The hospital corridor smelled like antiseptic and fear.
Alina Hart sat on a hard plastic chair outside the intensive care unit, her fingers trembling around a stack of unpaid bills. The fluorescent lights above her flickered softly, as if even they were exhausted.
$487,230.
The number stared back at her like a cruel joke.
Her father had always been strong — the kind of man who fixed broken chairs instead of replacing them, who skipped meals so she could eat better food during exams.
Now he lay unconscious behind a glass wall, machines breathing for him.
And she couldn't even afford to keep him alive.
"Miss Hart?"
She looked up slowly.
A man in a perfectly tailored black suit stood before her. He didn't belong in this hospital. His shoes were too polished. His expression too calm.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Adrian Vale would like to speak with you."
Her heart skipped.
Adrian Vale.
Everyone knew that name.
CEO of Vale Enterprises. Billionaire. Private. Untouchable.
"What does he want from me?" she asked quietly.
The man didn't answer. He simply gestured toward the private consultation room at the end of the hallway.
Her legs felt heavy as she walked.
When she pushed the door open, she expected arrogance.
Instead, she found silence.
Adrian Vale sat near the window, city lights reflecting faintly against the glass behind him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't intimidating.
He just looked… composed.
And tired.
He stood when she entered.
That surprised her.
"Miss Hart," he said softly.
His voice wasn't cold.
It was steady.
She crossed her arms, holding herself together. "Why am I here?"
His dark eyes held hers for a moment too long — not in a way that felt invasive.
In a way that felt… careful.
"Your father's condition is critical," he said.
She swallowed. "I know."
"I can pay for the surgery. The aftercare. All outstanding bills."
Her breath stopped.
The world narrowed.
"Why?" she whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached into a leather folder and placed a document on the table between them.
A contract.
"Marry me."
The words didn't feel real.
She stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
It never came.
"You're joking."
"I don't joke about marriage."
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
"This is insane. You don't even know me."
His gaze softened — just slightly.
"I know enough."
Her chest tightened.
"I don't want love," he continued calmly. "I don't expect affection. I won't demand anything from you beyond appearances."
She shook her head. "Then why would you do this?"
Silence stretched between them.
And then he said something that made her heart falter.
"I need someone who won't leave."
It wasn't dominance.
It wasn't power.
It sounded like fear.
"And you think that's me?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
"I think," he said quietly, "you understand what it feels like to lose everything."
The room felt smaller.
Her father's medical monitor beeped faintly from down the hall.
Time was running out.
"How long?" she whispered.
"One year."
"And after that?"
"I'll set you free."
Free.
The word should have comforted her.
But the way he said it…
Like he was already preparing for the pain of letting her go.
Her hands trembled as she looked at the contract again.
Her father's life.
One signature.
One year.
One man she barely knew.
"What's the catch?" she asked.
He met her gaze steadily.
"There isn't one."
She almost believed him.
Almost.
But something in his eyes told her this wasn't a business deal.
It was something much more dangerous.
Something neither of them was ready to name.
Outside the room, the ICU alarm suddenly beeped louder.
Her heart dropped.
And Adrian Vale stepped closer — not touching her.
Just close enough to say quietly,
"You don't have much time, Alina."
The way he said her name…
As if it mattered.
Her fingers tightened around the pen.
And she realized—
The price of her father's life…
Was herself.