Marrying the Billionaire's Son

"I might as well just die, right now." I cursed under my breath as I closed the fridge and got on my knees, looking under the couch. For the past two hours, I have been looking for my asthma pump with no luck. I sat down on my couch, unshed tears burning my eyes. I have been using my asthma pump since I was a teenager, and without it, I can't function. I exhaled, avoiding an asthma attack, without my pump next to me.

The day at the bank had been exhausting, like any other, and every second had been a test of patience and nerve. I’d spent hours sorting cash, double-checking deposits, explaining over and over why a withdrawal couldn’t go through the same day, and listening to clients grumble about fees that weren’t my fault. My manager had barked at me twice for minor mistakes I didn’t make, and by lunch, I could already feel the weight of exhaustion pressing on my shoulders.

My paycheck barely covered rent, utilities, and the asthma pump refill I now needed desperately. I swore under my breath. Of course I’d forget it. The city outside my window was quiet, almost eerily.

I grabbed my coat, my keys, and muttered, “Well, at least I won’t be stuck in traffic this time of the night.” The streets were empty, and the streetlights flickered intermittently as I drove through the silent city. My hatchback creaked, and I could feel every bump in the asphalt through my tired hands on the wheel. My mind was a swirl of reminders: Don’t pass out before you get your inhaler.

The bank loomed ahead, dark and formal. Its brass-trimmed doors, polished to a professional shine, reflected the dim streetlights. The “CLOSED” sign hung on the glass. I hesitated, a strange flutter of unease settling in my stomach.

I got out of my car and headed for the bank door, rummaging through my bag for the access card and the keys. For some reason, the light was on inside, but no one was in sight. I tried the door handle, and it swiftly opened. My pulse quickened, and I stood at the entrance of the door ajar, contemplating the situation. Confused about why the door would be unlocked at this time of the night?

Anyone who locks up has a standard procedure to follow; why would they leave it open? And the cleaning lady never forgets. Did someone forget? But whatever was going on with the unlocked door, I had no choice but to go inside. My pump is inside, and my life might as well be over if I don't go inside and get it.

I slowly walked in, careful not to make noise. The quietness was too loud, almost suffocating. The hum of fluorescent lights, usually a background noise during the day, now seemed sharp and invasive. The scent of old carpet, polished metal, and faint disinfectant filled my nose, making me wrinkle my nose in distaste.

My footsteps echoed across the marbled floor as I moved cautiously toward the hallway leading to the back offices. My heart was pounding, not just from fear, but from the nagging irritation at my own forgetfulness. My eyes landed on a man kneeling, opening the vault.

At first, I thought I was imagining it, that my brain was playing a trick on me. My stomach sank and my chest tightened as I realised what was going on. I wanted to scream or even tiptoe away, but my eyes wouldn’t look away. I know this person, even though they were not facing me directly; this face looks familiar.

"Caleb Monroe," I whispered under my breath, shocked and ready to tiptoe out of this situation. Five years had passed since high school, since I’d last seen him, since he’d been the source of my nightmares, the boy who had spent countless lunch hours humiliating me in front of everyone. Now he is here, in the bank, kneeling in the vault.

His hair was longer than I remembered, slightly tousled but perfectly styled. And the smirk, the same smug, arrogant smirk, was plastered across his face. That smirk that used to make my stomach twist with dread…now made my chest clench with something else. Now I am about to see that smirk at my workplace, where he definitely does not have the right to be at this time.

I stumbled backward, my hand flying instinctively toward the silent alarm on the wall. My fingers pressed it before I could think. Click. The faint sound echoed in my palm, sharp and final.

Caleb froze. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing, scanning me like a predator. He slowly rose to his feet, every movement deliberate, controlled, exuding a confidence that made my stomach churn.

“Emily?” His voice was low, teasing, almost familiar, yet there was something darker now. Something I couldn’t quite place. “I didn’t expect to see you.” My voice caught in my throat. “C-Caleb… what… what are you doing?” It came out as a whisper, shaky and unsteady.

He took a step closer, and I felt the air shift. My pulse raced, my hands trembled. Memories of high school flooded in the cruel laughter, the stolen lunches, the hallway pranks, and yet, mingled with that old fear, was an unfamiliar, confusing pull. I could feel myself reacting to him despite every warning in my body.

Even after so many years, I still get the burning pit at the pit of my xxxxuu 79nstomach, I get it every time I ran him into the hallways. "Unfortunately, you just walked into a one-man robbery," He said, smiling as he stood up and grabbed the two bags that looked like they were full of money. I looked at him, unable to say anything. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, and I didn't even know what was wrong at this point.

"What is that?" He asked nicely, his head tilted to the side as he referred to the alarm button I pressed. I swallowed, regretting losing my pump in the first place. "It's the alarm," I said in a tiny voice, scared but feeling like I have no choice but to answer him and tell him the truth. There is no telling what he will do to me if I lie to him.

“Well, that was not the right thing to do,” he said, calm, measured, almost amused. And suddenly he pointed with a gun, I gasped, my knees wobbling, I've never been pointed with a gun before, I'm so scared I might pee myself. "Nothing will happen to you if you do exactly what I tell you. Where are your car keys?"

My mind spun and my hands shook as I fumbled for my keys. My fingers were clumsy, fumbling, as if the world had suddenly gone slow and terrifying. What the hell does he want with my car keys? He probably wants me to drive myself over a cliff or set me and my car on fire so there can be no witnesses to what he has done. "You don't have to kill me, I won't say anything to the police." I rambled in my mind, going through the thought of dying because of the company that underpays me.

"What police?" He asked with a huge smile on his face, This is not the same guy I knew from high school. He's a maniac. I swallowed as I realised he was right. Why am I mentioning the police when they are not even here to help me? "I'm gonna need you to drive me to your place, you called the police on me, so I need to be in hiding."

Why the hell does he want to be in hiding at my place? It's too small for me and him. A strange man with a gun in my house the whole night? I felt myself starting to hyperventilate. "I don't have time for this, let's go."

The car door closed behind me with a quiet, final thud. The engine started with a roar that sounded far too loud in the empty street. The drive to my apartment was a tense blur. Every red light I passed, I fought the urge to jump out of the car.

His presence was oppressive, impossible to ignore, but it wasn’t aggressive, not in the way I feared. My heart hammered in response, betraying me with every beat. When we finally pulled up to my apartment, the distant wail of sirens began to slice through the night.

Caleb’s eyes softened ever so slightly, not entirely, just enough to make me think there might be something human beneath the menace. "Good job keeping it together. Can we go inside?" I wanted to scream at him to just leave me alone, but I was too afraid to even open my mouth. I nodded at his question.

"Can I kiss you?"