Chapter 2

I barely took two steps before footsteps clicked rapidly on the pavement.

"Stella, please wait!"

Nancy lunged, her manicured fingers digging viciously into my bandaged shoulder. Fresh pain flared through the surgical stitches. I yanked my arm back on pure instinct. "Don't touch me."

Before I even fully retracted my arm, Nancy threw her head back.

Smack.

Her own palm cracked hard against her cheek. She collapsed onto the asphalt, bursting into violent sobs. "I just wanted to tell you that Harrison is such a good man, and he's taken such good care of me over the years. I just hope you treat him right after you get married... Why would you hit me?! "

The Maybach door slammed open. Harrison stormed out, his face twisted in rage.

He didn't ask questions. He shoved me aside so hard my back slammed against a streetlamp, immediately kneeling to gather Nancy into his arms.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" he roared at me, his eyes dark with fury. "You say you don't want to get the marriage certificate, so you take your pathetic temper out on an innocent woman?"

"I didn't touch her,"

"Stella," Harrison sneered, his gaze dripping with disgust. "If your dead parents could see you like this right now, they would be so disappointed."

He scooped Nancy up and put her in the car. The heavy door slammed shut. The tires screeched against the pavement, leaving me standing alone in a cloud of exhaust.

The thick smoke made me cough. As I hacked, my phone vibrated intensely in my pocket.

It was Dr. Evans from the hospital.

"Miss Brooks," his voice was tight, stripped of his usual bedside manner. "Your urgent blood work just came back. You need to return to the oncology ward immediately."

"I just signed my discharge papers an hour ago," I replied, wiping grime from my cheek.

"It's Acute Myeloid Leukemia."

The words dropped like anvils.

"The trauma from the accidents compromised your immune system," Dr. Evans continued rapidly. "You need a bone marrow transplant right now. The preliminary deposit for the donor search and surgery is two million dollars. Can you secure the funds?"

Two million.

Ten years ago, my father's mafia branch was completely wiped out at the docks while covering Harrison's escape. I had nothing left. My entire existence was funded by Margaret Churchill's charity. I didn't even have two thousand dollars to my name.

Panic and survival instinct drove me forward.

I didn't have the money, but Harrison did.

I hailed a cab, giving the driver the address to Harrison's private villa.

The security guards let me in—they still thought I was the future lady of the house. I pushed open the doors, desperate to find him.

Laughter chimed from the living room.

I stopped in my tracks. Nancy was standing by the window, arranging white lilies in a crystal vase.

Harrison despised floral scents. He fired a maid last month just for using lavender detergent. Yet there he was, leaning against the leather sofa, watching Nancy with a soft, indulgent smile.

His smile vanished the second he saw me. "What are you doing here?"

"Can you lend me some money?" I said, ignoring his hostility. I walked straight up to him. "Two million dollars. I'll pay you back. "

Nancy dropped a lily on purpose. She gasped, her eyes widening in mock horror.

"Two million?" Nancy walked over, looping her arm through Harrison's. "Stella, you practically live off the Churchills as it is. Are you trying to squeeze him dry before the wedding?"

She looked up at Harrison, her voice dripping with fake pity. "Is she using her parents' dead bodies to write a blank check again?"

"Shut up, Nancy," I snapped, taking a step forward.

"Don't you dare speak to her like that," Harrison growled.

He glared down at me, his jaw clenched. "She's right. You've milked that life debt for a decade. You want money? Wait until we sign the marriage papers. Then the debt is officially paid in full. Until then, you don't get a single dime."

I stared at him. Really stared.

My gaze drifted downward. Beneath the edge of the glass coffee table, his fingers were heavily intertwined with Nancy's.

But that wasn't what severed the last string in my heart.

Resting against Harrison's chest, gleaming against his dark tailored shirt, was a silver crest pocket watch.

My father's watch. The exact one he was wearing when he took a bullet for Harrison at the docks.

I had wasted ten years trying to warm a stone.

"Keep your money," I said, my voice dead flat.

Harrison frowned, surprised by my tone.

I continued, taking a step back. "No need to wait. The engagement is off. "

Harrison's face darkened instantly. A vein throbbed in his temple. He thought I was playing a game to manipulate him.

"You're bluffing," he sneered, stepping toward me. "You've been obsessed with me since you were a teenager. You're using this fake breakup to blackmail me for cash."

"I just need your money. I don't want you." I looked him dead in the eye.

"Get her out!" Harrison suddenly roared, kicking a glass side table.

Two massive bodyguards stormed in, grabbing my arms and dragging me toward the door. They shoved me out the front entrance.

I sat in the dirt, the harsh wind biting at my fresh wounds.

My phone pinged loudly in my pocket. A breaking news alert from the local socialite network.

Harrison Churchill purchases private Mediterranean island for $20 million.

I clicked the notification. A photo filled my screen. Harrison was kissing Nancy's cheek against a beautiful sunset backdrop.

The caption, posted directly from his official account two minutes ago, read: Love is always higher than duty.

Twenty million dollars. Ten times what I needed to survive. He bought her an island an hour after refusing to save my life.

I locked my screen. A dry, bitter laugh tore from my throat.

Across the street, a black armored sedan idled quietly in the shadows.

Inside, a tall, broad-shouldered man watched me pull myself up from the dirt.

His dark, intense eyes were currently fixed on my bleeding knees.