Chapter Four: One Million Reasons

Sophia Hart

"Marry me."

The words hung between us like smoke.

For a moment, I simply stared at Ethan Blackwell. Waiting. Waiting for a smirk. A laugh.

Anything that would tell me this was some elaborate joke at my expense. Nothing came. His expression remained perfectly serious. My heart skipped a beat. Was this man insane? Of all the things I had expected to hear when I walked into his office this morning, a marriage proposal wasn't one of them. Especially not from him.

I despised Ethan Blackwell. He was arrogant, controlling, emotionally unavailable, and impossible to please.

Every day, he found a new way to make my job difficult. And now he wanted to marry me?

"What?" I finally managed.

"I want you to marry me."

His tone remained calm. Matter-of-fact. As though he were discussing quarterly profits instead of proposing marriage. A nervous laugh escaped me.

"Marry you? No." The answer came instantly.

For the first time since entering his office, I saw something flicker across his face. Surprise. Apparently, Ethan Blackwell wasn't used to hearing that word. No.

Everyone in this company worshipped the ground he walked on. Nobody told him no. Nobody challenged him. Nobody rejected him. But I wasn't everyone.

I pushed my chair back and stood. "I think this conversation is over."

What shocked me wasn't his proposal. It was the way he had asked. There was no command in his voice. No arrogance. No threat.

For the first time since I started working for him, Ethan sounded almost... sincere. And somehow that scared me even more. I turned toward the door.

Then his voice stopped me. "One million dollars."

I froze. Every muscle in my body locked. Slowly, I looked back. Ethan hadn't moved.

"A two-year contract marriage," he continued calmly. "One million dollars."

The number echoed inside my head. One million. My pulse quickened. That amount of money could change everything. Mom's treatment. Dad's debts. Leo's education.

Our future.

Every problem that kept me awake at night suddenly had a solution attached to it.

One million dollars. For a dangerous second, I was tempted. Then reality returned.

"No."

His jaw tightened. I forced myself to continue. "I don't care how much money you're offering."

It was a lie. I cared. Desperately. But I couldn't let him know that.

Ethan leaned back in his chair. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. Then he said quietly, "Who said I don't know?"

A chill ran through me. "What?"

His gray eyes locked onto mine. "Your mother." I stopped breathing.

"What about her?"

"I know she's sick."

My stomach dropped.

"I know you've been spending your holidays at the hospital instead of enjoying Christmas."

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. I couldn't think. How did he know that?

Ethan continued. "The medical bills are piling up." My fingers curled into fists. "And Victor has called you six times this week."

The color drained from my face.

No. No. No. How did he know about Victor? The debt collector wasn't connected to the company. There was no reason Ethan should know that name. Yet somehow he did.

"The debt belongs to your father," Ethan said calmly. "A man who drinks too much and gambles even more."

Each word landed like a punch. I felt exposed. Humiliated. Stripped bare.

My entire life laid out on his desk like one of his business reports.

"You investigated me." It wasn't a question. His silence was answer enough.

Something inside me snapped. Without another word, I turned and walked out.

I didn't wait for permission. I didn't ask if I could leave. I simply left.

For the first time since I started working at Blackwell Enterprises, I walked out of Ethan Blackwell's office without being dismissed.

My hands shook the entire way back to my small office. I slammed the door shut behind me and collapsed into my chair.

The room felt suffocating.

I couldn't believe he had dug through my life like that. My mother. My father. Leo. Victor. He knew everything. The realization terrified me.

A knock sounded on my door. I ignored it. A second later, my desk phone rang. I picked it up.

"Sophia speaking."

"Miss Hart?"

It was the receptionist.

"There's a visitor here asking for you."

My stomach tightened.

"A visitor?"

"Yes."

Something in her voice made me sit up straighter. "What is his name?"

There was a brief pause. Then she answered.

"Victor."

My blood turned to ice. For a second, I couldn't hear anything. Couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

Victor? Here? At my workplace? No. No, that wasn't possible.

This was supposed to be the one place he couldn't reach me. The one place where I could hide. The one place where debt collectors and family disasters couldn't follow.

Yet somehow he had found me. I stood so quickly my chair rolled backward. Fear surged through me. Raw. Immediate. Paralyzing.

The receptionist spoke again. "Miss Hart?"

I swallowed hard. "I'll be right there."

My voice barely sounded like my own.

I ended the call and hurried toward the elevator.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

By the time I reached the lobby, my heart was pounding so hard I thought everyone around me could hear it. Then I saw him.

Victor. Standing near the reception desk.

Waiting. And judging by the look on his face, he wasn't here to negotiate.

He was here to collect. Because the money my father—the drunk gambler who never stopped borrowing—owed had finally come due.