Chapter 7

❤️Sophie❤️

I stare at the screen so long that my eyes begin to sting. For a full five seconds, neither Sandy nor I breathe. Then…

“Oh my God!” Sandy shrieks so loudly I nearly drop my phone. “He replied.” She squeals, bouncing on the bed, “Someone actually replied.”

I blink twice, still convinced this has to be a prank. “No,” I whisper, “There is no way.”

“There is a way!” She snatches the phone from my trembling hands, “Sophie, somebody wants to marry you.”

I swallow hard, “What if he’s a serial killer? What if he’s broke? What if he’s eighty?”

Sandy rolls her eyes, “You can’t be serious.”

“ I am. I can’t believe someone accepted just like that. What if he’s ugly? Or he’s secretly married?”

She lowers the phone, “You really know how to ruin a moment.”

“I’m serious!”

She thrusts the phone back into my hands, “Reply.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“What do I even say?”

“Tell the truth.”

I glare at her, “That truth got me pregnant.”

She rolls her eyes again, “Fine. Just ask questions.”

I stare at the blinking cursor, my fingers hesitating above the keyboard before I finally type.

*How old are you?*

The three little dots appear almost instantly; he’s typing. Why is my heart racing?

*23*

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Twenty-three. Exactly what we asked for. Sandy bumps a fist into the air. “Yes!”

I quickly type another message.

*What do you do for a living?*

*Business*

Business? “What kind of answer is that?” I mutter.

“He could own a grocery store.”

“He could.”

“Or sell fake designer bags.”

I snort, “You are impossible.”

She smiles anyway. I continue typing.

*Have you read the entire advertisement?*

*Yes*

*Are you willing to marry me for two years?*

A pause, longer this time. I bite my thumbnail nervously. I imagine him saying this is a mistake and that he wasn’t interested in any of this.

Before my thoughts can spiral further, another text appears.

*Yes*

I stare.

“He’s agreeing too easily.”

Sandy nods thoughtfully, “I noticed.”

“Normal people ask questions.”

“They negotiate, they ask why. He hasn’t asked any questions.”

Almost as if he already knows everything. The thought sends an unexpected shiver crawling down my spine.

I shake it off. It’s probably because of the money. Two million dollars will probably make anyone overlook a few things.

I type again.

*Why are you doing this?*

This time, the reply takes nearly a minute. My heartbeat grows louder with every passing second.

*Money*

Short. Cold. I don’t know why, but the answer actually relaxes me. Money makes sense. People do crazy things for less. At least he’s honest.

Sandy leans closer, “Ask him when to meet.”

I nod. *When can we meet?*

*Tomorrow*

I glance at Sandy; she grins. I continue.

*Where?*

The typing bubbles appear once more.

*Blackstone Hotel*

I frown. Blackstone? Isn’t that one of the most luxurious hotels in the city? I type again.

*What time?*

*10 a.m*

Before I can answer, another message appears.

*Come alone*

The smile slips from my face.

“What?” Sandy asks.

I silently hand her the phone. She reads, her brow furrowing. “Come alone.”

“I don’t like that,” I mumble.

“Me neither.”

She thoughtfully chews on her lower lip before grabbing my shoulders. “You are absolutely not going alone.”

“He specifically said….”

She folds her arms. “I don’t care what Mr. Shadow Twenty-Three said.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Shadow Twenty-Three.”

“I’m not letting my pregnant best friend walk into a meeting with a stranger by herself.”

“What if he leaves when he sees you?”

“I’ll stay outside.”

I look back at the screen. The conversation has gone silent—no typing bubble, no goodbye, nothing. Just six words that somehow make tomorrow feel terrifying.

Come alone.

A lump forms in my throat. What if this is a mistake? What if he changes his mind the moment he sees me? Or worse, what if he’s nothing like I imagined?