Chapter 3 Let's Just Get Married

The hospital room turned oddly quiet, like even the air was holding its breath.

Dayna stayed still, barely breathing, waiting for Kristopher's response.

But instead of a nod or a rejection, she was met with a sharp scoff.

Kristopher's voice was low and laced with ice. He lifted his gaze, and in that one look, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. "Dayna, what makes you think you have the right to bargain with someone like me?"

But Dayna didn't flinch. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her expression calm, unwavering.

Her naturally striking features were now touched by a delicate vulnerability, making her look hauntingly beautiful.

"What if I told you... I could help you walk again?"

That caught him off guard.

His expression flickered, if only for a heartbeat. His hand gripped the armrest tighter.

Was she insane? Or worse-was this some cruel game meant to dangle hope in front of him, only to snatch it away?

What kind of game was she playing now?

Fury bubbled just under Kristopher's skin, pounding at his temples.

Before he could utter a word, Dayna slipped out of bed and lowered herself calmly in front of him.

"Start now, and I promise you'll see results in three months," she said gently, reaching out as her hand moved toward his leg.

But right when her fingertips were about to touch him, Kristopher's body reacted on instinct.

With lightning speed, he grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly enough to make her wince.

Dayna looked up at him, her eyes wide but unafraid.

He was furious and his grip punishing. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He spat the words out through gritted teeth, barely restraining the storm churning inside him.

Pity? Tricks? More lies? He wasn't having any of it.

His grip tightened, harsh enough to leave marks.

His presence was suffocating, and Dayna found herself gasping for air.

Her lashes trembled. Her already pale face seemed more delicate now, and her eyes were faintly red as though she were on the edge but holding on.

Something in him tensed. With a growl, he shoved her hand aside.

She staggered but steadied herself quickly, and this time, reached again without pause.

Her fingers were elegant yet steady. She moved with confidence, pressing expertly along key nerve points on his calf like someone deeply familiar with the human body.

Then, something unbelievable happened.

A surge of feeling shot through his leg-sharp, electric, and alive.

Kristopher's brows shot up in disbelief.

He could feel it-his leg. Real sensation.

And it was her doing.

Dayna looked up at him with calm certainty. "So? How does that feel, Mr. Hudson?"

Kristopher didn't respond right away. He stared at her like he was seeing her for the very first time. Like he couldn't quite decide if she was a liar, a miracle, or both.

Finally, his voice came, low and even. "What do you want in return?"

Dayna's eyes turned steely, her voice low but pulsing with long-buried rage. "Help me crush Foster Group and reclaim everything my mother was robbed of."

Was she seriously asking him to dismantle Foster Group from the ground up?

A short, humorless laugh escaped Kristopher's lips. "You want me to go after your dear husband's empire? Is this another one of your twisted games? Don't forget-you betrayed me once. That project you backed out of and handed to Declan? It cost me tens of billions. Wasn't that stab in the back deep enough for you?"

Dayna lowered her gaze, her lashes trembling faintly. She didn't argue because there was nothing she could say to undo the past.

In truth, that single loss should've been a blip on Hudson Group's radar. But when Kristopher vanished after the project failed, the company pulled out of every joint deal, and the cracks widened from there.

That was when Foster Group slithered in, seizing the chaos as an opportunity and rising overnight as a corporate juggernaut.

She didn't want to rewind the clock. The past was poison. With quiet resolve and a clear gaze, she said, "Give me three months. I'll have you walking again. That's all I ask."

Kristopher didn't blink. His expression was still impossible to read.

She bit down on her lip, fighting the urge to retreat. She wasn't backing down either. "If you don't believe me, we can write it up. Sign a contract. If I can't do it, I'll..."

She hadn't even finished her thought when Kristopher's voice cut in sharply.

This time, his tone had shifted-measured, calculating, still laced with coldness.

"We can strike the deal you want, but what I need from you now is an heir," he said flatly.

The words hit her like a slap. Her eyes widened, her body tensing in disbelief.

An heir?

Did he mean... she had to leave Declan, marry him, and bear his child?

He caught the hesitation in her eyes and gave a dry, mocking laugh.

Of course. She was still shackled to Declan-emotionally, mentally. Pathetic.

"You can't even handle one condition? Then there's nothing more to talk about."

With that, Kristopher spun his wheelchair around and headed for the exit.

"Wait!" she called out.

Panic clawed at her throat. She moved to go after him, but her knees buckled-still too frail to hold her up.

Her sight blurred.

She could feel herself collapsing-fast and unsteady, headed toward the wall.

However, Kristopher moved on instinct and caught her by the waist before she hit the floor.

In that moment, the distance between them disappeared completely.

His crisp, woodsy scent, like cedar in snowy winter, surrounded her, strangely comforting, almost addictive.

Somehow... it felt familiar, though she couldn't place where she'd smelled it before.

When she glanced up, the cold rage in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.

"Are you finished putting on a show?" he said sharply.

Dayna's body shook slightly. After a few breaths, she regained control, straightened up in his arms, and stepped back. "No, I'm not done. I was going to say that I agree to your condition. Let's just... get married."