Chapter 3: You Get Married To His Son

The billing officer in front of the laptop stared at Isla with surprised eyes. "The bills were paid just now," she said, like she couldn’t believe the words were flying out of her mouth. Since they knew Isla or anyone related to her, they had never been able to pay their bills, not even the cents.

"I'm aware of that," Isla responded, standing up. "Can my Nana's treatment continue?"

The woman briskly nodded, printing the payment receipt and handing it over to Isla. "You can show this to the nurses."

"Thank you," Isla muttered, walking out of the room and leaving the officer staring at her in awe.

Her Nana was taken back to the care room for treatment, and Isla decided to go back home as it was getting late. When she got home, she wasn’t surprised to see her luggage scattered on the floor. The door was locked with a huge padlock, Madam Rohana wasn’t joking about kicking her out this time.

Her phone chimed. A sum of thirty thousand dollars had just been sent to her account, followed by a message from Graham:

G - I know this is really small, but use it to get yourself a nice hotel to stay in tonight. Make sure to get the rest you need before we meet up tomorrow.

Isla still couldn’t believe this was real life. If someone from the future had told her she would wake up one day to see thousands of dollars in the bank, she would have cursed the person out. The fact that Graham was apologizing as if he had sent her a penny was wild to her.

Thank you, she texted back, before packing her luggage and looking up nice hotels where she could lodge.

She stayed in the modest neighborhood in Singapore where hotels were hard to find, even the best hotel the internet suggested for her was nothing—not even a quarter compared to what she had in the bank right now. She decided to go there for the night before visiting Graham the next day.

G - Rise and shine. I hope you slept well and that you’ve had something to eat. Please text me the location of your hotel so I can have someone pick you up for our meeting.

Isla read Graham's message first thing when she woke up.

She took her shower, changed her clothes, and then proceeded to text Graham the location.

A message came next from Priya:

P - I came to your house this morning. I brought you food, but I saw new people living there. Madam Rohana said she kicked you out yesterday. Where are you staying now?

P - You know you can always crash at my place. Come on, Isla, don’t do this alone.

Guilt washed over Isla as she read the messages from her best friend, but Priya had gone through so much for her already. She couldn’t keep putting her in more danger.

Isla thought to herself that if this whole inheritance thing with Graham was real, she would pay Priya back.

Her phone rang—it was an unknown number, but she picked up, knowing it was probably from Graham.

"Miss Isla Pereira, we were sent by Mr. Graham to come pick you up," an unfamiliar fancy male voice informed her. "Kindly come outside, ma’am. We are parked and waiting."

"Alright, I’m coming," Isla replied before hanging up. She took her small luggage with her as she checked out of the hotel.

She got outside, looking for the car that was going to take her to Graham. It can’t possibly be the black Mercedes Benz S-Class waiting for her, can it? Isla refused to believe it, so she called Graham to ask where the driver was.

"They are right in front of you," Graham confirmed, letting her know the Mercedes waiting for her was indeed hers.

"I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by sending a limo, so I thought this would be okay for you," Graham added.

He even planned on sending a limo? Isla believed this was all too much and began to wonder how rich Mr. Harold Khan must have been.

The car ride was not the nightmare of a trip she was expecting. It took about ten to fifteen minutes, the simplicity of her neighborhood disappearing before her as she was welcomed into the well-developed, busy, and luxurious city.

The ride came to a halt before a tall glass skyscraper. If Isla thought the Mercedes Benz sent to pick her up was too much, she was now lost for words at how to explain the hundreds of expensive cars parked outside.

The chauffeur helped her with the door. Isla could see both male and female security officers dressed in shining uniforms—better than what she currently had on.

"Mr. Graham said you should have this map and this card. The map shows you the direction to the building where you can meet him. Anyone you ask questions, just show them the card and they will understand," one of the chauffeurs informed her.

"Thank you," Isla barely found her voice to speak, taking her worn-out small bag of luggage.

Forcing her wobbly legs to move into the building, the crisp, cold air-conditioning hit her skin, followed by the fresh scent of sandalwood mixed with leather and faint citrus. The interior was blindingly clean, Isla could even see her reflection in the wooden chairs.

"And how can I help you, miss?" A soft but stern woman’s voice stopped her. The woman, with oily wavy hair, stared at her with a look of both disgust and curiosity.

"I—"

Isla wasn’t given a chance to speak when another woman cut her off.

"As of now, we don’t accept cleaners."

Isla did not appreciate the comment. Just because she wasn’t dressed as smart as them gave them the immediate right to assume she was a cleaner. If they found out she was about to own this company, she wondered how they would feel.

"I’m here to see Mr. Graham. I have an appointment with him," she said, showing them the card given to her.

The women’s skin grew pale. They didn’t ask any more questions, as they knew not everyone had access to that card, but their silent question was how she had managed to get it.

Isla followed the map, going through floors on the elevator. Everywhere was sparkling—she couldn’t escape her reflection from the walls, floors, and everything around her.

Finally, she arrived at an office that looked exactly like the one on the map. Her blood grew cold as she knocked on the door. What if she stepped in and her life flashed before her eyes? But Isla had already accepted she had nothing to lose. If she died now, her grandmother was being treated, and that was enough.

"Come in," a familiar voice answered. She could tell it was Graham. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped in.

Graham looked exactly like the vibe he gave her from the phone call. He looked like a gentle middle-aged man, with no look of surprise or discrimination in his eyes when he sighted her. Instead, he welcomed her with a bright smile.

"Glad to finally meet you in person, Miss Isla Pereira. Please have your seat."

The office was spacious, almost ten times bigger than the apartment she had been kicked out of. There was a long oak table with nearly twenty chairs surrounding it. Graham stood and pulled out a chair for her.

"Thank you," Isla said, sitting down and hugging her luggage close to her.

"You should relax, Miss Pereira. You are in a safe space," Graham said, sounding as comforting as possible.

Isla could see Graham was trying his best to prove to her that he wasn’t a bad person, so she made the effort to calm herself down.

"Water." He passed a lukewarm glass of water towards her. "You can take a few minutes if you need to."

"It’s okay, just tell me all I need to know," Isla muttered.

"Like I said, Miss Pereira. Mr. Harold died and left almost everything he owned to you, you get the company, cars, lands, money—but in one condition," Graham said, his voice growing serious.

"What?" Isla could barely hear her own voice as the banging of her heart grew louder each passing second.

"You get married to his son."