Chapter 2

IVY'S POV 

The words hung between us. It was sharp. It was dangerous. 

‘I’m not—’

‘In name only, to the public. In private…’ His eyes caught mine and held them, something dangerous sparking in his steel blue eyes. ‘You’ll belong to me. For about a year.’

The floor seemed to tilt under me. ‘You’re insane.’

‘Perhaps. But you’re desperate.’

I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I wanted to turn and run. But behind me, down the corridor, Emily’s monitor kept beeping like some sort of mocking reminder that the time was ticking. 

‘Why me?’ I whispered.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Because you’re perfect for what I need.’

‘I’ll never agree to that.’

He leaned closer, his breath ghosting against my ear. ‘You will. By the time I walk out of this hospital, you’ll be mine.’

I swallowed hard, heat and ice warring in my veins. ‘And if I say no?’

He straightened, gaze hardening to granite. ‘Then you would be responsible for the death of your sister. Her blood will be in your hands.’

My breath caught. ‘You have no right to say that. How dare you?’

Sebastian didn’t blink. ‘It’s the truth.’

‘You’re a jerk,’ I snapped, my voice shaking, my frustration bubbling over. ‘You think you can wave your money around and own people? I’m not for sale. I will never sell myself to you.’

His expression didn’t change. He stood there like my anger couldn’t touch him, like I was pouring water on stone. Impenetrable.

I turned on my heel, heart pounding, and stormed down the corridor. My boots hit the floor hard, echoing off the cold hospital walls.

Behind me, I could still feel his eyes on my back. Calm. Patient. As if he knew I’d be back.

As i walked away, I didn’t dare look back. If I did, maybe he would notice how my legs were shaking or how my nails were sinking into my palms. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

I went back into Emily’s room and sat beside her bed. I held her limp hand in my shaky ones until visiting hours ended. The beeping of the monitor was enough to semd waves of fresh anxiety in my body. 

When the nurse told me I had to leave, I lied and said I would be back with the money soon. I didn’t know if I was lying to her or to myself.

I didn't know how I got home that night.

The next morning, I went to work at the café. I had a few jobs to keep me and my sister afloat. This was one of them.

It wasn’t glamorous. It never had been. But it paid just enough to keep Emily’s school fees going before she moved in with me. The tiny bell over the door chimed without a stop as people keeping coming in and out. Water dripped from their umbrellas as it was raining heavily outside. They came in, ordering their stuff. 

Despite my present predicament, I tried to smile…Tried to keep my voice steady when I said ‘That’ll be $6.75’. But my thoughts won't stop popping up, making my chest heavier than I could carry.

Emily. ICU. Two million. Sebastian Wolfe’s eyes.

By eleven a.m., my apron was soaked through with milk foam and coffee stains. A man in a pinstripe suit snapped his fingers at me for more sugar like I was his dog. Another customer complained that her latte art wasn’t symmetrical enough. I burned my hand on the steam wand because my mind kept drifting to a hospital bed two miles away.

‘Careful, Ivy,’ Mel, my manager, muttered from behind the counter. She was twenty-four, just two years older than me, but acted like she’d been born to bark orders. ‘You’re lucky I even let you keep the morning shift after last week.’

Last week I’d been late because Emily had a seizure at home. I had carried her down four flights of stairs by myself. My arms had ached for days.

I bit my tongue until I tasted blood and nodded. ‘Won’t happen again.’

She sniffed like she didn’t believe me. ‘Good. Don’t forget to mop before you go.’

My shift finally ended. My back hurt so much from bending and my hands felt like jelly. I took a deep exhale and dragged myself home. I prayed along the way that the landlord’s elevator would work so I wouldn’t have to carry my body up the stairs. 

I got to my street and the sight I saw made my stomach sink. My things were on the sidewalk. The cardboard boxes were already soaked in the rain, my books scattered on the floor. Emily's art supplies…the one's she had begged me to get for her for her last birthday were there, lying in a puddle of rain.

I froze, my breath coming sharp and fast.

‘Ms. Laurent.’

The landlord's voice sounded smug. He was leaning against the doorway, his stomach so big that it strained against his shirt. His arms were crossed and he looked like a man that was proud of what he had done. 

‘What is this?’ I demanded.

‘You’ve been two years behind on rent. Two. Years. I told you last month that if you didn’t pay, I’d have to take action.’

‘You can’t just—’

‘I can, and I have.’ He tossed a crumpled envelope at my feet. ‘Consider yourself lucky I didn’t have the sheriff here.’

My cheeks burned, but it was not from the cold, but from the humiliation. The neighbours' curtains twitched as they peered down. Someone upstairs laughed.

‘I’ll get the money,’ I said through my teeth.

‘Sure you will. You always say that.’ He turned and shut the door in my face.

The rain started falling heavier. It soaked my clothes and everything. I rushed, crouching down beside my sister's art box, trying to save whatever I could, but the paper was already ruined. The colours poured out on the streets.

I didn’t feel the tears until they mixed with the rain on my cheeks. My fingers went numb as I clutched the box to my chest, my knees sinking into the cold water pooling around the curb.

And then my phone rang.

I fumbled it out of my pocket with shaking hands in the middle of the road.

‘Ms. Laurent?’ The voice was clipped and professional. ‘This is Saint Augustine’s Medical Center. I’m calling regarding your sister’s account.’

My chest tightened. ‘What about it?’

‘Your outstanding balance is still unpaid. We’ve given you additional time, but unless we receive payment within twenty-four hours, we will have no choice but to withdraw treatment.’

The words stole my breath.

‘Withdraw treatment?’

‘We’ll keep her comfortable until… well.’ The pause was loaded. ‘Without payment, we can’t continue the necessary interventions.’

‘I can get the money. I just need—’

‘I’m sorry, Ms. Laurent. You have just twenty-four hours.’

The call ended.

I sat there in the rain, my phone slipping in my wet hands, unable to move. My teeth were chattering, but my body was on fire.

I thought of Emily’s bruised face. The way her fingers twitched in mine when I’d sat beside her bed. I thought about the numerous times they put her in. I thought about how pale she looked.

And then I thought of him.

Sebastian Wolfe. His steel eyes. His voice that was like a promise and a threat wrapped in one. Then your sister dies tonight.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the business card he had slipped there before I had left the hospital. It was thick, black, with his name written in silver. My hands shook as I stared at the address written on it. 

I told myself I was only going to see him to negotiate. To find some other way. To keep my dignity intact.

But even I didn’t believe that.

The building was tall. Taller than most buildings in the city. It was built in glass and steel. It towered into the clouds, the name ‘Wolfe’s International’ carved in bold letters. I stood outside for almost five minutes, rethinking my decision, shivering in my damp clothes before I finally pushed myself in.

The lobby that was designed in marble and chrome echoed with every footstep i took.

The receptionist didn’t look up when I approached the desk. She was young, pretty, with hair so sleek it probably cost more than my rent.

‘I need to see Mr. Wolfe,’ I said, my voice low.

Her eyes flicked up, scanning me from head to toe. My hair was still wet. My coat ruined, mud on my jeans. Her mouth curled. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then you can’t see him.’ She turned back to her computer.

‘I need to—’

‘Sweetheart,’ she cut me off, her tone dripping with condescension, ‘men like Mr. Wolfe don’t take walk-ins. Especially not from…’ Her gaze slid over me again, and she didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Heat surged in my chest. ‘It’s important.’

‘Everything’s important to people like you.’ She smiled without warmth. ‘Maybe try the charity office downtown.’

My nails dug into my palms.

She sighed, as if I were exhausting her. ‘Look, I can put you down for a phone screening next month, but—’

‘Send her up.’

The voice cut through the air like a blade. Deep. Commanding.

The receptionist’s eyes went wide.

I turned.

Sebastian Wolfe was standing just beyond the glass barrier, his suit darker than charcoal. His gaze were fixed on me like I was the only person in the room.

‘Now,’ he added, and the weight in that word made the receptionist’s cheeks flush.

‘Of course, Mr. Wolfe.’ She scrambled to pick up the phone, her earlier superiority vanishing like smoke.

My throat was dry as I stepped toward him.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink.

‘Ms. Laurent,’ he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. ‘I knew you’d come, but I had no idea it'd be this quick, considering how strong your resolve was twenty-four hours ago.’