A Fake Marriage With The Real Tycoon

"How did you know?" The words were a raw whisper, barely audible over the soft hum of the engine.

Haskell didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on the rain-streaked windshield ahead. "I have a membership at the club. I saw the ambulance."

It was a plausible lie. Too plausible. But her mind was too fractured to dissect it. All that mattered was the car was moving, speeding through the slick city streets, taking her to her mother.

She clutched the edges of his jacket, the fine wool a stark contrast to her cheap, soaked polyester uniform. The warmth was seeping into her skin, a small comfort in the frozen landscape of her fear.

He must have noticed her shivering. He reached forward and adjusted a knob on the console. A moment later, warmer air flowed from the vents, caressing her cold, damp skin. He did it without a word, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of kindness that made the lump in her throat tighten.

Caiden would have complained about the seats getting wet.

The thought was a bitter pill. The comparison was so stark, so brutal, it almost made her laugh.

The Maybach pulled smoothly to a stop under the brightly lit awning of the emergency room entrance. Haskell was out of the car before the driver could open his door, his umbrella already shielding her as he led her inside.

The ER was a controlled chaos of beeping machines, hurried footsteps, and the low murmur of pain and anxiety. The air smelled of antiseptic.

"Alayna!"

Brenda McCoy was there, her face etched with worry, wringing her hands in the waiting area.

"Brenda, what happened? Is she okay?" Alayna's voice cracked.

"They took her back right away. She was complaining about her stomach, and then she just... fainted."

Alayna's legs felt like they were about to buckle. A strong hand gripped her elbow, steadying her. Haskell. He was still there, a silent, solid presence at her side.

A nurse with a clipboard approached them. "Can I help you?"

Before Alayna could speak, Haskell stepped forward. "We're here for Laura Heath."

The nurse's eyes flicked from Haskell's expensive suit to his face, and a flicker of recognition crossed her features. Her demeanor shifted instantly from harried to deferential.

"Mr. Knight. Of course. Right this way."

She led them through a set of double doors into the ER proper. Alayna looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"The Knight Foundation is a major donor to this hospital," he said, his voice low, answering her unspoken question. It wasn't a boast. It was a statement of fact.

A doctor in blue scrubs met them in the hallway. His face was grim.

"Ms. Heath? I'm Dr. Aris. We've done a preliminary scan. Your mother had a rupture. It appears to be a tumor on her stomach wall."

Tumor. The word hung in the sterile air, heavy and suffocating.

"We've stabilized her for now, but she's in critical condition. Based on what we're seeing, it's likely Stage II gastric cancer. We need to admit her immediately and schedule surgery as soon as possible."

Alayna's mind went white. Cancer. The word was a hammer blow, shattering the last of her composure. Her breath hitched. She couldn't breathe.

The doctor continued, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll need to run more tests, but you should prepare yourselves. The surgery, followed by chemotherapy... it's a long road. And the costs will be substantial. Without premium insurance, you're looking at several hundred thousand dollars, at least."

Several hundred thousand dollars.

The number was so astronomical, so completely outside the realm of her reality, that it didn't even feel real. It was a death sentence.

Her nails dug into her palm, the sharp pain a distant pinprick. She was vaguely aware of Haskell standing beside her, listening intently, his expression unreadable.

"Can I see her?" she asked, her voice hollow.

The doctor nodded.

Laura Heath looked small and fragile in the hospital bed, an IV line taped to the back of her hand. Her eyes fluttered open as Alayna approached.

"Alayna, honey." Her mother's voice was weak. "Your clothes... you're soaked."

Tears Alayna didn't know she had left began to fall. She collapsed into the chair by the bed, grabbing her mother's hand. "Mom, don't worry about me."

"It's my fault," Laura whispered, her own eyes welling up. "I'm a burden. I don't want the treatment, baby. We can't afford it. I don't want you to be in debt for the rest of your life because of me."

"No," Alayna said, her voice fierce. She squeezed her mother's hand. "Don't you dare say that. We are going to fight this. I'll get the money. I don't care how. You are going to get better. That's an order."

She stayed until her mother drifted into a restless sleep, then quietly slipped out of the room.

Haskell was still there, leaning against the far wall of the corridor. He pushed himself off the wall as she approached. For a moment, she thought he might say something soft, something comforting.

He didn't.

He just looked at her, his dark eyes holding an emotion she couldn't decipher. "I'll have my assistant follow up with you regarding the Knight Foundation's patient assistance program," he said, his voice even. "There may be options available to you."

"I can't accept charity, Haskell."

"I'm not offering charity," he said. "I'm offering information. It's up to you whether you use it."

He gave her a slight nod, then turned and walked away, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor, disappearing down the hallway without a backward glance.

Alayna stood alone in the cold, bright corridor, the weight of the world on her shoulders. She pulled his jacket tighter around herself—she still had it, she realized with a start—and the scent of cedar wrapped around her like a quiet promise she didn't dare believe in.