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Ashley POV

Josh had said the program paid well.

Whatever else he’d done, whatever his reasons for submitting my name, he’d clearly believed the financial compensation was worth mentioning.

And if there was even a chance that the program could help me raise the money my brother needed, could I really afford to ignore it?

I looked down at my phone.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

I didn’t know what the program involved. I didn’t know what it would ask of me, what I’d be expected to do, or whether the money would be enough.

I knew nothing.

But for the first time since leaving Josh’s house, I had something resembling a direction.

And right now, that was going to have to be enough.

I opened the message and typed a quick reply.

Thank you. What’s the next step?

I just hoped I wasn’t too late to reply and that they would still consider me. I said a little prayer to the universe, hoping I hadn’t lost my last chance before I even got to try.

I took a bus home and resisted the urge to check my phone. Watching the screen for a reply wasn't going to help my overthinking self.

When I got to my little apartment, I immediately reached for my phone.

They’d replied.

I opened the message so quickly I nearly dropped my phone. It contained an address and instructions to report for screening at 7 a.m. the following morning.

I was still in.

I could still have a chance to get the money Jason needed.

For the first time that day, I felt a little hopeful. Maybe this was going to work out after all.

I barely slept that night.

Before I knew it, it was six, and I was scrambling to get ready.

After changing my outfit three times, I eventually settled on a midi skirt and a nice basic top. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was decent enough.

Honestly, I barely owned any clothes that made me feel like a normal girl my age. Lol. Between my brother’s hospital bills and everything else life had decided to throw at me, shopping for cute outfits wasn’t exactly a priority.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before grabbing my bag.

I took a taxi instead of a bus. I wanted to make a good impression, and who knew what these people would take into consideration?

I couldn’t afford to take any risks.

By the time I arrived, the sun was beginning to come out. The building stood out immediately, and as I approached the entrance, the gate opened automatically.

Fancy.

The place looked more like a penthouse than an office, which was interesting considering I still had no proper idea what the Heirs Program was about.

I stepped inside and approached the main door. Before I could knock, it opened on its own.

A small display beside the entrance flashed a simple instruction.

GO UPSTAIRS.

I stared at it for a second.

Okay. Apparently, even the doors here had an attitude.

I followed the instruction and made my way upstairs, where a woman stood waiting. She was dressed neatly, her hair pulled back, her expression so stern that I immediately reconsidered every decision that had brought me there.

She looked me over briefly.

“Name?”

“Ashley.”

She checked something on her tablet before pointing towards a door.

“Go in there and strip.”

I blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you not aware of why you’re here?” she asked impatiently. “Please spare me the drama and do as you’re told.”

I stared at her, waiting for some indication that she was joking.

Nothing.

Well. This was already shaping up to be the strangest morning of my life

I wanted to ask exactly why I needed to undress, but the look on her face suggested that questions weren’t particularly welcome. And with Jason’s treatment hanging over my head, I wasn’t about to let my curiosity ruin what might be my only chance at getting the money.

So I swallowed my discomfort and went into the room she’d indicated.

It looked like a small changing room, with barely enough space to turn around comfortably. I shut the door behind me and stood there for a moment, wondering what on earth I’d gotten myself into.

Then, reluctantly, I began to undress.

I hated how vulnerable I felt. Most of all, I hated that I couldn’t simply walk out.

Not when fifty million dollars stood between my brother and the treatment he desperately needed.

When I was done, I knocked on the door.

A different attendant appeared a moment later. She handed me a towel and instructed me to wrap it around myself before following her.

I obeyed, clutching the towel a little tighter than necessary as I stepped into the hallway.

That was when I realised I hadn’t been the only one waiting.

There was a queue outside another room, and I was apparently the last person in it.

Women stood in various states of undress beneath their towels, their faces tense and their eyes fixed on the floor.

One by one, the women ahead of me disappeared into the room and came out looking worse than they had before.

My stomach tightened.

What exactly were they doing in there?

But I kept my expression neutral and tried not to let my anxiety show. I had come this far, and I needed to know what this program could offer me.

Eventually, the queue dwindled until there was nobody left in front of me.

The attendant opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

“You’re next, Ashley.”

I took a deep breath, tightened my grip on the towel, and stepped inside.