A Fake Marriage With The Real Tycoon

The morning after signing the NDA, Alayna sat in her mother's hospital room, the signed agreement now locked in Jax's briefcase and on its way back to New York. Her new phone rested on the windowsill beside her—the encrypted phone Jax had given her yesterday, its screen dark for now.

Her old phone buzzed. It was Haskell—on her old number, she noted with mild surprise. He must have gotten it from Jax.

Specialist consultation. 3 PM. Dr. Evans.

The efficiency was staggering. Dr. Evans. The impossible-to-book doctor Eleonora had just told her about. So the Knight Foundation had already arranged it. Of course they had.

She rushed back to the room just as a team of doctors, led by the renowned Dr. Evans, was finishing their examination of her mother. Dr. Evans pulled Alayna aside into the hallway.

"Your mother is a strong woman," he said, his eyes kind but serious. "The tumor is aggressive, but it's operable. We have a good chance of getting it all."

Hope, bright and brilliant, surged through her. "Really?"

"But the surgery and the subsequent year of immunotherapy will be costly," he continued, his tone sobering. "You're looking at a total cost of around half a million dollars."

The hope deflated as quickly as it had appeared. The number was a physical weight, pressing down on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She knew the Knight Foundation had agreed to cover it, but the reality of owing so much—of being so deeply indebted to a man she barely knew—settled over her like a shroud. The debt was real, and it would take years, maybe decades, to repay.

She thanked Dr. Evans and returned to her mother's room. Laura was awake, her eyes clearer than they'd been in days.

"The doctor said they can operate," Alayna told her, forcing brightness into her voice.

Laura smiled weakly. "See? I told you. I'm tougher than I look."

They talked for a while, about nothing and everything—old memories, bad TV shows, the flowers on the windowsill. When Laura drifted off to sleep, Alayna slipped into the hallway.

She walked out of the hospital, the crisp Boston air doing little to clear her head. She pulled out her old phone, checking for updates.

A text from Eleonora appeared on the screen.

GOOD NEWS! My uncle just confirmed—Dr. Evans agreed to take your mom's case after all! Someone pulled strings big time. Is it that Knight Foundation you mentioned? Because whoever they are, they've got some serious weight.

Alayna stared at the screen, her vision blurring. Haskell. It had to be. He'd made it happen without her even having to ask.

She walked back into the hospital, her pulse steady. Her mother was in good hands. Whatever came next, whatever price she had to pay, at least she had this.

She pulled out the encrypted phone and opened the message thread with Haskell.

Thank you, she typed. Dr. Evans says she has a good chance.

His reply came in less than a second.

No need. Get some rest.

The command was so simple, so direct. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she actually could.