Chapter 3 The Price of Desperation

The subway ride back to Brooklyn felt like traveling through a tunnel between two different worlds. In Manhattan, I had been surrounded by marble and mahogany, threatened and propositioned by a billionaire who knew more about my life than I knew about his. Now, as the train clattered through the darkness, I was just Flora Bennett again-a woman with paint under her fingernails and a contract in her purse that could save or destroy everything I held dear.

My phone buzzed again. Another text from Tommy: "Mom collapsed. We're back in ER. Come now."

The world tilted sideways. I pressed my face against the cold subway window, watching Brooklyn rush past in a blur of familiar streets and unfamiliar terror. Victoria's words echoed in my mind like a warning bell, but they seemed insignificant now compared to the possibility that I might lose my mother while I was playing games with billionaires.

The hospital smelled the same as always-antiseptic and desperation mixed with the faint aroma of cafeteria coffee that had been sitting too long. I found Tommy in the waiting room, his head buried in his hands, his sandy brown hair sticking up at odd angles from where he had been running his fingers through it.

"What happened?" I dropped into the plastic chair beside him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"She was trying to make dinner when I got home from school." His voice was muffled, but I could hear the fear threading through every word. "She just... fell. Started clutching her chest and couldn't breathe."

Before I could respond, Dr. Martinez appeared in front of us. I had grown to dread the sight of him over the past few months, not because he wasn't kind, but because every conversation we had seemed to involve more tests, more procedures, more money we didn't have.

"Flora, Tommy." He sat down across from us, his expression grave. "We need to talk."

"How bad is it?" I asked, though part of me didn't want to know the answer.

"Your mother's heart is failing faster than we anticipated. She needs surgery within the next two weeks, or..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

"Two weeks?" Tommy's voice cracked. "But the insurance company said-"

"The insurance company's decision doesn't change the medical reality." Dr. Martinez leaned forward, his eyes kind but urgent. "Without intervention, Sarah won't see Christmas."

Christmas was three months away.

The contract in my purse suddenly felt like it was burning a hole through the leather. Harris Kingston's words came back to me with crystal clarity: "I can make all of that disappear with one signature on a marriage certificate."

"There has to be another way," Tommy said desperately. "A payment plan, charity care, something-"

"We've explored every option," Dr. Martinez said gently. "I'm sorry."

After he left, Tommy and I sat in silence for what felt like hours. Through the window, I could see the lights of Manhattan twinkling in the distance like stars that were too far away to wish upon.

"Flora?" Tommy's voice was small, younger than his sixteen years. "What are we going to do?"

I thought about the contract folded neatly in my purse. I thought about Harris Kingston's steel-gray eyes and Victoria's warning about hidden clauses and secret agendas. I thought about my mother lying in a hospital bed, her heart literally breaking while I debated whether to sell my soul to save her.

"I might have a solution," I said quietly. "But you're not going to like it."

When I explained Harris's proposal, leaving out the more disturbing details about his surveillance and Victoria's cryptic warnings, Tommy's face went through a dozen different emotions. Disbelief gave way to anger, anger to desperation, and desperation to something that looked disturbingly like relief.

"A year," he said finally. "Just one year, and Mom lives. I get to go to college. We keep the house."

"It's not that simple, Tommy. This man is dangerous. I don't know what he really wants from me."

"What he wants doesn't matter." Tommy grabbed my hands, his green eyes blazing with fierce determination. "What matters is that Mom gets to live. What matters is that we don't lose everything Dad left us drowning in."

His words hit me like physical blows, but I knew he was right. Whatever Harris Kingston's real agenda might be, whatever Victoria knew that I didn't, none of it mattered if my mother died because I was too proud or too scared to accept help.

"There's something else," I said, pulling out my phone. "I need to call him tonight. The deadline-"

"Then call him." Tommy stood up, suddenly looking more like a man than a boy. "Call him right now."

I stepped outside the hospital into the cool autumn air and dialed the number on Harris's business card. He answered on the second ring, as if he had been waiting.

"Flora." His voice was warm, intimate in a way that made my pulse quicken despite everything. "Have you made your decision?"

"Yes." The word came out steadier than I felt. "But I have conditions."

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, what might have been amusement. "I'm listening."

"My mother gets the best cardiac surgeon in the country, not just any doctor you choose. Tommy gets full control over his college applications-no interference from you. And I want to see every clause of that contract, including whatever Victoria was talking about."

"Victoria spoke to you about the contract?" His voice had gone dangerous, the warmth evaporating instantly.

"She mentioned hidden clauses. Something about what happens when the year is up." I took a deep breath. "If we're going to do this, I need complete transparency."

Another pause, longer this time. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled. "Meet me at my penthouse tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. We'll go through every line of the contract together."

"Fine." I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Harris, why me? Really why me? Because if this is some kind of game-"

"It's not a game, Flora." The way he said my name made something flutter in my chest, something I didn't want to examine too closely. "Tomorrow night, you'll understand everything."

The line went dead, leaving me standing outside the hospital with my phone pressed to my ear and the distinct feeling that I had just agreed to something far more complicated than a simple business arrangement.

When I walked back inside, Tommy was sitting beside my mother's bed. She was awake, her face pale but her eyes alert as they talked in low voices. When she saw me, she smiled-that same gentle smile that had gotten us through Dad's worst days.

"Flora, sweetheart. Tommy told me you might have found a way to help with the medical bills."

I sat down on the edge of her bed, taking her thin hand in both of mine. "Maybe, Mom. But it's complicated."

"The best solutions usually are." She squeezed my hand with what little strength she had. "Whatever you decide, I trust you. You've never let this family down."

As I looked into her hazel eyes-eyes that had seen too much pain, too much struggle, too much loss-I knew I had already made my choice. Tomorrow night, I would walk into Harris Kingston's penthouse and sign my name to a contract that would bind me to a man I barely knew for reasons I didn't understand.

But tonight, I would sit beside my mother's hospital bed and pretend that I wasn't terrified of what I had agreed to do.

Tommy's phone buzzed, and his face went white as he read the message.

"Flora," he whispered, showing me the screen. "Look at this."

The text was from an unknown number, but the message was clear: "Your sister is making a mistake. Ask Harris about the other women. Ask him what happened to them. A friend."

My blood turned to ice as I stared at the words. What other women? And more importantly, who knew enough about my situation to send this warning?

I looked up to find Tommy watching me with fear in his green eyes.

"Flora," he whispered, "what have you gotten yourself into?"