Stella's POV

The world stops spinning.

My hands shake as I grip the doorframe, staring at the nightmare unfolding before me. The air feels thick, suffocating, reeking of betrayal and sweat.

There he is. Viktor. My fiancé. The man who promised me forever just weeks ago.

He's scrambling on the floor like a trapped animal, yanking his pants up his legs while his face turns ghost-white. His dark hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, and his mouth hangs open in shock.

Behind him, some woman I've never seen before clutches our silk sheets against her naked chest. Her blonde hair is a mess, her lipstick smeared across her mouth. When our eyes meet, pure terror flashes across her face before she bolts toward the bathroom.

The door slams shut behind her.

Smart move.

"Stella, baby, this isn't what you think." Viktor's voice cracks as he stumbles to his feet.

A laugh bubbles up from somewhere dark inside me. Cold and hollow.

"Really? Because it looks like you're screwing some random woman in our bed."

My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. Calm. Detached. Like I'm commenting on the weather instead of watching my entire future crumble.

I take a step forward, my heels clicking against the hardwood we picked out together. Everything in this apartment tells the story of us. The photos on the mantle. The furniture we argued over. The life we were supposed to build.

All of it feels like a lie now.

"I buried my father this morning." The words come out quiet, but they cut through the room like a blade.

Viktor flinches. Good. He should flinch.

"I came here because I needed my fiancé. Because I thought you would hold me while I fell apart." My hands ball into fists at my sides. "Instead, I find you with your tongue down some stranger's throat."

"Stella, please, let me explain-"

"Explain what exactly?" I gesture toward our bed, where the sheets are still warm from their bodies. "How your dick accidentally ended up inside her?"

His face goes red. "It was a mistake. I wasn't thinking clearly-"

"Stop talking."

The words snap out of me with more force than I intended, but I can't listen to his pathetic excuses. Not today. Not after everything.

Viktor reaches for me, his fingers barely grazing my arm before I jerk away like he's poison.

"Don't you dare touch me."

Something breaks in his expression. Desperation maybe. Or guilt. I don't care which.

"I love you," he whispers.

The laugh that escapes me is bitter enough to taste. "You love me? Is that what you call this?"

I should be screaming. Throwing things. Making him hurt the way he's just destroyed me. But I can't find the energy. Half my world already ended this morning when we lowered my father into the ground.

Now the other half is burning down around me.

"You said forever." My voice cracks despite my best efforts. "You promised me forever, Viktor."

He swallows hard, his throat working like he's choking on his own guilt. "I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I can fix this. We can fix this."

"No." The word comes out steady. Final. "We can't."

I turn around and walk toward the door, my legs somehow still carrying me even though everything inside feels shattered.

"Stella, wait!" His footsteps pound behind me, but I don't stop. Can't stop.

The apartment door closes with a soft click, and I'm alone in the hallway. The silence feels deafening after all that chaos.

I walk through the building like a ghost, past the doorman who knew us as a couple, past the life we were supposed to have together. The night air hits my face as I step onto the sidewalk, but I barely feel it.

My parents' house is dark when I arrive. Mom went to bed early after the funeral, exhausted from grief and saying goodbye to neighbors. I left her sleeping peacefully when I went to see Viktor hours ago.

God, I wish I had stayed home.

The front door creaks as I push it open. Everything looks exactly the same, but it feels different somehow. Like the house knows I'm not the same woman who left earlier today.

"Mom?" I call softly, not wanting to wake her if she's still resting.

No answer.

My heels echo against the hardwood as I make my way toward the kitchen, planning to grab some water before heading upstairs to my old bedroom. Maybe if I sleep, this whole day will feel like a nightmare when I wake up.

That's when I see her.

My mother. Lying motionless on the kitchen floor.

The world tilts sideways.

"Mom?" My voice breaks as I rush forward, dropping to my knees beside her still form.

She doesn't respond. Doesn't move.

My hands shake violently as I check for a pulse, for breathing, for any sign of life. Her skin burns with fever, and when I roll up her sleeve, I see angry red marks scattered along her arm.

Burns. Fresh ones.

What happened here?

"Mom, please wake up." I shake her shoulders, panic clawing at my chest. "Please, I need you to wake up."

Nothing.

The room spins around me as I fumble for my phone, my fingers barely working as I dial 911. The ringing seems to last forever.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My mother," I gasp out, pressing my free hand against her burning forehead. "She's unconscious. There are burns on her arm. Please hurry."

The operator asks questions, but her voice sounds muffled and far away. All I can focus on is my mother's pale face, the way she's not responding to anything.

"Please don't leave me too," I whisper, leaning down until my forehead touches hers. "I can't lose you too. Not today."

...

Stella's POV

The hospital corridors stretched endlessly before me, fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across white linoleum floors. Antiseptic burned my nostrils while the steady beep of machines created a haunting symphony of life hanging in the balance.

They had rushed my mother through those double doors twenty minutes ago. The paramedics shouting orders, nurses running alongside the gurney, her pale hand slipping from mine as they disappeared behind steel barriers that might as well have been prison walls.

Now I waited. Alone.

My legs felt unsteady beneath me, threatening to buckle as I paced the narrow hallway. She had been laughing at breakfast this morning, teasing me about my messy hair. Tired, yes, but alive. Vibrant. How had everything changed so quickly?

"Miss Gianna?" A soft voice broke through my spiraling thoughts.

I spun around to face a nurse with kind eyes and worry lines etched deep around her mouth.

"Yes?" The word scraped against my throat.

"Dr. Martinez would like to speak with you."

My stomach dropped. I nodded, following her wooden steps toward the consultation room where my fate waited.

Dr. Martinez emerged from the surgical wing, his scrubs wrinkled and exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. The grim set of his jaw told me everything before he spoke a single word.

"Doctor?" I managed to whisper.

"Your mother experienced a massive heart attack. The damage to her cardiac muscles is extensive," he said, his voice clinical and detached. "She needs immediate bypass surgery or she won't survive the week."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "Then do the surgery."

He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. "The operation costs fifty-eight thousand dollars upfront. Insurance?"

"No insurance." The admission felt like swallowing glass.

"Family members who might assist financially?"

I wanted to laugh. What family? My father had abandoned us when I was twelve, leaving nothing but empty beer bottles and unpaid bills. My mother had been my entire world, working double shifts to put me through college while her own health deteriorated.

"None," I whispered.

Dr. Martinez sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "You have twenty-four hours to secure payment. After that, her condition will deteriorate beyond surgical intervention."

Twenty-four hours. Fifty-eight thousand dollars. Numbers that might as well have been a million.

The doctor disappeared down the corridor, leaving me drowning in impossible mathematics. I collapsed into a plastic waiting room chair, my vision blurring as panic clawed at my chest.

Who could I possibly ask? My college friends were as broke as me, surviving on ramen and student loans. My mother's coworkers at the diner barely made minimum wage. There was literally no one.

Except...

My stomach turned to ice as Viktor's face flashed through my mind. My ex-fiancé. The man I had walked away from just weeks ago after discovering his affairs. Rich enough to consider fifty-eight thousand pocket change, powerful enough to make one phone call and solve everything.

But the thought of crawling back to him, of begging the man who had betrayed me, made bile rise in my throat. I could picture his reaction perfectly - that smug smile, the way he would lean back in his leather chair and make me grovel. He would help, eventually, but the price would be my soul.

My mother would rather die than accept his dirty money. And honestly, I might prefer death to the humiliation.

A voice from the nearby television cut through my desperation.

"Phil Brooks, CEO of Brooks Enterprises, announced today that his company has acquired three major manufacturing plants, solidifying his position as one of the country's youngest billionaires..."

I lifted my head, drawn to the familiar name like a moth to flame.

There he was on the screen. Phil Brooks. Viktor's older stepbrother. Dark hair slicked back with precision, sharp suit tailored to perfection, those cold obsidian eyes that seemed to see straight through people's lies.

The most dangerous man in the business world, according to Forbes.

And the man who despised Viktor with every fiber of his being.

The memory crashed into me like a tidal wave. Viktor's birthday party, six months ago. The night he had proposed, the night I thought my fairy tale was beginning.

I had been floating on clouds, showing off my engagement ring to anyone who would look, when I had nearly collided with Phil in the hallway outside the restroom. He had been smoking, leaning against the wall like a predator waiting for prey.

"Congratulations," he had said, but his tone suggested anything but celebration.

"Thank you," I had replied, unsure why his presence made my skin crawl.

He had taken a long drag from his cigarette, studying me through the smoke. "You know he's cheating on you, right?"

The words had hit like a physical blow. "Excuse me?"

"My stepbrother has never been faithful to anyone in his life. You're just the latest in a very long line."

I should have walked away. Should have defended Viktor. Instead, I had found myself frozen, caught in Phil's magnetic pull.

"Why would you tell me this?" I had whispered.

His smile had been sharp as a blade. "Because you're too smart to waste yourself on someone so pathetic."

Then he had straightened, flicking ash onto the marble floor. "When you finally see him for what he really is, remember that I'm richer than him. Much richer."

At the time, I had thought he was just being cruel. Testing me. Playing some twisted family game.

Now, staring at his face on the television screen as he commanded a room full of reporters, I understood. It hadn't been a threat.

It had been an offer.

Phil Brooks had money. More money than Viktor could ever dream of. He had power that stretched across continents. And most importantly, he hated his stepbrother enough to do anything that would hurt him.

Including helping his ex-fiancée.

My hands stopped shaking as clarity cut through my panic. This was insane. Dangerous. Probably stupid.

But it was my only chance.

I needed fifty-eight thousand dollars in twenty-four hours.

And I knew exactly where to find it.

...

Stella's POV

If my suspicions about Phil Brooks were completely off base, the worst outcome would be crushing humiliation. That seemed insignificant compared to everything hanging in the balance. But if I remained passive, if I refused to even attempt reaching out for his assistance, and my mother's health deteriorated further, or even worse happened...

The guilt would consume me for the remainder of my existence.

I released a trembling breath, commanding my unsteady limbs to lift me from the chair.

The decision was final.

My path was chosen.

I retrieved my phone and looked up Brooks Enterprises' location. Years ago, I had visited the area occasionally when Viktor would treat me to expensive lunches at upscale establishments near his brother's corporate headquarters. The precise street address had slipped my memory completely.

At minimum, I knew Phil remained in the city.

I examined my appearance, noting the plain black dress I had selected for my father's funeral service earlier.

My hair remained secured in its simple bun, loose wisps escaping after the emotionally draining day.

I resembled someone deep in mourning.

Which accurately described my current state.

I was grieving my father's passing, the future I had envisioned, the man I believed cherished me, and the stability I had trusted completely.

Currently, I possessed absolutely nothing.

Apart from this single, reckless, desperate strategy.

Thirty minutes passed before the imposing glass structure of Brooks Enterprises rose before me, its razor-sharp architecture cutting through the early morning darkness.

The metropolis remained in slumber, sidewalks nearly empty, yet this establishment, this business empire Phil had constructed through sheer determination, was already operational at four in the morning.

Several expensive vehicles occupied the exclusive parking section, their polished surfaces reflecting the amber glow of overhead lighting.

I drew in a steadying breath, gathering my courage.

I understood the slim likelihood of immediate access to his presence. Corporate executives rarely arrive for work at such an ungodly hour. However, alternatives didn't exist. I would provide my contact information to the front desk staff and hope desperately that Phil would consent to a meeting.

Requesting Viktor for his brother's phone number was impossible.

Not considering what I planned to propose.

I forced open the substantial glass entrance and entered the reception area.

The woman stationed at the main counter, an elegantly attired professional appearing to be in her late twenties, glanced up from her monitor. Her expression registered clear shock upon seeing my arrival.

"You must be Miss Stella?"

I stared back, confused. "You recognize me?"

She paused momentarily, then confirmed with a nod. "Yes, absolutely. Mr. Brooks instructed me to escort you upstairs immediately."

My heart ceased beating entirely.

What was happening?

I gazed at her incredulously, blood pounding through my temples.

Had he somehow predicted my visit?

Impossible. The circumstances made no logical sense.

How could he have known?

My fingers clenched tightly, pulse accelerating wildly.

The receptionist offered a warm smile and extended a security card. "Please use the elevator to reach the twenty-seventh level. He's waiting for your arrival."

I accepted the card with deliberate composure, maintaining a facade of normalcy while walking toward the elevator bank.

My thoughts were spinning out of control.

Was this mere coincidence? Had he somehow anticipated my desperate visit?

Or perhaps he had been monitoring my movements all along? No, that theory seemed absurd. What possible reason would someone of his stature have for such behavior?

I dismissed the paranoid notion as I entered the vacant elevator car.

The concept was utterly preposterous. What motivation would drive him toward such actions?

Once the doors sealed shut, I released an uneven exhale and leaned against the frigid metal surface.

Stay composed. Maintain your control.

I activated the key card against the sensor panel. The elevator began its ascent, transporting me to increasingly dizzying heights.

Perhaps anxiety was affecting my perception, but breathing seemed more difficult with each passing floor.

Twenty-fifth level.

Twenty-sixth.

Twenty-seventh.

A gentle musical tone sounded as the doors separated smoothly.

A single office dominated this entire floor.

Enormous double doors stood at the corridor's terminus, flanked by dim lighting.

A gentleman sat positioned nearby, maintaining perfect posture while working on his laptop computer. Phil's personal assistant, presumably?

Upon noticing my presence, he rose immediately and indicated the entrance.

"Mr. Brooks is expecting you, Miss Gianna." He smiled professionally while moving to open the door.

I acknowledged his courtesy and stepped through the threshold, my attention immediately drawn to the figure occupying the desk.

Phil Brooks sat within his enormous leather chair, reviewing documents as though my unannounced predawn visit had been scheduled weeks in advance.

His penetrating dark gaze lifted from the paperwork, focusing directly on me.

The man possessed devastating physical appeal.

He appeared completely unruffled, maintaining perfect composure. His costly suit fit flawlessly, with the collar button left undone, offering a tantalizing glimpse of intricate tattoos emerging from beneath the fabric.

The epitome of executive perfection.

While I stood paralyzed before his commanding presence.

"Good morning," he spoke in smooth, resonant tones.

Our previous conversation had occurred while I was intoxicated, making this encounter feel entirely different. Before that, our brief encounters had involved no meaningful dialogue whatsoever.

I inhaled deeply, suppressing my nervousness. "Morning."

"Please, sit down."

I complied, attempting to project confidence despite the emotional chaos threatening to overwhelm me.

"Would you prefer tea or coffee?" he inquired.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

Phil's expression showed mild disapproval before he reached for his intercom system. "Please bring a pumpkin spice latte."

Every muscle in my body tensed involuntarily.

How could he possibly know my preferred beverage?

He reclined casually, observing me with barely concealed entertainment. "Don't overanalyze it. Viktor mentions you frequently."

My stomach contracted painfully.

Hearing my former fiancé's name spoken aloud felt like a physical blow to my chest. I refused to display any reaction.

Instead, I maintained steady eye contact with Phil. "You're aware of his betrayal, aren't you?"

His mouth curved into a knowing smirk.

"I did warn you about his character flaws, didn't I? He lacks the qualities necessary for marriage."

I tightened my fists, setting aside his comment temporarily. "What's the source of your animosity toward Viktor?"

His smirk remained fixed. "Animosity? That's too strong a word. Disappointment describes it better."

I studied his expression intently.

"He's thoroughly spoiled. Father's precious golden child. He's never experienced genuine hardship or fought for anything meaningful. He operates on impulse, but not with the brain located in his skull."

Phil gestured crudely toward his lower anatomy.

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to defend my ex-fiancé.

But what defense could I possibly offer?

I had witnessed his true nature firsthand.

Viktor embodied everything Phil described perfectly.

"Besides," Phil continued with calculated precision, "any man with functioning intelligence would never have destroyed his chances with someone like you."

Heat coursed through my spine like liquid fire.

This was my moment. My crucial opportunity.

I straightened my shoulders. "I have a proposition for you."

His eyes sharpened with unmistakable interest.

"Marry me. Provide the funds necessary to save my mother's life. In exchange, you'll have a wife in name only. Plus an opportunity to humiliate your younger brother publicly."

For the first time, Phil appeared genuinely stunned.

I observed him lean back, analyzing my words carefully. Eventually, his lips curved upward.

"Your directness is refreshing. I anticipated this conversation would require more persuasion."

My fingers pressed deep marks into my palms. "My mother requires immediate cardiac bypass surgery. Time is a luxury I don't possess. Will you help me or not?"

I was probably glaring daggers at him now.

Extended silence filled the space between us.

Finally, he spoke. "If I refuse your proposal, will you return to Viktor begging for financial assistance?"

A bitter smile crossed my features.

"He's not the only Brooks family member I could approach for help," I replied, my voice carrying a dangerous edge. "I'm well aware that Daddy Brooks has particular preferences for women young enough to be his daughter."

I was venturing into treacherous territory.

But my instincts were screaming.

A wild, reckless intuition told me that Phil Brooks harbored genuine interest in me.

...

Stella's POV

The moment I spoke, Phil Brooks's entire body went taut.

His perfectly controlled facade remained intact, but I caught the subtle shift in his stance. Those penetrating dark eyes fixed on me with laser-like intensity, studying me as if I were some fascinating specimen under a microscope.

Then he rose from his chair with deliberate slowness.

"You're quite the interesting woman, aren't you?" His voice carried that smooth, almost entertained quality, though I detected something much more dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

"Very well." He moved to lean against his mahogany desk, crossing his arms over that broad chest. "But I need to know, Stella—what exactly are you prepared to offer? Because humiliating Viktor? That's child's play for someone like me."

A predatory smile curved his lips. "I could accomplish that without needing to marry you at all."

He wasn't wrong. This man wielded the kind of power that could crush someone like Viktor without breaking a sweat.

But I was the one who needed him.

My engagement to Viktor was scheduled for just months away. Without this marriage, I would become the laughingstock of everyone who knew me. My friends, my university peers, everyone who had witnessed me broadcasting our relationship across social media for years.

The memory of discovering Viktor's betrayal, his pathetic stammered explanations, seared through my mind like acid.

My insides churned with a mixture of rage and humiliation. I wanted him to experience agony.

That's when the truth hit me like a lightning bolt—this wasn't solely about saving my mother's life. If money was my only concern, I could simply borrow from him. Better yet, I could return to those predatory loan sharks and sink deeper into their web of debt.

They would welcome me with open arms, thrilled to have me trapped in their system for the remainder of my existence.

No, this was about vengeance against Viktor.

I wanted to tear him apart from within.

Make him experience even a fragment of the devastation I felt when I walked in on his betrayal.

I drew in a steadying breath, meeting Phil's calculating gaze.

If he refused to marry me, he was worthless to my cause.

"I'll provide you with a wife in name only," I declared with as much conviction as I could muster. "That's the extent of what I can offer."

At least, that's what I believed at the time.

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Then Phil pushed away from his desk, his movements calculated and predatory.

His eyes darkened as he closed the distance between us, each step deliberate and threatening. The atmosphere grew thick with an electric tension that made my pulse race uncontrollably.

I willed myself to remain motionless, though my heart hammered against my ribcage.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"So you want to carry my surname, Stella?"

His warm breath caressed my ear, sending an unwanted tremor through my entire body.

"Then you'll accept everything that entails."

My eyes went wide. "What are you talking about?"

His smile was pure wickedness as his hands gripped the armrests of my chair, spinning it to face him directly.

We were so close I could count his eyelashes. Our breathing seemed to synchronize.

"Everything," he repeated in that husky murmur. "My wealth. My reputation. My connections."

He paused, his gaze dropping to my lips.

"And my body as well."

The air caught in my throat.

But I forced myself to shake my head firmly. Absolutely not. I couldn't allow that.

"I'm proposing a purely business arrangement. With a predetermined expiration date," I managed to say, keeping my voice level despite my clenched fists.

His mouth curved into that infuriating smirk. "And a business arrangement is exactly what you'll receive. No emotional entanglements. No complicated attachments. Twelve months."

I fixed him with a hard stare. "Physical intimacy is off the table." I genuinely didn't trust my self-control around a man like him. If I actually became intimate with him, what if I developed feelings?

Never again. Especially not with a Brooks.

His next words, however, completely shattered my composure.

"Oh, you need to comprehend this clearly, malishka. There won't be any sleeping involved. Only raw, passionate encounters."

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

He leaned even closer, his voice like velvet over steel. "I will have you completely. If you can accept those terms, then I'll ensure Viktor begs for your forgiveness on his knees. I'll guarantee your mother receives treatment from the world's most skilled cardiac surgeon."

He pulled back slightly, watching my reaction before delivering his final ultimatum.

"And I'll make certain you never have to work multiple jobs again. You'll have unlimited time to focus on your studies—to pursue your dream of automotive engineering."

My pulse thundered in my ears.

He had just outlined everything I desperately needed. Everything I had ever dared to want.

If my mother made a complete recovery, she wouldn't disapprove of this choice. I could concentrate entirely on my education.

Graduate without the constant stress of financial worry.

And all I had to sacrifice was my body to a man who looked like he'd been carved by Renaissance masters?

What alternatives did I really have? The loan sharks with their crushing interest rates?

Viktor? Some other wealthy older man who might be far worse than Phil?

Refusing would be complete stupidity.

Yet my body felt paralyzed.

My thoughts were spinning wildly.

Could I actually go through with this? Could I truly sell myself to this man for an entire year?

I caught my lower lip between my teeth, his unwavering stare making my heart race even faster.

After what seemed like an eternity, I forced myself to breathe deeply and clear my head.

Finally, I looked directly into his eyes.

"Agreed. I accept your terms."

I straightened my spine. "But if you break your promises, Phil—I will destroy you."

I had no idea how I would accomplish such a thing.

But I would discover a way.

I had faith in my own resourcefulness.

At least during certain times of the month when my confidence peaked.

Phil laughed, his smirk growing wider.

"You have my complete permission to try."

He stepped back, adjusting his expensive suit as he checked his watch. Then his gaze returned to me.

"Shall we proceed then?"

I looked at him in confusion. "Proceed with what?"

"Well, there are numerous arrangements to make if we're getting married today."

My jaw dropped. "You mean right now? This very day?"

He grinned. "You know the old saying, malishka. Strike while the iron is hot."

"I have to get to the hospital," I interrupted his nonsense.

His expression grew serious.

I took a shaky breath. "I need to be with my mother. I can't abandon her right now."

He studied me silently for several long moments.

"Are you planning to perform the surgery yourself?"

I stared at him. "What kind of question is that?"

"No?" He arched one eyebrow. "Then what's the urgency?"

I set my jaw. "Because she's my mother. I'm all the family she has left. She needs me there."

Phil massaged his temples, releasing a sharp exhale. "Fine. We'll handle her situation first. One moment."

Then, right before my eyes, he retrieved his phone, dialed, and activated the speaker.

"Prepare the cardiac suite immediately," he commanded.

My breath stopped.

After a brief pause, a voice responded. "Sir?"

"I'm sending you a patient. Ruby Gianna. Prepare for an emergency bypass procedure. She's to receive VIP treatment. Spare no expense."

I stared at him in complete shock.

The voice on the other end hesitated before clearing their throat.

"Of course, sir. May I inquire about your relationship to this patient?"

Phil's eyes found mine.

Then, without missing a beat, he replied, "She's my mother-in-law."

The air left my lungs.

The doctor paused—then chuckled softly.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Brooks."

Phil smiled genuinely. "Thank you."

I gaped at him in utter bewilderment.

What in the world just happened?