to feed.

“Where do I sign?”