I Agreed to the Date… But Not the Marriage

The moment I stepped into the house, I threw my bag across the couch and kicked off my shoes like they were burning my feet. Talking to myself like a mad woman,

“Damon Cross, may thunder kiss your edges. May you mistakenly buy a face hair wash that makes you lose all your front hair,” I muttered, stomping straight to my room. “You cold-hearted, Armani-wearing devil. May your coffee always be lukewarm. May your shoelaces untie in every board meeting. May your espresso machine explode every Monday morning. And may the woman you marry serve you burnt toast for the rest of your miserable life! Who will even marry you? May you remain single all your life!”

I was still fuming, but I felt relieved as I sent him my bundles of curses.

Getting fired was one thing. Getting fired without even being given a chance to defend myself—and labeled incompetent, with my name echoing across the Sky Lounge like I was a public disgrace? That was next-level humiliation.

I stripped out of my clothes and walked into the bathroom, letting the water run hot over my skin. I needed to calm down. Just a shower. A shower and a plan. I could find another job. I had to. Because giving up wasn’t an option—not when I still had my father’s debt weighing on my shoulders like an iron chain.

As I lathered soap over my skin, I didn’t realize I had left my phone in the sitting room.

Big mistake.

⸻

My stepmother, Anna, sat like a queen in the sitting room, legs crossed, her red acrylic nails tapping against the armrest of our worn-out couch. She had just finished yelling at Zayden for finishing the last soda when my phone buzzed.

Ding!

She flinched at first, then slowly leaned forward.

The screen lit up again.

$3,200 USD Credit Alert from CrossLux Holdings

Description: Final salary for July – Ayla Morgan

Her eyes narrowed.

Like a lioness catching a scent.

Another buzz.

And that was all it took.

“AYLA!”

The sound of my name ripped through the house like a fire alarm. I jumped, almost slipping in the tub.

“AYLA MORGAN! GET OUT HERE THIS MINUTE!”

I quickly wrapped a towel around myself, still dripping, and dashed into the living room.

“What is it?” I asked, panicked.

Anna, my dear stepmother, was standing in the middle of the room, holding my phone like it was a bomb that just detonated in her hand.

“Come and explain this rubbish!” She shoved my phone in my face. “You got paid?! You got fired?! And you didn’t say anything?!”

I blinked. “I was going to tell you after dinner—”

“AFTER DINNER?! Are you mad? Do you know what’s going on in this house?! We have debts, Ayla! We are being threatened every day! Do you want me to lose my mind?! Are you planning to ruin my life and my children’s lives in this situation? How could you get fired now?”

“I didn’t get fired on purpose!” I shouted back. “I made a mistake at work, okay? I’ll get another job! I swear—”

“With what connections?” she hissed, pacing the room like she was going to dig a grave right in the living room. “Do you think jobs fall from the sky? Or do you want to start working in a canteen, washing plates for a few dollars a day?”

“I said I’ll fix it—”

“HOW?” Her voice rose again. “HOW WILL YOU FIX IT? With that your useless stubbornness? With your tears?”

I pressed my hands to my temple.

This wasn’t what I needed right now.

Not after the most humiliating day of my life.

“I’ll find something. Please, just give me a little time,” I said quietly.

She stopped pacing. Her eyes softened—just slightly.

Then her lips curved. She looked calm immediately and got closer to me in a loving way.

And that scared me more than the shouting.

“You want me to help?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Then you’ll go on a date. Just one. With a man my cousin told me about.”

I frowned. “What?”

“He’s very rich. A widower. Owns a block of hotels somewhere in the North.”

I stared at her. “How old?”

“Sixty-five.”

“SIXTY-FIVE?!”

“Listen to me!” she snapped. “He’s been married three times, but they’re all dead. And he’s looking for a young woman to warm his bed and take care of his home. He said he’s willing to pay handsomely. You marry him, and our debts are gone.”

I gawked at her like she’d lost her damn mind. “Three wives. All dead. And you think that’s a good idea? What if he’s the one killing them?! I’ll be next!”

She clutched her chest. “God forbid! Don’t say such nonsense!”

“Tell that to the ghost of wife number three!”

She moved closer to me and took my hands. Her voice dropped to something almost… sweet. “Ayla, please. I’ve sacrificed so much for you since your mother died. I fed you. I clothed you. I sent you to school. And now… now you want to ruin your siblings’ lives because you’re too proud to help us? Do you want your siblings to be harassed by loan sharks? Or don’t you know those people can kill sometimes for their money?”

My throat tightened. “I said I’ll find another job…”

“Oh, will you also find a way to make the loan sharks forget the money your father borrowed before he died? How many jobs do you have to do before you will pay $300,000? It’s in dollars, Ayla, for crying out loud! Or should I start packing our things and sell this house too? Even if we sell it, it’s not enough to pay this debt. Help us please, Ayla. Please, for the sake of how I’ve treated you since you were little. I didn’t take you as a stepdaughter—I took you as mine. Think not only for me, but also for Sierra and Zayden.”

Her voice cracked. And for a second—I felt guilty.

Then she twisted the knife.

“You want to pay me back like this? After all the suffering? You’re just like your father. Always dreaming. Never facing reality.”

That broke something in me.

Because even if I didn’t love her like a mother, I still didn’t want to see her hurt. And I loved my siblings just like I loved myself. I didn’t want them hurt.

“My father was not a bad person. He had a reason for what he did. He didn’t want to put you in this situation,” I said, almost faintly.

“Then prove it. Prove it, Ayla.”

I swallowed hard.

She stared into my eyes like the weight of our family’s survival was dangling from my spine.

And finally…

I nodded.

“Fine,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go on the date. If after the date he is not good enough, I may change my mind.”

She smiled like she’d just won a jackpot.

“Good girl. The man’s driver will pick you up tomorrow evening. Wear something decent.”

As she walked away humming, I stood frozen.

A blind date with a sixty-five-year-old man whose previous wives had all died mysteriously.

What could possibly go wrong?