Chapter 5

Hannah’s eyes widened. Disbelief clutched her chest as she stared at the man before her, a stranger, really. He barely knew anything about her. Just the surface. Just the broken edges she'd let slip.

And yet… he was ready to stand in for her.

Why?

She clenched her fists at her sides. No. She wouldn’t drag anyone else into her mess. Especially not someone she didn't know.

Her gaze flicked to his wristwatch: sleek, heavy, expensive. She thought the man had power, clearly. Maybe he had connections. Getting her a job and accommodations wouldn't be difficult for him; that would be enough.

“If you want to help, just get me a shelter and a job,” she said quietly, almost testing him.

Without blinking, he said, “Shelter done. As for the job, you won’t need it.”

She frowned, Why?”

A slow smirk crept across his face. “Because I create jobs.”

A sneer escaped Hannah's lips, causing the pain she was feeling to intensify.

She wanted to talk to the man she considered a clown before her, but the words refused to come out of her mouth. She stared at him with a questioning look.

Matthew's voice was low and cold, “Because I’m Matthew Delacruz.”

The name struck her like a blow; her heart raced frantically in her chest.

Matthew Delacruz.

The man whose name alone could shake the country.

She had heard the stories of her being ruthless, cold, and untouchable. A man who didn’t bend for anyone despite having many enemies.

And here, he stood before her… offering a way out.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

She stared at her hand, thinking of the slap she had given him earlier, and her heart skipped, and her brain was empty with fear. If she had known he was the one, she would have done that. She felt like the ground should open and swallow her as she closed her eyes.

“Marry me,” Mathew said.

Hannah’s head jerked up, eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

Mathew, no, she couldn't believe he would say that despite the rumour about him that he hated women. Is this not another punishment for her? And no one dared say no to his request!

“You deserve a thousand times more than what they took from you. Let me help you make them pay.”

Then something snapped in her.

She had seen Matthew Delacruz’s picture before — not once, but multiple times. Everyone had. The man was practically a myth, rarely seen without a wall of reporters swarming around him.

And the rumours…

They said he was impotent. That he hated women. That he was cold, untouchable, and dangerous beyond reason.

Why would that man offer her marriage?

She looked at the stranger before her; he was more like a clown to her, handsome, yes. Handsome in an effortless, clean-cut kind of way. But not the breathtaking, devil-in-a-suit figure Matthew was said to be.

She let out a low, amused laugh. Then signal to Mathew to move forward.

She tilted his chin up gently with two fingers.

“Posing as Matthew Delacruz might get you nothing but trouble,” she said, her tone like silk hiding a blade.

“You’re not bad to look at. But Matthew?” Her smile tightened. “He’s sinfully dangerous. If you value your life, you’ll take his name out of your mouth.”

She threw her face away, staring at the white wall.

Matthew sensitively touched his face, and then a smirk appeared on his mouth when he realised his disguise was still on his face. That was why she couldn't identify her.

Matthew had escaped normal life since his picture was flying across the media as the most successful tech mogul six months ago. He couldn't go out without bodyguards.

“Would you have accepted my offer if I were Matthew?”

“I have neither rejected nor accepted your offer, but trust me, it would have been good if you were Mathew, because I want my ex and my best mistake ever to pay for their crime.”

“Alright then, but I'm Mathew.”

“No one disputes that. Anyone can be Matthew. But Delacruz?” She scoffed. “That name isn’t for just anyone. Better to appreciate your godly looks than call yourself that demon.”

Matthew’s jaw clenched. The smirk he’d worn seconds ago drained from his face.

He stared at the woman who’d just called him a demon—to his face—and when their eyes met, Hannah offered a faint, mocking smile, as if daring him to react.

But he didn’t. He held her gaze, calm… quiet… disbelieving.

She’s going to be a handful, he thought.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen, lips thinning into a sharp line.

“I need to go,” he said.

The door swung open, and the doctor stepped in with a clipboard in his hand.

“Miss, these are the prescriptions. They’ll speed up your healing. But...” He hesitated. “If you don’t take them seriously, the damage may be permanent. You might never have children.”

Hannah’s body went still. Her eyes widened, her hand instinctively covering her abdomen.

The doctor tore the page free and handed it to her.

Before she could respond, Matthew stepped forward and snatched the note from her hands. His eyes scanned it, then hardened like steel.

“Give her everything she needs. I don’t care about the cost,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “If my woman loses the ability to bear children, I’ll personally make sure you never practise medicine again.”

The doctor stiffened, nodded, and hurried out of the room.

Hannah’s heart pounded. My woman. He said it like it was already true.

Then he turned to her, gaze steady and cold, like something behind his eyes had shifted.

The look sent a chill down Hannah's spine.

“You don’t have to believe who I am right now,” he said softly. “But soon... You won’t have a choice.”

Hannah swallowed hard, refusing to be intimidated. Her voice was shaky, but the edge in it held.

“I haven’t agreed to your marriage proposal. You can’t just call me that. I’m not something to be claimed.” But even to her own ears, the words sounded less certain than she wanted them to.

He didn’t argue. He just looked at her, still unreadable, for one long second too many.

“I never lose what I’ve claimed,” he said, barely above a whisper.

And somehow, that was worse than if he’d shouted.

Hannah looked away, her breath catching as something cold coiled low in her stomach.