Olga knew exactly how important she was to me. She was the only family I had left. Her safety came first. She raised me after my parents died. Without her, I'd be nothing. Everything I built—gone.
Fine. If I needed a wife, if it wasn't going to be Genevie, then what did it matter who?
"Fine."
Chapter Three
Harper
I stared down at the hospital bill in my hands.
Above those suffocating numbers sat a bright red stamp: PAID IN FULL. The mountain that had been crushing my shoulders for three years just... vanished. What replaced it was a floating, dreamlike numbness and a dull ache in my chest where something hollow had opened up.
A hundred thousand dollars.
That was my price tag. That's what the man—the man who'd starred in all my stupid pink fantasies—thought I was worth.
"Harper Evans," I muttered to the hollow-eyed, puffy-faced woman staring back at me from the hallway window. "You're rich now. You should be celebrating."
But I couldn't smile. Even I wasn't that oblivious. Kirill had zero interest in me. He thought I was just another greedy opportunist, someone who'd only saved Olga to cash in later.
My first love ended before it even began. What the hell made me think those hallway chats and his occasional attention meant he felt the same way?
Looking back, he was only nice to me because I took care of Olga. Beyond that? I was nobody.
I took a deep breath and checked my concealer—I'd slathered on half a bottle of foundation to hide yesterday's bruises—then pushed open the ICU door.
"Hey, kiddo."
I forced my voice to sound bright and strode in like always. "Look what I brought! Not only your favorite blueberry cake, but news good enough to make you jump out of that bed."
Aiden lay there with his oxygen cannula in place, fiddling with that ancient, paint-chipped game controller. His friends had covered it with stickers that were now curled and faded at the edges, but he still treated it like treasure.
Shame those giggling boys hadn't visited in months.
When he heard my voice, his pale face lit up with a weak smile.
"Unless that news involves you finally agreeing to date that bald guy in the next room, I'm not jumping anywhere." He set down the controller and studied me with eyes just like mine. "Harper, you're wearing enough makeup to trick-or-treat."
Kid had annoyingly sharp instincts.
I walked to his bedside, set the cake on the nightstand, pulled up a chair, and handed him the surgery confirmation slip.
"Close enough." I shrugged, hiding the sharp pain in my ribs. "More thrilling than robbing a bank, though. See for yourself."
Aiden grabbed the paper and scanned it, confused.
Two seconds later, his eyes went wide.
"Harper..." His voice shook as his fingers crushed the thin sheet. "What is this? Where'd you get the money?"
When he looked up at me, there was no joy in his eyes. Only horror.
"Did you do something..." His face flushed red, his breathing quickened. "Harper, if you sold yourself for me, I'd rather die in this bed!"
"Hey! Hey! Calm down!" I jumped up to help him breathe, watching the heart monitor spike. My own pulsehammered. "Stop jumping to conclusions! I'd have to actually be sellable first! Look at me—what nightclub would take me?"
"Harper!" Aiden glared.
