Chapter 2 Desperate Measures

"Savannah, are you okay?"

Rachel's voice crackled through the phone, soft and concerned, as Savannah slumped back against the couch. Her hands clutched the empty mug she had set aside earlier, still warm from the coffee she hadn't finished. It was a question Savannah had been dreading to answer all morning.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice tight. "Just... not feeling great today."

"Savannah, come on, talk to me. I can hear it in your voice. What happened?"

Savannah closed her eyes, briefly resting her forehead against her knees. The weight of the foreclosure notice was still there, pressing down on her chest like a physical burden. But she wasn't ready to tell Rachel, not like this. Rachel had enough of her own problems to deal with, she didn't need to carry Savannah's too.

"It's... nothing I can't handle. Just... some things piling up, you know?"

There was a long pause on the other end. Savannah could hear Rachel breathing, the soft rustling of something in the background.

"You sure? Because I know when something's really bothering you, and this isn't the usual 'I'm fine' tone. Come on, you can tell me. We've been through everything together."

Savannah swallowed, trying to fight the sudden lump in her throat. "It's just... the bills, Rachel. Everything's overdue, and I don't know how I'm going to keep up with it anymore. I feel like I'm drowning."

Rachel exhaled sharply on the other side of the line, her concern clear. "Savannah, I've been telling you this for months, why don't you just talk to someone? Get help. Maybe we can find a way to fix this together."

"I can't," Savannah said, the words coming out too quickly. "I can't ask anyone for help. Not with this. It's... it's too embarrassing."

Her words felt hollow, even to her. She knew Rachel would never judge her, but the fear of vulnerability gnawed at her. Asking for help was not something Savannah was used to. She had always prided herself on her independence. To admit that she was out of options, out of time... It felt like a betrayal of everything she had worked for.

Another long pause stretched between them, and Savannah could hear the quiet hum of traffic outside the window, the city moving on while she was stuck in her own turmoil.

"Savannah, listen to me," Rachel finally said, her voice firm, no longer the gentle reassurance Savannah had expected. "You don't have to go through this alone. But you have to start asking for help before it's too late."

Savannah felt a sharp pang in her chest. Rachel was right, but how could she ask for something like that? Her pride had always been her shield, the one thing that kept her from falling apart. If she let go of it now, if she admitted how much she was struggling, what did that say about her?

"I... I'll think about it," Savannah replied, her voice weak. She didn't know if she could bring herself to admit the full scope of her situation. Maybe later, when she had a clearer plan. But not now. Not yet.

Another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, sharper and more insistent than the first. It was as if the universe itself was reminding her of the clock ticking down, the days slipping away.

"I have to go," Savannah said quickly. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? Just... just give me a little space."

"Savannah, don't..." Rachel started, but Savannah had already ended the call.

She set the phone down beside her and stood up, feeling the weight of everything press down on her once again. She couldn't escape it. She couldn't hide from it. It was time to face it head-on, no matter how much it terrified her.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the door and hesitated. She didn't want to answer it, didn't want to face whatever reality awaited her on the other side. But she had no choice.

The moment she opened the door, her stomach clenched. Standing there in a dark suit, his expression unreadable, was the man she never thought she'd see again.

"Jackson Sterling," she whispered.

"Savannah Montgomery," he said smoothly, his voice colder than she remembered. His eyes flickered past her, sweeping over the house as if judging its worth. "We need to talk."

Savannah's heart thudded in her chest, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. Jackson Sterling was not the kind of man you expected to see standing on your doorstep. He was a billionaire, the heir to a vast fortune, power, influence, control. A man who lived in worlds she could only dream of. And now, here he was, standing in her modest doorway, looking as if he belonged here as much as she did in his world.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound composed, but the question sounded as small as she felt.

"I think you know why I'm here," Jackson replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he had already read her mind. He stepped forward, forcing her to step back, until he was inside. Savannah's skin prickled with an unfamiliar discomfort as he moved into her space, towering over her. He wasn't physically imposing, but there was a quiet power about him, a sense of entitlement that made her feel even smaller.

"Jackson, I, " she started, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Don't say it," he said coldly, his voice slipping into something darker. "I know all about your situation. I know you're facing foreclosure. And I know that, right now, you're about to lose everything."

Savannah's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't told anyone about the foreclosure, not even Rachel. How did he know?

"Who... who told you?" she demanded, her heart beginning to race.

"No one needed to tell me," Jackson said, his tone almost casual as he scanned the room. "You're not exactly hiding it well. Your credit reports are public. I have access to everything."

Savannah's face flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation. This was too much. Not only was he aware of her financial ruin, but he was treating her like a business deal.

"I don't need your pity," she snapped, backing away from him. "I'm handling this. I'll find a way."

Jackson's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "I'm not here to pity you, Savannah. I'm here to offer you a solution."

The words hung in the air like a promise, but Savannah couldn't grasp them, couldn't even comprehend them. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

"I don't need anything from you," she said, her voice trembling now.

Jackson took a step closer, his gaze steady and cold. "What if I told you that I can help you save your house? That I could make all this go away?"

Savannah's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

Jackson crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "I'm offering you a deal, Savannah. A marriage contract. You marry me, and in return, I'll pay off your debt. You'll never have to worry about foreclosure again."

Her blood ran cold at his words, and she opened her mouth to protest, but no words came. Instead, a cold shiver ran down her spine, and her mind went blank, unable to process the magnitude of what he was offering, or demanding.

"You've got one week to make a decision," Jackson said, turning toward the door. "Think about it."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Savannah standing in her empty living room, her world spinning faster than she could keep up with.