Chapter 5 The Weight of Choices

Arianna's breath hitched, her eyes locked on Jace's. His thumb lingered on her cheek, warm against her skin, but she pulled away, stumbling back until the bar pressed into her spine. The medical file lay open between them, its stark pages screaming the truth: six months, maybe less.

"I can't," she whispered, shaking her head. "This is... it's too much."

Jace's expression didn't waver, but something flickered in his eyes-desperation, maybe, or something softer, something human. "I'm not asking for your heart, Arianna. Just your help."

Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Help? You're asking me to marry you, have your child, and-what? Watch you die?" Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated how it betrayed her. She barely knew this man, yet the thought of his life slipping away twisted something inside her.

Jace leaned against the bar, his shoulders slumping slightly. The whiskey glass sat forgotten, its amber contents catching the dim light. "You think this is easy for me? To admit I'm running out of time? To ask a stranger to carry the only legacy I'll leave behind?"

"Then why me?" she demanded again, her voice rising. "You could have anyone. Models, heiresses, women who'd jump at the chance to be Mrs. Hudson."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a moment, the cold, calculated billionaire was gone. "Because you're real," he said quietly. "That night at the gala... you didn't care about my name or my money. You saw me."

Arianna's throat tightened. She remembered that night-his sharp wit, the way his laugh had felt like a rare gift. They'd danced, talked for hours, and for one reckless moment, she'd let herself believe he was just a man, not a headline. But that was before the contract, before the tabloids, before the bruise on her neck and the lies that followed.

"I don't know you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not really."

"Then get to know me." He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Give me a week. Stay here, in my world. If you still want out after that, I'll tear up the contract. No questions."

She stared at him, searching for the catch. There was always a catch with men like Jace Hudson. But his eyes held no deception, only a quiet plea. She thought of her mother, frail and fading in that underfunded nursing home. She thought of the debt collectors' relentless calls, the clients who'd abandoned her after the tabloid scandal. And she thought of Jace-dying, alone, with an empire that meant nothing without someone to carry it forward.

"One week," she said finally, her voice trembling. "But no games, Jace. No more lies."

He nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "No lies."

That night, Arianna lay awake in the guest suite of Jace's penthouse, the city skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was bigger than her entire apartment, all sleek marble and soft linens, but it felt like a cage. She clutched her phone, rereading the last text from her mother: "Don't worry about me, sweetheart. Just take care of yourself."

She wanted to scream. Take care of herself? She was drowning in debt, her reputation in tatters, and now she was considering the unthinkable: tying her life to a man who was counting down his days. Yet, as she closed her eyes, she saw his face-the vulnerability he'd shown when he slid that medical file toward her. Because you're real.

The next morning, Jace was waiting in the dining room, a spread of breakfast laid out like a five-star hotel. He looked different in the morning light, less guarded, though shadows lingered under his eyes. "Sleep well?" he asked, pouring her coffee.

"Like a rock," she lied, taking the cup. "So, what's the plan? Parade me around another gala? More press releases?"

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "No. Today, you see the real Hudson Group."

They spent the day touring his company's headquarters, a gleaming tower that housed thousands of employees. Jace introduced her to engineers, analysts, even the janitorial staff, his knowledge of their names and lives startling her. He wasn't just a figurehead; he cared about these people. She saw it in the way he listened to a nervous intern's pitch, the way he promised a single mother a scholarship for her son.

By evening, they were back in his penthouse, sharing takeout on the terrace. The city hummed below, alive and indifferent. "Why do you care so much?" Arianna asked, picking at her noodles. "About the company, the employees. You could just... let it go."

Jace stared at the horizon. "It's all I have. My father built this, but I made it human. If it falls apart, so do their lives."

She studied him, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by the fading light. "You're not what I expected."

He met her gaze. "Good."