Mr. Billionaire Wants Me Back

Chapter One – Flora's POV

I stood in front of the rundown apartment complex, staring up at the cracks in the concrete as I fumbled for my keys. The building looked worse than it had yesterday if that was even possible-like it might collapse under the weight of its own neglect. The heavy humidity clung to my skin like guilt, pressing in from all sides. Still, I didn't move. Not yet.

My thoughts were spiraling, tangled in the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. Everything was slipping through my fingers-every plan, every hope, every carefully laid-out version of the future. The weight of it all settled in my chest like a brick I couldn't dislodge.

I hadn't seen Lucas in months, not since that awkward encounter at my college reunion. He'd been just as infuriating then as he was now-smug, unreadable, and far too used to getting his way. We'd exchanged a few words, enough to stir up memories and frustrations I thought I'd buried.

And now here I was, standing on a cracked sidewalk with a ring in my pocket and a deal hanging over my head.

The key finally turned in the lock with a reluctant click, and I pushed the door open, stepping into the dim warmth of the apartment. The air smelled faintly of chamomile tea and old wood-a scent I'd come to associate with my grandmother. She was curled up in her favorite chair near the window, a crocheted blanket draped across her thin legs. Her face lit up when she saw me, but even that small smile couldn't hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Flora, you're home early," she said softly. Her voice was just a whisper now, each syllable weighted with effort.

I returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Had to take care of some things."

She didn't ask what. She hadn't in a while. Lately, she'd been too tired to press for answers, but I could feel her eyes on me-always watching, always knowing when I was holding something back. And I was. I always was.

I set my bag down and walked over to her, crouching beside the chair. I took her hand in mine, the skin paper-thin and cold, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "How are you feeling today?" I asked gently, already bracing for the answer.

She gave a weak shrug. "I'm fine, dear. Just tired."

She was always tired. The doctors had said the cancer was progressing faster than expected, that the basic treatments weren't enough anymore. We needed specialists. We needed more time. We needed money.

I looked around the room, taking in the chipped paint, the sagging ceiling, and the heater that rattled more than it warmed. This wasn't the life we'd imagined. It wasn't the life she deserved. And I'd promised her better. I'd promised to take care of her.

Instead, I was considering marrying a man I barely trusted in exchange for a bank account and a bargaining chip.

Lucas had called me again last night, his voice infuriatingly calm as he repeated his offer like it was the most logical thing in the world. Two years. That was the deal. I'd wear his ring, pretend to be his wife, and he'd cover all of Grandma's medical expenses.

Just business, he'd said. A simple arrangement.

Simple. Right.

I had called him back later that evening. Not to accept, not yet. But I needed answers. I needed to know why me-why someone like Lucas, who could have anyone, would go through the trouble of finding me, offering me something like this. His answer had been vague. "You're the only one who makes sense."

Whatever that meant.

I looked down at the ring he'd given me to wear "for appearances." It was simple but beautiful-a thin platinum band with a single diamond that shimmered under the living room lamp. It didn't feel real. None of this did.

Two years, I told myself again. Just two years. It wasn't love. It wasn't forever. It was survival.

Grandma's voice broke through my thoughts. "Flora," she said, her tone soft but laced with concern. "You've been so distracted lately. What's going on?"

I hesitated. A lie formed instantly-something light and meaningless-but it felt wrong to use it. She deserved at least a piece of the truth.

"Nothing, Grandma," I said, forcing a smile. "Just... figuring things out."

Her tired eyes narrowed. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself too, not just me."

Her words hit harder than I expected. I'd been so wrapped up in making sure she was okay that I hadn't stopped to ask if I was. Most days I felt like a ghost-drifting from task to task, just barely tethered to my own body.

"I promise," I whispered.

She reached out and gently squeezed my hand. It took all her strength.

After I helped her to bed, I lingered in the kitchen with the light off, staring out the window into the dark. I didn't know what I was looking for-maybe a sign, maybe a reason to say no to Lucas.

But instead, I found myself pulling out my phone.

I tapped his name. It rang twice.

"You've decided," he said, not a question, but a statement.

I closed my eyes. "I'll do it."

He exhaled like he'd known all along. "Good. I'll send someone over tomorrow with the paperwork. And a car. You'll need to move into the penthouse by the end of the week."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "Penthouse?"

"Yes," he said, already sounding distracted. "We have to make it believable, Flora. If people think it's a real marriage, it'll be easier to manage appearances. And my father won't dig too deep."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream. But the sound of Grandma's coughing from the bedroom silenced every protest in my throat.

"Fine," I said.

We hung up without saying goodbye.

---

The next day moved quickly. Men in suits delivered papers, cars, and instructions. A woman named Beatrice came to measure me for "appearance wardrobes." She was sharp, efficient, and said almost nothing except "Turn," "Hold still," and "You'll need something more formal for the gala next week."

Apparently, I was also expected to attend a black-tie event next Friday, as Lucas's fiancée. The ink on the contract wouldn't even be dry yet.

By evening, the entire apartment felt different. Like a countdown had started. I packed slowly, trying not to make it feel permanent. Just two years, I reminded myself.

Grandma watched from her chair, eyes curious but quiet. I hadn't told her the full truth, not yet. Only that I had taken a new job and would be traveling often. That the money would be better. That she'd get the care she needed.

She smiled like she believed me.

---

The car Lucas sent was sleek and dark, the kind of luxury I had only ever seen on TV. The driver didn't say much-just opened the door and handed me a phone with a message from Lucas: "Welcome to your new life."

The penthouse was on the top floor of a glass building downtown. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Marble floors. Everything is pristine and quiet. It didn't feel like a home. It felt like a showroom.

Lucas was already there, leaning against the kitchen island, sipping whiskey.

"Everything okay with your grandmother?" he asked, not bothering with small talk.

"She's fine," I said. "Confused. But fine."

He nodded. "Good. There's something you should know."

I tensed. "What now?"

He set down his glass. "I didn't choose you just because of your situation. Or because you'd agree."

I stared at him. "Then why?"

He looked at me for a long moment, as if debating whether to tell me the truth. Then: "Because my father had you investigated."

"What?" I stepped back. "Why?"

Lucas's expression darkened. "Because he thought you were a threat. To me. To the company. I don't know what triggered it, but your name came up in a report last year. Your mother's history, your scholarship ties-he flagged it. Thought there was something off. I only found out because I hacked into his private files."

My heart pounded. "That makes no sense."

Lucas walked toward me slowly. "It does if you know my father. He's paranoid. Controlling. Obsessed with eliminating any risk to his image."

My throat was dry. "So what does that have to do with this marriage?"

He held my gaze. "This deal doesn't just get him off my back-it protects you. If he thinks you're with me, he won't touch you."

I sank onto the couch, reeling.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I whispered.

"Because I needed you to say yes on your own," he said. "Not out of fear."

The silence stretched between us.

I looked down at the ring, then back at him.

Maybe this wasn't just about saving Grandma anymore.

Maybe it never was.

---

Chapter Two – Flora's POV

The restaurant felt suffocating, the air thick with tension and the scent of overcooked ambition. Everything about it screamed wealth-the way the silverware caught the candlelight, the way the waiter hovered as if we were royalty, and the way the walls, lined in dark wood and framed with modern art, seemed to close in around me. But none of it impressed me. It only made me feel small like I was being swallowed whole by a world I didn't belong to.

And then there was the contract.

It sat in front of me like a taunt. Perfectly printed, perfectly legal, and perfectly terrifying. My name wasn't on it yet, but it might as well have been. I could already feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

A two-year marriage. No love. No strings. Just obligations and appearances. Just survival.

I glanced up at Lucas.

He was everything this place represented-polished, powerful, composed to the point of cruelty. His charcoal suit fit him like a second skin, and his fingers rested lazily on a crystal glass of whiskey, as though he had all the time in the world. There was a quiet arrogance in how he held himself, the kind that came from getting what he wanted without ever having to ask twice.

He didn't intimidate me.

He infuriated me.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" I asked finally, my voice a low murmur despite the hurricane of emotions crashing inside me.

Lucas didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, sharp, and calculated. "I wouldn't have come to you if I wasn't," he said, his voice smooth as marble. "We both get what we want. You get the money for your grandmother's treatment. I got out of the marriage my father was trying to force on me. Clean. Efficient."

His tone made my blood boil. Like this was nothing more than a business deal. A transaction.

"You make it sound so simple," I said bitterly. "Like marrying a stranger is just another bullet point on your to-do list."

He tilted his head, studying me. "Isn't it for you?"

My jaw clenched. "You're asking me to sell my future for a price tag."

"I'm offering you a way out," he countered. "I'm not the villain here, Flora. I'm not forcing you to do anything. I'm giving you a choice."

My fingers tightened around the napkin on my lap. "A choice between letting my grandmother die or tying myself to a man I don't trust."

Lucas shrugged. "Life's full of ugly choices."

He pushed the contract toward me, the motion so calm it made my skin crawl. A sleek silver pen lay on top of it, like a final temptation.

I didn't look at the paper. I couldn't. Instead, I stared at Lucas. "Why me?"

Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone so fast I almost missed it. "Because you're desperate. And because you're the only one who has something to gain without complicating things."

He didn't say it with malice, just cold honesty. Like he'd done the math and I was the most convenient solution. Not the best. Not the right. Just the least messy.

"You don't even like me," I said, trying to make sense of the madness.

"I don't have to," he replied. "We don't have to like each other. We just have to make it look real-for two years."

My laugh came out hollow. "And then what? We pretend none of this happened? Walk away like strangers?"

He nodded. "Exactly. No attachments. No regrets."

Regrets. That word burned.

I leaned back in my chair, my head spinning. This was insane. Marrying Lucas was insanity. But not marrying him meant losing my grandmother. And she didn't deserve that.

She was everything to me. The only family I had left. She'd raised me after my mother's death, working two jobs to keep food on the table and my dreams alive. Now she was wasting away in a hospital bed, and every day without treatment was another nail in her coffin.

I'd tried everything-grants, charity programs, even crowdfunding-but nothing came close to covering the cost. And time was running out.

"I don't want to owe you," I whispered.

"You won't," he said. "It's mutual. We use each other. Nothing more."

And yet, something in his voice made me pause. A tightness. A crack in the armor.

Maybe I wasn't the only one trapped.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me.

I reached for the pen. My hand hovered over it for a second too long.

Lucas watched me, his expression unreadable.

My fingers closed around the pen. The metal felt cold against my skin. I signed my name.

The sound of the pen scratching across the paper was deafening.

When I looked up, Lucas gave a slow, satisfied nod. He took the contract and placed it back into his briefcase with mechanical precision.

"Good," he said. "We'll arrange the details tomorrow. My lawyer will reach out to you. We'll draft a public announcement and plan a few appearances. The wedding can be small-just enough to convince the right people."

I couldn't speak.

This was done.

Final.

My fate was sealed in black ink.

I pushed back from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the polished floor. A few heads turned our way, but I didn't care. I needed air. Space. Anything that wasn't Lucas or that damn contract.

As I stood, Lucas did too.

"Flora," he said, stopping me.

I turned, slowly.

He hesitated, and then-softly, almost like it pained him-he said, "You're not the only one making sacrifices."

For a second, I thought I saw something real in his eyes. Sadness? Regret? But then it was gone, buried under layers of indifference.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My throat was tight, and my mind was spinning.

Outside, the night greeted me like a slap.

Cold. Harsh. Real.

The city lights blurred as I walked aimlessly down the sidewalk, the echo of my heels swallowed by traffic. People bustled around me, laughing, talking, living their lives freely.

And I had just signed mine away.

Two years.

Seven hundred and thirty days.

And not a single one of them would be mine.

I wrapped my arms around myself as if that could hold me together. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I already knew who it was. Probably the hospital again. Or maybe my grandmother, too tired to talk but still wanting to hear my voice.

I should've felt relief. The money was coming. She'd get the treatment. She'd live.

But all I felt was emptiness.

Lucas said this was simple. Clean. No regrets.

But I could already feel one sinking in, deep and cold.

I had signed the contract.

And with it, I'd given away more than my name.

I had given him a piece of my soul.

And the terrifying part?

I had no idea how much more he might take.

---

Chapter Three – Flora's POV

"Are you kidding me?" I snapped, my voice trembling with fury as I locked eyes with him across the small table. The café around us faded into the background-the clinking of cutlery, the soft chatter of other patrons-none of it mattered now.

Lucas didn't flinch. His expression was maddeningly calm, as if I were simply overreacting to bad weather instead of his absurd proposition. "Will you calm down and listen?" he said, folding his hands neatly on the table.

Calm down? I could hardly breathe. I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms to keep myself grounded. "You don't even know me. I don't know you. And now you want me to marry you?" My voice cracked with disbelief. "You must be insane."

His jaw tightened for a brief second, almost imperceptibly. Then his expression softened-just a little. "This isn't just some whim, Flora. This is for both our benefits."

I let out a bitter laugh. "For our benefit?" I leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "How is this a benefit to me? Because from where I'm sitting, you're the only one getting what you want."

Lucas leaned back slightly, gaze steady. "My father is threatening to force me into an arranged marriage. A real one, with a woman I've never met and don't intend to meet. I refuse to play along. So, I thought of an alternative-a contract marriage."

The words felt ridiculous even as they hung in the air. A contract marriage. Like this was some kind of business deal, not a life-changing decision.

"You marry me for two years," he continued, "and I'll pay for your grandmother's treatment. Every cent. Until she's well."

I froze. My mind stalled, the breath in my lungs catching. "How do you know about my grandmother?" My voice was low now, almost a whisper. Suddenly I felt exposed, like he had stripped away my armor.

Lucas gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable. "Does it matter who told me?" he said smoothly. "What matters is that we both get what we need. You need the money. I need freedom from my father's expectations. It's a simple exchange."

But nothing about this felt simple.

I shook my head, trying to pull myself out of the fog. "I'm not interested," I said firmly, though there was a tremor in my voice I couldn't hide.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the tiled floor. I didn't care if people were watching. I just needed to get out of there.

"Flora," he said behind me, his tone sharper now, almost cutting. "Have you forgotten? She only has two months left if her treatment isn't stepped up immediately."

I stopped in my tracks. My heart dropped into my stomach.

Two months.

Those words echoed in my head, over and over, louder than the clamor of the café, louder than the fear in my chest. My legs felt heavy as I slowly turned back around to face him.

He wasn't wrong. As much as I hated it, he wasn't lying. I'd heard the same thing from the doctors last week. Without more advanced treatment-treatment we couldn't afford-my grandmother's condition would worsen. Rapidly.

My jaw clenched, and I lowered myself back into the chair, my hands shaking slightly as I stared at the contract now lying neatly in front of me.

"You're asking me to marry you for two years," I said slowly. "No strings attached, nothing more?"

Lucas nodded. "That's right. Two years. No more, no less." He leaned back, voice composed again. "After that, we go our separate ways. Clean break. You'll be free, and so will I."

I stared at the document. The text swam before my eyes, full of legal language I could barely process. But the basics were clear. Marriage. Two years. Confidentiality. No expectations beyond appearances. Full medical coverage for my grandmother, no questions asked.

It felt like I was selling my soul. Like I was signing away my freedom for a chance at saving someone I loved.

But what choice did I really have?

I took a deep breath and reached for the pen, my fingers trembling slightly. As I pressed the tip to the paper, I tried to remind myself: This is a business deal. Nothing more. You're doing this for her.

The moment my signature hit the page, a strange calm settled over me. Like I'd finally jumped off a cliff I'd been standing at the edge of for far too long.

Lucas leaned forward, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good. No additional years. After the two years, we're done."

I nodded numbly. "Neither do I," I muttered, standing up. The chair scraped again, but this time it felt final, like a door closing behind me. I didn't look back as I walked out of the café, the cool wind slapping my cheeks the moment I stepped outside.

My mind was a chaotic storm of thoughts, emotions crashing into each other without order. What had I just agreed to? Who was this man, really? And what would become of me after those two years?

---

I wandered through the city for hours, unsure of where to go. Everything felt surreal, like I was dreaming, but the ache in my chest told me this was all too real.

I finally made it home after sunset. My apartment was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the noise in my head. I sat on the couch, still in my coat, and stared at nothing for a long time.

This was my life now.

A knock at the door startled me. I wasn't expecting anyone. My heart jumped. I moved cautiously, peeking through the peephole.

Lucas.

Of course.

I opened the door slowly, arms crossed. "What are you doing here?"

He stood casually in the hallway, a folder in one hand and a phone in the other. "I came to deliver the signed copy of the contract. And to discuss a few things."

"Can't this wait?" I asked, the exhaustion catching up to me all at once.

He tilted his head slightly. "Unfortunately, no. We have to announce the engagement within the week. My father's expecting a public statement."

I blinked at him. "You're serious?"

He handed me the folder. "You signed a deal. It starts now."

I took the folder reluctantly, then stepped aside to let him in. He walked in like he belonged there, and I hated how effortless it seemed.

We sat across from each other at the kitchen table. He laid out a calendar, some papers, and a phone already filled with press contacts and draft announcements.

"This is insane," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

Lucas's voice was calm, measured. "It's just business. Keep remembering that."

But that was the problem.

It wasn't just business.

It was my life.

And I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into.

---