The sterile scent of disinfectant filled the hallway of NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. Riley Bennett sat on a cold metal bench, clutching the diagnosis that had knocked the breath out of her chest.
"Malignant pleural mesothelioma. Terminal stage."
The doctor's words still echoed in her ears, each syllable like a sledgehammer to the heart. Her mother—the woman who once carried herself with the grace of a swan—now lay in a hospital bed, her face pale as paper.
"Miss Bennett, I know this is difficult to accept, but we must proceed with surgery immediately," the attending physician said gently, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The cost will be around five hundred thousand dollars, including follow-up chemotherapy and rehabilitation."
Half a million dollars.
Riley's hands trembled. Her bank account barely held $3,000. On top of that, her father's legacy—a $250,000 high-interest loan—had creditors breathing down her neck.
"I… I need some time to think," she rasped, her voice dry as sandpaper.
"Riley, there isn't much time," the doctor said gravely. "We have, at most, one week to begin treatment."
Outside, October in New York was already biting cold. Riley pulled her thin coat tighter around her and walked toward the subway station. Her phone rang—it was an unfamiliar number.
"Miss Bennett? This is regarding your father's outstanding debt…"
She hung up immediately. The phone rang again. Another debt collector.
Back in her small Brooklyn apartment, Riley collapsed onto the couch. This one-bedroom was all she and her mother had left. The $2,800 monthly rent alone was already suffocating her. Her journalism degree still hung on the wall—a relic from a time when she believed she'd become a journalist who would change the world.
Reality was cruel. She was now a freelance writer, mostly producing articles for obscure magazines, occasionally dabbling in screenwriting. The pay was inconsistent and meager.
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was her best friend, Sophie Blake.
"Riley? You sound… off. What's going on?"
"Mom needs surgery. Half a million dollars." Her tone was eerily calm. "I don't have the money."
There was a heavy pause on the other end.
"Oh God… Riley. I know this is insane, but—have you considered… other options?"
"What options?" Riley scoffed. "I've sold everything I can. No bank will give me a loan, and my credit's trashed thanks to Dad's debts."
"Okay, I know this sounds crazy, but… have you ever thought about… marrying rich?"
Riley nearly choked on her own spit. "Sophie, are you serious?"
"I am. There's a charity gala this weekend at the Waldorf in Manhattan. The city's elite will be there. I can get you an invitation."
"And what? Walk in and say, 'Hi, I need $500K to save my mom. Will you marry me?'"
"Riley, I know you're proud. But pride won't save your mom." Sophie's tone turned firm. "You're smart. You're beautiful. If you could find the right man—"
"I'm not that kind of woman, Sophie."
"I know. But sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to."
After the call ended, Riley sat in front of her laptop, staring at the balance on her screen: $2,847.32. She opened a blank Word document and began to write. It was the only thing she truly knew how to do—process her emotions through words.
She was just an ordinary girl, trapped in an extraordinary crisis. A mother on the brink, creditors circling, and no escape in sight. Every path was lined with thorns.
She stopped typing. This wasn't a story.This was her life.
That evening, Riley visited her mother in the hospital. Linda Bennett was awake, gazing out the window at the city lights.
"Mom, the doctors say the surgery has a good chance," Riley said, gripping her mother's hand, trying to sound upbeat.
"Riley… we both know we don't have the money." Her mother's voice was frail, but her eyes were clear. "I don't want to be your burden."
"Don't say that. I'll find a way."
"Your father's debts already ruined so much. I won't let them ruin your future too."
Tears welled up and spilled down Riley's cheeks. "I won't let you die, Mom. I swear."
Back home, Riley picked up her phone and sent Sophie a message:
"About that charity gala… I need the invitation."
She knew this was insane. But she had no choice. For her mother, she would try anything—even marrying a stranger.
She opened her closet. It contained only a few cheap outfits. Nothing remotely suitable for high society. She couldn't afford a proper gown.
Another problem to solve.
She grabbed her notebook and started making a list:
Find a suitable dress
Learn how to talk to the wealthy
Research the backgrounds of key gala attendees
Prepare a story that could move hearts
She paused, staring at the ridiculous checklist. Three days ago, she'd been a struggling screenwriter with a dream. Now she was planning to marry rich to survive.
But when she pictured her mother's pale face… when she remembered that number—$500,000—she knew she had no way out.
Desperation, she realized, could make anyone brave.
Riley Bennett had made up her mind. She would go to that gala. She would find someone who could help.
No matter the cost.