5. A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

The words hit like a slap.

“What?” Chelsea stepped closer. “Why?”

“There was an environmental issue on one of the floors,” he said quietly. “They said I was responsible.”

“But you weren’t,” she protested immediately. “You’ve been saying for weeks that the equipment was faulty.”

“I know,” he said, voice cracking. “But I couldn’t prove it.”

“It means we won't be able to get the insurance request. We won't be able to save mum.” Tears welled up in Chelsea's eyes.

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating.

“They said,” he continued, swallowing hard, “that if I can bring a guarantor—someone who will vouch for my character and assure them it won’t happen again—they might reconsider. Otherwise… that’s it.”

Chelsea’s mind raced. A guarantor. Someone powerful. Someone respected.

Someone they didn’t have.

Her legs felt weak. Without his job, the surgery—everything—would fall apart. All the hope she had carefully gathered would collapse like a house of cards.

“I’ll do it,” Chelsea said suddenly.

Her father looked up, startled. “Do what?”

“I’ll be your guarantor.”

Richard frowned. “Chelsea, no. They won’t take you seriously.”

“They will,” she insisted, already reaching for her bag. “I work in Stillwater clinic. It is well known and reputable. I’ll talk to them.”

Desperation sharpened her resolve. There was no time to think. No time to fear.

“Okay,” her dad caved in. “But you have to be there as early as 8:00 am.”

*******

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Chelsea stood before the towering Dylan Corporation building, clutching her visitor pass like a lifeline.

The Dylan Corps headquarters loomed just as intimidating the second time she entered—but this time, the stakes were unbearable.

She was ushered into the executive floor, heart pounding, palms slick with sweat.

When the door opened, she froze.

Behind the polished desk sat the handsome stranger from the elevator.

Only now, there was no confusion about who he was.

Davis Dylan.

CEO.

The room spun slightly.

“You?” she breathed.

Davis leaned back in his chair, lips curving slowly. “So you do know how to find me.”

Shock gave way to humiliation, then panic. “I—I didn’t know. I thought you were—”

“A clerk?” he finished smoothly. “I will take it as a compliment to my own humility.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m here about my father. Richard Evans.”

“I know,” Davis said calmly. “I read the file.”

Relief surged. “Then you know it wasn’t his fault.”

“I do,” he replied. “But knowing and proving are two very different things.”

She stepped forward, voice trembling. “Please. He needs this job. We need to—”

“I’m honestly not interested in your sob story,” Davis interrupted gently. Too gently. “I’m interested in solutions.”

Her hope flickered. “Then you’ll reinstate him?”

“Yes,” he said. “With full benefits. And maybe a positive response to that insurance request.”

Her breath hitched. “Thank you.”

“But,” he continued, standing now, circling the desk, “there are conditions.”

The word conditions chilled her.

He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Your father gets his job back,” Davis said softly, “Then I have you.”

She froze.

He waited.

“What?” She breathed.

“I am asking you to be my mistress.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Your… mistress?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You asked for help, and I am asking something in return. Quid pro quo. It's not going to be for too long."

“I barely know you.”

“Well, that's some of the point about being a mistress, isn't it?”

The world went silent.

Tears burned her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he replied. “Think of it as a contract.”

Her mother’s face flashed before her. Pale. Fragile. Waiting.

“How long?” she whispered.

“A few months,” Davis said. “Long enough.”

This was wrong. Disgusting. Unfair.

But desperation was louder than dignity.

Chelsea closed her eyes.

“I agree,” she said.

The words tasted like blood.

For the first time, he struggled to hide his surprise. He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Good.”

She watched him saunter back to his place behind the mahogany desk. He sat down with a slow satisfied smile curved on his lips.“Our first outing will be tomorrow night. I'll send a car. Amber will handle anything you need. She's discreet.”

Her breath trembled. “Okay.”

Chelsea nodded stiffly.

“Your father resumes work tomorrow,” Davis added. “No charges. No deductions.”

Just like that.

As she turned to leave, her legs trembling, one thought echoed painfully in her mind—

Hope always comes with a price.

And she had just agreed to pay it.

By the time she got home that evening, her father was elated. He had been asked to resume his position at the company. Chelsea dreaded telling him the deal she had taken for that to happen. She tried convincing herself that she was doing this for her family.

Chelsea spent the next workday in a haze.

As she went about her tasks, her mind lagged behind, replaying yesterday's agreement like a bad dream she couldn’t wake from. Every time she thought she had steadied herself, the memory returned: Davis’s calm voice, the impossible condition, the way desperation had cornered her into saying yes.

After work that day, she was about to leave when Amber appeared just outside the clinic at closing time. This man was not joking, Chelsea thought frantically.

The car parked by the curb was impossible to miss—and impossible to look ordinary. A sleek black Benz with tinted glass, engine humming softly. However, as Chelsea walked out of the clinic to join them, she couldn't help but notice the curious glances from her coworkers. They were all staring at the car parked outside, and Chelsea felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

"Wow, Chelsea, you're living the high life," Kimberley, the receptionist whispered, eyeing the car with wide eyes. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Heat rushed to her face. “It’s… it’s nothing serious,” she muttered, though it sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

Chelsea stepped out and walked towards Amber who had a warm smile for her. 

“Ready?” she asked Chelsea gently.

Chelsea nodded, heart hammering as she slid into the backseat