3
Molly's POV
I watched Harrison take the report from my hand. He flipped through two pages, and a low chuckle worked its way out of his throat.
Was he laughing at me?
My face started to burn. I felt like an idiot — but this was the only hope I had left.
I'd never been this humiliated in my life. Still, I clenched my teeth. For Mom's medical bills, I had to hold it in.
"So there really are people," Harrison set the report down, a glint of amusement still in his eyes, "who actually took that rumor seriously."
I stared at him, disbelieving. "Are you saying it's a rumor? You don't need blood packs?"
He put the report back into my hands. "This is a civilized society. I'm not a vampire, and I don't have any deviant tastes. I'm just a professor who keeps his head down and minds his own business."
The paper burned against my fingers.
My head was buzzing. He wasn't the vampire from the stories, and he didn't need blood...
I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt like I was suffocating.
If he didn't need blood packs, then... what was I supposed to do now?
The money I owed. The hospital bills...
"This is a rumor. Go home." Harrison seemed to have run out of patience with my silence.
He stepped around me and walked off.
I hung my head and stared blankly at the floor.
"Sir."
Someone called him to a stop.
I looked up. Harrison had run into an acquaintance at the top of the stairs.
The one who'd stopped him was an old man in a black suit, his expression stern.
"Deya, what are you doing here?" Something complicated crossed Harrison's face.
"The old gentleman is at the school gate. He told me to tell you that you must meet Miss Lavelle today."
"Go back and tell my grandfather I don't want to."
"I'm sorry. That isn't a decision I get to make." Deya kept his head lowered, his face unreadable.
Harrison sighed in resignation. Then he turned his head — our eyes met. The crease between his brows smoothed out; one eyebrow lifted, and the corner of his mouth curved into a smile.
Still looking at me where I stood in his doorway, he spoke to Deya again, his tone noticeably lighter: "Deya, go back and tell my grandfather I've already found the person I intend to marry. There's no need for a meeting today."
"Sir, if the old gentleman finds out you're lying—"
"I'm not lying." Harrison smiled and walked toward me. Suddenly he was close, his arm around my waist. "This is the partner I just successfully courted. I think my grandfather will be very satisfied."
Deya's gaze moved over me, heavy and searching. It felt like a whip laid across my skin. I was deeply uncomfortable; I wanted to twist away, but Harrison's arm only tightened.
I looked up into his eyes — deep and bright, like a black hole.
I don't know how long it went on before that burning stare finally slid away.
Deya spoke again, giving us a slight nod: "Understood, sir. Sorry to have disturbed you today."
"It's fine."
Deya looked me over once more, and only then turned and left.
After he was gone, Harrison let go of my waist. Facing my bewildered look, he said:
"Let's talk in my office."
I hesitated a moment, then followed him in. He shut the door, stood beside it, and looked at me.
"You were the girl at the school gate this morning, and just now you came to me with your own bloodwork. If I'm not mistaken, you need money badly. Am I right?"
He raised his eyes slightly, the sternness of a teacher radiating off him. I nodded honestly. "Yes."
"Perhaps I can offer you a job — marry me," he said, perfectly calm. "Afterward, cooperate with me as I require. In exchange, you'll have enough money."
"Marry... you?" I froze.
I'd just watched his exchange with Deya. I'd assumed it was something he said offhand...
Harrison looked at me and didn't answer my question. "If you're going to marry me, a bloodwork report won't be enough. I need you to get a full physical — every item, down to your nail report."
I looked at him, confused. Before I could speak, he stepped slowly closer. "Give me your phone."
Something about the way he carried himself as a teacher made me hand it over without thinking. He tapped at it a few times and gave it back.
"I've added my contact for you. Tomorrow, go get a complete physical. I'll cover the cost."
He took out his own phone. Ten seconds later, a transfer notification appeared on mine.
I couldn't help it — my eyes went wide and I blurted out, "A million! You're not just a university professor..."
My voice trailed off. After all, what kind of professor gets ordered into a marriage alliance by his own grandfather...
"This is your deposit. Think it over carefully — if you'd rather not, you can send it straight back." Harrison turned to leave. "When you've decided, give me the physical report, and we'll go register the marriage."
Watching his back, it suddenly hit me: I was about to sell my marriage.
That realization should have frightened me. Or shamed me.
Instead, a strange question surfaced in my mind:
Harrison needs me to get a physical — does he need me to bear his children?
