Three days

---

The reflection of the sun through the window across my face woke me up.

The bed was cold and rumpled from last night. My head was pounding, my body aching. I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest, and looked around.

The room was a mess. My dress on the floor, his shirt draped over the chair, the sheets tangled and twisted. Evidence of what had happened.

But he was gone.

I swung my legs out of bed and walked to the living room. Empty. The bathroom. Empty. The kitchen. Empty.

He'd left a note on the counter. Just a few words in sharp, precise handwriting:

Had to leave.-D

I stared at the note. My hands were shaking. My head was spinning.

D?

I tried to remember. The bar. The whiskey. A man. A handsome man with dark hair and piercing eyes. We'd talked, laughed or I was the one laughing. Then I kissed me.

But his face... I couldn't quite place it.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to force the memory. But it was fragments. A cologne I recognized. A voice that sounded familiar. A name I'd called out in the heat of the moment.

Damien.

No. That couldn't be right. Damien Black? My biggest competitor? The man I hated more than anyone in the world?

I wouldn't have. I couldn't have.

I sank onto the couch,the same couch where we'd.. I couldn't think about it. Couldn't remember his hands on me, his voice in my ear, the way he'd made me feel.

I must have been really drunk. So drunk I imagined it was someone else. So drunk I called him a name that wasn't his.

It had to be a random stranger. Someone who looked vaguely familiar. Someone who'd taken advantage of a drunk woman and left before she woke up.

I felt sick.

I stumbled to the bathroom and vomited. Then I stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, trying to scrub away the memory of hands on my skin.

When I got out, I threw the note in the trash. I didn't want to look at it. Didn't want to be reminded of the shameful, reckless thing I'd done.

I dressed quickly. I needed to get out of this apartment. I grabbed my keys and walked out the door and headed to the hospital.

*****

I had never hated silence more than in that hospital room, where every breath felt too loud.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only proof that my father was still alive. At least barely. His pale, fragile face was nothing like the man who once filled the boardrooms with his booming voice and ruthless presence. The same man who became my greatest cheerleader after my mom died and trained me to stand on my own feet.

I remember being in the fourth grade, crying over a scraped knee like the world had ended. Dad carried me home on his back, cleaned the wound himself, and joked until I laughed through the tears. It was such a small thing but to me it meant the world.

The nurse walked in on me smiling painfully to myself with tears in my eyes. I wiped the tears from my face.

"Visiting hours are almost over." the nurse said gently

"I just need a minute."

"Alright," she said as she left.

I looked down at my dad.

"You know you used to be my best friend. You still are. So get well soon, get well for me, I'm barely holding up." I said sniffing through my words.

I sat on the chair beside his bed, clutching his frail hand like I could squeeze life back into it. “You remember the song you made up for me. Gosh,you were terrible at composing or even rhymes." I said, laughing so hard I almost cried . "But you didn't care. You made it and sang it to me every night until I fell asleep, whenever I was sad, you would sing it to me with the nickname you gave me.

" Lily dear, now don't you dare

To think that I don't care

Because my love for you is unparalleled, we are infinite and I'll love you till infinity.

My little l-oll-i-p-opp..." I started singing, before I could finish. I allowed myself to cry clutching the infinity necklace he got for me on my birthday.

The doctors had called it a mild stroke but there was nothing mild about the way it had gutted me.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” I whispered, though my voice cracked halfway. “I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything. I promise. I'll make sure things are back to normal. Get well for me.”

But I wasn’t sure if I believed my own words. Since his stroke, confidence in Rivera Enterprise has started to crumble. Most of our clients trusted him personally and the board wasn't convinced that I could replace him.

I let out a heavy sigh. As I walked out of the hospital room my phone buzzed, apparently for the third time. It was my secretary.

"Yes, Ivy" I said as I answered.

"Alina, we lost the Barclay deal.." She blurted, her voice trembling "You need to come in.."

"What?" I whispered but deep down I wasn't really surprised.

Barclay had been one of my father's biggest software clients. Losing them meant millions in contracts disappearing overnight.

"I tried my best to keep them." Ivy added “But his mind was made up . He said he'd rather look for another firm that could guarantee profit." she said disappointed.

I pinched the tip of my nose, frustrated. " I'm on my way. Call the bank. I want a loan proposal ready.”

"Alright, I'll do just that. Drive safe," she said softly.

" Yeah," I said as I hung up.

"Fuck!" The word tore out of me, echoing down the sterile corridor, my hands trembling through my hair. For the first time in my life, I had no plan, no way out, just panic clawing at me.

I increased my pace as I made my way to the parking lot.

The walk to the car park felt long. Each step echoed off the concrete walls. The air changed from sterile and warm to damp and cold. My heels clicked against the ramp as I descended. The few cars scattered across the level looked like sleeping animals.

My car was in the corner spot. I opened it, slid into the driver’s seat, and shut the door. For a moment, I just sat there with my head on the steering wheel. The hospital towered above me through the windshield. Somewhere up there, my father’s chest was rising and falling without him.

I turned the key. The sound of the engine brought me back to reality.

As I pulled out of the parking space and headed for the exit ramp, my mind started to splinter. Half of me was still back in that room, wondering if he could hear me leaving. The other half was already drafting the damage-control email, calculating how much revenue we’d just lost, running through the list of clients who might follow Barcley out the door.

The guilt came first. Heavy and sharp. What kind of daughter leaves her father in a coma to go save a company? Then the anger, at Barclay,at my father for getting sick and leaving me to clean up his mess. And underneath it all, a small, shameful pulse of relief.

I reached the tollbooth at the garage exit. The attendant waved me through. I didn't wave back.

On the highway, the rain started. I didn't turn on the wipers right away. The world blurred into streaks of red taillights and white lines. My phone buzzed again, three texts in a row but I didn't look.

I thought about the last thing I’d said to my father before he lost consciousness. It wasn't anything important. Something about dinner. Something ordinary. And now he was gone inside his own body, and I was driving away from him to fight a fire he’d spent thirty years making sure never started. Behind me, the hospital shrank to a speck in the mirror. Every red light made me more anxious.

Within minutes, Rivera Enterprise came into view with its bold sign glowing in the dark and glass tower reflecting the night’s light. I swallowed hard. This was my father's legacy. His life. But unless I found a way out it would be dead in no time. And I wasn't going to allow that to happen. I needed a miracle.

I made it up to the elevator. As the elevator door chimed open I saw Ivy. She was already waiting for me.

"The banks?" I asked sharply.

"Yes. They said they'll be processing it.” she said, pressing her fingertips together repeatedly. A habit she had mastered whenever she was nervous.

"Alright," I muttered as I headed towards my office.

"And ma'am.. you have a visitor " she added carefully. " He's waiting inside."

I didn't bother asking who it was. My mind was too overwhelmed to care.

But as I pushed the office door I was shocked to see who it was.

Damien Black sat behind my desk.

The CEO of Blackstone Holdings who has been trying to destroy Rivera Enterprise for years. Of all the people in the world, Damien Black was the last man I expected to see tonight.

He sat on my chair as if it belonged to him, clicking his hands gently on the table. His broad shoulders blocked the light streaming in from the windows. He was taller than I remembered, broad-shouldered and more masculine than he looked in the magazines. Dark hair brushed carelessly over his forehead, and his sharp jawline made him look like he had been carved from stone. And those eyes, cold. Observant, predatory. When he noticed someone entering, his gaze lifted slowly, pinning me to the spot with the kind of calm arrogance that could dismantle someone.

My pulse jumped, confusion and irritation tangling together. His firm was one of our fiercest competitors-what the hell was he doing here?! And in my office?..

“What the hell are you doing in my office?” I blurted out angrily.

"Careful. Word travels fast.” he replied mockingly, leaning back like he owned the room.” “Your father's stroke. Your company is losing clients. It's been an interesting week for Rivera’s Enterprise.”

I didn’t ask how. News traveled fast in our world, especially bad news. I walked towards my desk. “What do you want, Damien?”

He tilted his head, feigning hurt. “Is that any way to talk to someone who came to help?”

I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms. “You’ve never helped anyone unless it helped you more.”

He laughed softly. “Fair enough.” He stood up,stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne. Then I froze.

That fragrance,it was familiar with the man of last night. No I couldn't be. I wouldn't.

“Here’s the truth. Your company is bleeding. Barclay was your anchor client. Without them, the board will eat you alive within six months. Unless you have a partner. A real partner. Someone with capital, connections, and a vested interest in keeping your father’s legacy intact.”

My stomach tightened. “And you’re that someone.”

“I am.” He let the words hang. “ Well just in case you haven't had time to check out the newspapers. " he slid a folded newspaper across the desk.

The headlines read;

Damien Black sued for sexual misconduct by a former employee.

Playboy billionaire under scrutiny as lawsuit gains traction.

Is Damien Black too reckless to be trusted with family investments?

“And those aren't good for my reputation” he added slowly.

“And how has all these got to do with me?!” I asked confused at what was happening.

“Marry me. Not a merger. Not a loan. Marriage. You and me. I save your company, you keep your father’s name on the door.We combine forces. The marriage gives me the cover I need. Everyone wins.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The fluorescent lights seemed to hum louder. I stared at him. At his perfectly tailored suit. At the slight curl of his lips, like he already knew my answer. Like he’d been waiting years for this moment.

Then the heat started in my chest,a slow burn that moved up my throat and into my face. Anger, yes. But also something colder. Disgust.

“You came to my office,” I said slowly, “the week my father lies in a coma, the day I lost my biggest client, and you think I’m going to say yes to that and get involved in your shit?!.”

He didn’t flinch. “I think you’re going to think about it. And let's not pretend you need me more than I do you because I’m the only one in this city who can give you what you need right now. Not a loan you can’t repay. Not a partnership you can’t trust. Me.”

I laughed. It came out sharp and hollow. “You want to marry me or own me?”

“Is there a difference?” He smiled again, but his eyes stayed cold.

I walked to the door. Opened it. “Get out!!.”

He didn’t move right away. He studied me for a long second, like he was saving my expression for later. Then he straightened his cuffs and walked toward me. He paused in the doorway, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“You have three days,” he said quietly. “Then I start calling your board members. One by one. You can either be standing next to me when I do, or across the table from me in a lawsuit. Begging, just like you did last night.”

He winked and with that, he left.

I stood there completely lost. It had been Damien!.