Three days earlier, Aria's life had been completely different– Simple, quiet, and safe.
She woke that morning to the smell of frying onions, smiling before her eyes even opened.
Another day with just her and Mum.
The clock read 6:12 a.m. but something felt off. The house was too quiet, no gospel radio, no humming, just the smell of burning onions and silence.
"Mum?" Aria called.
Nothing.
Fear prickled at the back of her neck and she walked faster toward the kitchen.
"Mum, are you—"
CRASH.
Her heart stopped, she shoved the door open, and found her mum collapsed on the floor, body twisted, hair covering her face.
The frying pan had tipped over and the onions burned black on the stove.
"MUM!" Aria dropped to her knees beside her, hands shaking. She checked Mum's pulse, it was weak but steady.
Her eyes caught something on the counter, a small amber prescription bottle, cap off, tipped on its side.
Diazepam. 10mg.
The label was worn, but she could make out a date: Seven years ago.
Why would Mum have seven-year-old sedatives? But before she could think more, Mum groaned weakly. She shoved the bottle in her pocket and carried Mum onto her back.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.
Finally, a doctor emerged, an older man with wire-rimmed glasses. Dr. Jackson.
"Miss Aria?"
She jumped up, "How is she?"
His face looked troubled. "Your mother has stage four cancer, metastatic carcinoma. Very aggressive." He paused.
"But she never mentioned any symptoms, she seemed fine yesterday—"
"Sometimes patients hide symptoms." But his tone suggested he didn't quite believe it himself. "Without immediate treatment, she has weeks. Maybe less."
The floor tilted under Aria's feet.
"What treatment?"
"Chemotherapy, surgery, experimental drugs, long-term private care." He hesitated. "It's expensive."
Her throat tightened. "How much?"
"Fifteen million dollars."
The number didn't sound real.
"I don't…" Her voice cracked. "I work part-time at a library. I have some savings but not—"
Aria pulled the pill bottle from her pocket with shaking hands. "Doctor… I found this at home, old sedatives. Could she have taken these?"
Dr. Jackson took the bottle, his eyes flickered before he masked it with a frown.
"We'll run a full toxicology screen," he said quietly. Too quietly.
As he turned away, his expression shifted. Not confusion, not concern but something darker, like recognition.
Jasmine lay in the bed, eyes closed, breathing softly and evenly, almost like someone pretending to sleep. But Aria pushed that thought away.
"Mum…" Aria took her hand gently.
Jasmine's eyes opened. For just a flash, her expression was sharp. Alert. Calculating. Then it melted into weakness.
"Aria… baby…" Her voice sounded thin, breathy. "I'm here." Tears streamed down Aria's face. "You're going to be okay, I'll find the money somehow."
Mum's hand squeezed back—surprisingly firm. But Aria was too emotional to notice.
"No," Mum whispered. "Don't sacrifice yourself, it's too much…"
"I don't care! You're my mother and this is my turn to take care of you." Something gleamed in Mum's eyes. Satisfaction, maybe?
"You're such a good girl," Mum murmured. "My obedient girl, you've always done exactly what I told you, haven't you?"
The phrasing was odd—obedient instead of good—but Aria didn't catch it.
"Of course, Mum. You're all I have."
Mum smiled softly. "I raised you well. Kept you pure. Kept you safe from men. You've stayed a virgin all these years, just like I taught you."
Aria nodded, confused why Mum was bringing this up now.
"That's right, Mum. I listened to everything you said."
"Good." Mum's smile deepened. "That's very good, baby."
But something about her breathing seemed too controlled, too perfect. Aria pushed the strange feeling away and kissed Mum's forehead.
For two days, Aria tried everything.
She worked odd jobs, called everyone she knew, and went without sleep, food, or rest.
Every effort failed.
On the third night, exhausted and crying in the hospital cafeteria, her phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
She answered. "Hello?"
"Aria."
A man's voice. Deep. Controlled.
"Who is this?"
"Someone who can help you."
Her heart skipped. "Help me? How do you—"
"I know about your mother, I know she's dying, I know you need fifteen million dollars and I know you've spent two days trying to find it."
Cold fear washed over her.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
"A wife." She froze.
"A one-year marriage contract, you sign, I pay."
"This is insane, I don't know you."
"You don't need toYou just need to decide: your mother's life, or your pride."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Why me?"
His voice dropped. "Because you're a virgin. I know you've kept yourself pure. No man has ever touched you. That's exactly what I want."
Her face burned.
"I'm not something to buy—"
"Everyone has a price. Yours is fifteen million dollars." Pause. "A car will come tonight. If you refuse, your mother dies."
"Wait—who are you—"
"You'll know soon."
The line went dead.
Immediately, Aria told Mum about the offer.
"Someone will give us the money… but I have to marry him. For one year."
Mum's face crumpled—but for just a second, before the tears came, there was something else in her eyes. Relief? Triumph?
"Baby, no…" Mum cried. "I don't want you to sacrifice yourself…"
But even as she said it, her grip on Aria's hand was firm. Urgent.
"I have to, Mum. I can't lose you."
Mum pulled her close, crying into her hair. "You're such a good girl. You'll do this for me?"
"Of course."
Over Aria's shoulder, Mum's expression shifted. Cold. Satisfied. Calculating.
But Aria couldn't see it.
That night, a black car arrived.
Aria climbed in, hands shaking, praying she was making the right decision.
The mansion was massive. Guards. Fountains. Wealth everywhere.
A man stood at the entrance. Tall. Powerful. Blue eyes like ice.
Tom Vager.
So this was the stranger.
"Miss Aria," he said. "Come inside."
He took her to a private room—wedding attire, legal documents, and a registrar waiting silently.
The contract sat on the desk.
- Duration: One year
- Payment: Fifteen million dollars -Requirements: Wife agrees to fulfill all marital duties
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
"It means you'll be my wife. In every way." His eyes locked on hers.
"You'll share my bed. You'll give me what I'm paying for."
Her stomach dropped. "I've never—"
"I know. That's exactly why I chose you. You're a virgin. Pure. Untouched. That's the whole point."
Tears pricked her eyes. "This is wrong—"
"Sign, and your mother gets treated immediately. Refuse, and she dies. Your choice."
Aria looked at the paper. At the pen. At Tom's cold blue eyes.
She thought of Mum lying in that hospital bed, machines beeping, life draining away with each passing hour. This was her only chance. Her only option.
She picked up the pen. The metal felt heavy in her hand, weighted with everything she was about to give up. Her freedom. Her body. Her future.
Her hand shook so badly the first time she tried to write, the pen slipped and left an ink smudge on the paper.
'Take your time,' Tom said, though his tone suggested the opposite.
She pressed the pen to paper again and forced herself to write her name. Each letter felt like a betrayal of everything she'd once believed her life would be.
Aria Summer.
Soon to be Aria Vager.
The girl who sold herself to save her mother.
Tom pulled out his phone. "Give me the hospital name and your mother's patient ID."
Aria's hands shook as she pulled out the hospital papers. "D'Thom Medical Center. Patient ID: 47829."
Tom typed quickly, then showed her his screen. Transfer Complete.
"Call them. Confirm it."
With trembling fingers, Aria dialed the hospital.
"The money is confirmed. Your mother's treatment will commence immediately."
The wedding was quick. Cold. Efficient.
No vows from the heart. No family watching. No friends are celebrating. Just a judge reading from a script, signatures on paper, and a kiss that felt less like a promise and more like sealing a business transaction.
"You're now husband and wife."
She walked through the long corridors, heart pounding.
She was now Mrs. Aria Vager.
Whether she wanted it or not.