The Billionaire's Contract Bride

Rain poured heavily outside the hospital window, creating a monotonous rhythm that echoed through the silent corridors. The distinctive aroma of disinfectant mixed with the damp night air. Dim lights illuminated room number 312, where a middle-aged woman lay weakly. An IV was inserted into her wrinkled, aging hand. Her breaths were labored, as if each inhalation was a final, exhausting battle.

Hazel Gabriella sat quietly at the edge of the bed. Her trembling fingers grasped her mother's increasingly cold hand. Hazel's lips quivered, but she forced herself to remain strong. Maria Gabriella—the only family left, the sole reason Hazel continued to endure despite the world's relentless blows.

"Mom... please hold on. I promise I'll find a way. I won't leave you," she whispered, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the pristine white blanket covering Maria's frail body.

The woman who was once full of energy and spirit was now a shadow of her former self. This cruel disease had taken everything—health, happiness, even the light that once always shone in her eyes.

"Mom... can you hear me?" Hazel whispered again, gently shaking her mother's unresponsive hand.

A knock on the door shattered the suffocating silence. Hazel turned, her eyes swollen.

"Miss Gabriella?" A cold-faced nurse stood at the doorway, her expression impassive. In her hand was a familiar-looking piece of paper. Hazel knew what it was even before the nurse handed it over.

In a formal, detached tone, the nurse said, "This is the hospital bill. The final payment must be settled by tomorrow morning."

Hazel stared at the large numbers displayed, nearly losing her breath. The amount was so substantial, it was impossible for her to pay it in such a short time.

Her body tensed. Her hand reflexively gripped the paper tightly, as if clinging to the remnants of her dwindling hope.

After the nurse left without another word, Hazel remained frozen in place. Her chest felt tight.

"What should I do, Mom? Should I give up?" she whispered softly, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to erupt. "But I don't want to lose you. I'm not ready."

Her phone suddenly vibrated, displaying a message notification. Hazel reached for it, her heart pounding, hoping for something good, but her intuition told her otherwise. A message had arrived. From someone very close to her. "Hazel... I'm sorry. I really don't know what else to do. I heard you need money, but I'm struggling myself right now. I want to help you, truly, but I can't... So, I shared your number with some people who might be able to assist. I know this is outrageous, but I hope it can lighten your burden, even a little. I'm sorry if this makes you angry or sad... I just wanted to do something for you. Sorry, Hazel... Sorry I can't be a better friend."

Hazel was stunned. Should she feel angry, disappointed, or grateful?

Her friend surely meant well, but sharing her personal number without permission was not something easily accepted. Now everyone knew. Now, it wasn't just her struggling in silence—her situation had become the concern of others, people who might look at her with pity.

Hazel's chest felt tight, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her. Her fingers clenched at her sides, trying to suppress the overflowing emotions. Not just anger, but more of disappointment. Disappointment in the situation, in a world so cruel, and in the reality that even those closest to her couldn't always be a place to lean on. However, in such desperate circumstances, Hazel knew she didn't have time to blame anyone.

Hazel stared at her phone screen for a long time. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to compose the right words. She typed something repeatedly, then deleted it again.

What should she say? Thank you? No, she wasn't sure she could say it without feeling bitter. Angry? Pointless. Given her situation, she had no right to refuse help—even if the method was so painful. Finally, she just remained silent. No words were sufficient to describe her feelings at that moment.

But before she could take a deep breath, another notification appeared on the screen. "Come to my office. I have an offer that might save your mother. – Theo Filbert."

Her heart sank. Her eyes froze on the screen, rereading each word repeatedly, as if hoping the meaning would change. But the words remained the same. Brief, firm, and full of vague promises.

Hazel exhaled weakly, then smiled wryly. Of course. Her number had been spread. Now, even strangers knew about her difficulties. Her gaze remained fixed on the message. The offer hung in the air, like the only way out in the midst of emptiness. An opportunity... or perhaps a trap?

Theo Filbert. The name was not unfamiliar, though she had never directly crossed paths with him. She knew the man was no ordinary person—a man with power and wealth, two things Hazel had never possessed in her life. Her fingers clenched at her sides. There was doubt, there was fear, but there was also a small hope she tried to resist.

Though it sounded suspicious, Hazel knew she couldn't be choosy. If this was the only chance left, should she take it? Her throat felt dry. There was a creeping fear in her mind, but also a thin hope she had almost forgotten. With slightly trembling hands, Hazel gripped her phone tighter. She had to make a decision.

With trembling hands, Hazel typed a short reply. "Alright, I'll come." Her fingers felt stiff, as if they wanted to reject the command from her own mind. But Hazel knew she had no choice.

The atmosphere of the room, filled with the scent of medicines, felt silent, only broken by the hum of medical devices indicating her mother's condition. Hazel looked again at the pale face of the woman—her mother, a figure once full of smiles and warmth. Now, the weary lines and wrinkles on her face further emphasized the long struggle against the disease that continued to ravage her body.

The sky outside began to dim, the orange light of the setting sun creeping in through the window cracks. "Mom," Hazel whispered softly, her voice hoarse. "I promise I'll save you. I don't care how."

Though her heart was filled with doubt and fear, Hazel tried to instill a strong resolve within herself. She realized that time kept moving, and every second was so precious. Tears flowed down her cheeks, but Hazel quickly wiped them away.

This was not the time to cry. Not the time to wallow in sadness. This was the time to act, the time to fulfill the promise she had just made with all her conviction—even though deep down, Hazel knew the path she would take might be winding and full of risks.

A few hours later, Hazel stood in front of the Filbert Corporation building, towering majestically in the city center. Its glass walls reflected the twinkling lights of the metropolis that seemed never to sleep. Hazel hugged her thin coat tightly, trying to ward off the cold creeping onto her skin—whether from the piercing night air or the fear she couldn't dispel.

Her steps felt heavy as she entered the lobby of the large building. The atmosphere inside felt so foreign and intimidating. Shiny marble floors, towering crystal lights overhead, and a luxurious reception desk made Hazel feel small and unworthy of being there.

She bit her lip, holding back the growing anxiety. For the hospital bills, for her mother, Hazel knew she had to find money as quickly as possible, even if it meant facing situations far beyond her comfort zone.

"Miss Gabriella?"

The friendly yet professional voice of a secretary greeted her. The neatly dressed woman smiled politely. "Mr. Filbert is expecting you inside."

Hazel could only nod briefly, though her chest pounded. Her steps were heavy as she followed the secretary's direction toward a large room with a sturdy black wooden door.