Chapter 3

Elliott's gaze landed on Sylvie's face again when the words came out of her mouth. It was cool and indifferent, with that particular edge of scrutiny that came with being in charge.

Sylvie's cheeks burned, but she had no room to care about embarrassment. She needed money too badly. Esther was lying in the community clinic waiting for a lifesaving treatment; she didn't have the luxury to let her pride get in the way.

Finn glanced at Elliott. When he saw that the latter had no intention of speaking, he handled it by the book. "For payment, you'll get a lump sum right after the marriage is registered. The balance will be paid when the three-year contract is up and you both file for a divorce."

As he spoke, he lifted a hand and spread his fingers. He meant five million dollars. That amount covered the contract marriage itself, plus every obligation Sylvie would be taking on for the next three years.

But Sylvie had never seen that kind of money in her life. Her eyes lit up, and she blurted out, "500,000 dollars?"

Finn's hand froze in midair.

Elliott's hand, midway through lifting his coffee, paused as well. He looked up slightly, giving Sylvie a look that could only be described as complicated.

Sylvie's heart lurched when neither of them said anything.

Crap. Had she overshot?

She rushed to explain. "I know 500,000 dollars is a lot, but I'll be in a fake marriage with Mr. Quinton for three years. I'll need to be on call for any situation, and I have to put on an act with him and care for him.

"By the end of those three years, I'll be a divorcee. I honestly don't think 500,000 dollars is too much to ask for the hit to my reputation, the mental strain, and basically three years of labor."

Finn's lips twitched. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't dare to. He instinctively looked at Elliott.

Elliott slowly set his coffee cup down, his tone mild and unreadable. "So you think three years of your life is only worth 500,000 dollars?"

Sylvie froze. Wait… had she lowballed it?

She swallowed and tried again, guessing higher. "Did you mean… five million?"

The second she said it, she mentally shook her head.

No way. Who would drop five million on a fake marriage? Either they had more money than sense, or there was something seriously wrong with them.

But if it wasn't 5 million, then what, 50,000 dollars? If it was 50,000 dollars, she might as well go break her back washing dishes at a restaurant.

Afraid they would back out, she gritted her teeth and said firmly, "I really can't go any lower than 500,000 dollars, Mr. Quinton. I'm in a bind, and I need the money fast. As long as we can get married today and the money hits my account right away, I'll agree to any conditions you want."

Finn tried and failed to keep it in. He said in a low voice, "Ms. Hart, what Mr. Quinton actually means is—"

"Finn." Elliott cut him off, his voice cool and flat. "Fine. 500,000 dollars it is."

Sylvie let out a silent breath of relief. Terrified he would change his mind, she immediately grabbed the pen and signed her name at the bottom of the agreement.

Elliott watched her. Her handwriting was neat and pretty, but every stroke landed so hard it looked like she might tear through the paper. It was like she was forcing herself forward, leaving no way out.

Elliott tucked the agreement away and stood. "Let's go."

He was tall—easily six-foot-three. The moment he stood, his broad frame blocked out most of the light in their booth.

Sylvie hurriedly grabbed her canvas bag and jogged after him.

…

By the time they reached the county clerk's office, only ten minutes remained before closing.

A staff member smiled at them. "Perfect timing. You're my last couple today."

They filled forms, signed papers, and even took commemorative photos under the staff's guidance. The whole process blurred past like a dream.

Even as the marriage certificate was pressed into her hands, Sylvie still felt dazed. Just yesterday, she'd walked away from a five-year lie. Now, she was married to a stranger… even if it was only on paper.

Elliott stood beside her, glancing down at her.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked, his voice cool and distant as always.

Sylvie snapped back to reality and handed him the marriage certificate. "No."

Regret was a luxury she couldn't afford. She didn't even have time to cry; where was she supposed to find the time to regret anything?

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from her bank. "An amount of 250,000.00 has been deposited into your account."

Sylvie stared at the string of zeroes, her eyes instantly reddening. Esther was saved.

She sniffled, forcing the tears back, then turned to the two men and said seriously, "Mr. Quinton, Mr. Davies, I need to head out first to deal with something urgent. If you need anything, just call me. I'll be there anytime."

With that, she spun around, ran to the curb, and unlocked a shared bike. She took off like the wind.

…

Elliott sat in the spacious backseat, his head lowered as he studied the marriage certificate in his hands. In the commemorative photo they'd taken, Sylvie's eyes crinkled as she smiled, though it looked a little forced.

But her eyes were still clear and guileless, like untouched snow on a mountain peak. They were untainted and free of dirt.

Finn held himself back for a long time. He finally caved at a red light. "Mr. Quinton, should we maybe make up for the remaining four and a half million?"

Elliott put the marriage certificate away, his face still impassive. "No. She asked for 500,000 dollars."

His voice held no warmth at all, even edging toward cruel.

Finn shut his mouth. Okay, then. Whatever made the boss happy.

They drove for a while before Finn risked another glance at Elliott in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Quinton, the Emersons called again just now. They want to know when you'll head back there."

Elliott didn't even look up. "I'm not."

Finn wisely changed the subject. "Then I'll drop you off at the apartment first?"

"Yeah."

Finn hesitated, then forced himself to speak up. "Dr. Lodge said the flare-ups with your vision have been more frequent lately. He advises against you going out alone."

Elliott's face went dark in an instant. "You talk too much."

Finn snapped his mouth shut, a chill racing down the back of his neck. A few seconds later, he still did his job and added, "Once Ms. Hart moves in tomorrow, I'll go over all the care instructions with her. As for your eyes…"

"She doesn't need to know." Elliott leaned back, his expression turning to ice. "She just needs to stick to the contract."

…

By the time Sylvie hurried to the community clinic with the antitoxin, it was already past midnight.

Once the medicine was in Esther's system, the tight crease between her brows finally eased. Her breathing evened out, too.

Only then did Sylvie's own heart settle. She sank into the chair by the bed, boneless with exhaustion. She pulled out her phone, jolting upright the second she saw the screen.

At some point, her phone had gone to silent mode. The notification center was filled with missed calls and messages.

Finn had sent her the apartment's location. "Ms. Hart, this is the address of the apartment under Mr. Quinton's name. Please move in by 9:00 am tomorrow."

The text had come in two hours ago.

Sylvie hurriedly replied, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Davies. I only just saw this. I'll be there on time tomorrow."

After she sent the text, her eyes drifted to another chat.

Joe.

She stared at the name for a long time, then let out a bitter laugh and tapped it open.

"Are you seriously breaking up with me over a lie about my identity?

"Last night isn't what you think. I can explain. There's nothing like that between Michelle and me.

"Where are you? Pick up your phone!

"Are you doing this just to spite me?

"You know exactly what kind of situation you're in. Threatening me with a breakup won't do you any good.

"Don't take this too far, Sylvie!"

Sylvie read each message, her stomach churning with disgust. Jonah was accusing her of taking this too far? Who was actually taking things too far here?

She just couldn't wrap her head around it. How did the Joe who used to be so gentle and thoughtful, the man whose eyes had once held only her, turn into this? Why had going back to being Jonah turned him into someone who could say such disgusting things so righteously?

She didn't have the energy to dig into the why anymore. All she could think was that the past five years of her life had gone down the drain. She didn't even want to waste a punctuation mark on him.

Sylvie tapped into the text box and fired off a message.

"For the past five years, I nursed you back to health, put a roof over your head, covered your expenses, and bankrolled that so-called startup of yours. I expect you to pay me back as soon as possible. You know my account number."

Almost as soon as she sent the message, her phone started ringing. "Joe" flashed on the screen.

Sylvie stared at it for a couple of seconds, her face blank. Then she declined the call.

He sent her a new message. "If you're gonna keep giving me this attitude, then I don't see why I should keep humoring you. Don't come crying to me later."

Sylvie didn't even bat an eye. She blocked his number on the spot.

…

Before dawn the next morning, Sylvie hurried back to Whithaven.

She dragged out her suitcase, packed the few worn outfits she owned, her acupuncture needles, and the medical texts Robert had left behind.

At the door, she paused and looked at the faded photos taped to the wall one last time. In one of them, "Joe" had his head bowed as he kissed her cheek, his eyes soft. It was as if he really had loved her.

Sylvie walked over to it, tore it down in one swift motion, and crumpled it into a ball. She tossed it straight in the trash. Then, she pulled her suitcase out of the cramped rental without another look back.

From this day onward, Joe would cease to exist in her world. And she would never again be the fool who handed over all her love and hard-earned cash to a con man.