Emma's pov

Emma's POV

The words hang in the air between us, sharp and suffocating. My heart races, my mind struggling to keep up with the gravity of what Alexander Kane just proposed. He wants me to marry him—to bear his child—all in exchange for taking care of my father's medical bills. It feels like a nightmare, something so twisted I can barely grasp it.

"I… I can't," I whisper again, my voice faltering. "This isn't fair."

Alexander remains seated behind his imposing desk, watching me with that same unrelenting coldness. His expression betrays no emotion, no remorse. To him, this is merely a transaction—a business deal.

"I never said life was fair, Miss Johnson," he says, his voice as smooth as glass but as cold as ice. "I'm offering you a solution to a problem you can't solve on your own. You're drowning in debt, your father's condition is deteriorating, and you're barely holding it together. I can take that burden off your shoulders."

His words sting because they're true. Every part of me wants to reject his offer, to walk out of this office with my dignity intact. But the thought of my father—hooked up to machines in that sterile hospital room, slowly wasting away—makes me pause. He needs more treatments, more time, and the bills are already drowning us. If I don't do something, I'll lose him.

But this? Marrying a man like Alexander Kane, who clearly sees me as nothing more than a means to an end? And bearing his child—turning my life into a bargain?

I bite my lip, trying to force myself to think clearly. "Why me?" I ask, my voice still trembling. "You could have anyone you want. Why me?"

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—crossing his features. "You're smart, capable, and discreet. You won't expect anything from me beyond the terms we've agreed upon. Besides, you're in need, and I can offer you a way out. It's as simple as that."

I feel like I'm suffocating, the walls of his office closing in on me. He's right, in a way—this would solve my problems. But at what cost?

"And… after?" I manage to ask, though the words barely make it past my throat. "After the child is born, what happens to me?"

Alexander's gaze doesn't waver. "After you bear my child, we'll remain married for as long as necessary. Publicly, we'll be a couple, but privately, you'll live your own life. I won't interfere with your personal matters as long as the conditions of our arrangement are met."

The coldness in his voice cuts through me like a blade. He's offering me security, but without any warmth, any affection. It's like he's building a prison for me out of money and convenience.

"And what about love?" I ask, almost without thinking, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

His eyes darken, his expression hardening even more. "Love is irrelevant, Miss Johnson. It's a weakness—one I don't indulge in. This arrangement is about practicality, nothing more."

I swallow hard, my throat aching. He's made it clear that this isn't about feelings or companionship—it's about control. But my father's face flashes in my mind again, frail and helpless. I can't let him die because I was too proud to accept help, no matter how twisted that help might be.

There's a long, suffocating silence before I finally speak again, my voice barely audible.

"I need time to think about it."

Alexander stands up, his imposing figure towering over me as he walks around the desk and stands a few feet away. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on me as if he's already claimed me, as if the decision is already made.

"I'll give you three days," he says, his voice firm. "After that, the offer is off the table."

I nod, unable to trust myself to say anything more. My legs feel weak as I stand, and I quickly gather my things, desperate to get out of his office before I break down completely. Without another word, I turn and walk out, my hands shaking as I close the door behind me.

---

Alexander's POV

I watch her leave, my expression impassive, though my mind is working relentlessly behind the mask of control. Emma Johnson is interesting. She's a woman weighed down by responsibility, torn by obligations she can't escape from, much like I was all those years ago. She'll accept the offer—I know she will. Her loyalty to her family is evident in every word she speaks, every action she takes. That's why I chose her.

I turn back to my desk, but my mind wanders for a moment. Love. What an absurd question to ask. I don't believe in love. Not anymore. It's a concept for people who don't understand the real world, for those who haven't been burned by it. I had my chance at love once, with Lily. I thought she was the embodiment of everything pure, everything I wanted. She left, of course. They all do, eventually.

Emma doesn't understand that yet. She still believes in things like love, like loyalty and sacrifice. That's why she'll take the deal—because she can't stand the idea of failing her family. She'll do what needs to be done, just as I've always done.

I pick up the report Victoria prepared on Emma's background, scanning the details once more. Modest family. Struggling with debt. Father in and out of the hospital. It's the perfect scenario—she needs me as much as I need her. It's just business.

And yet… there's something about her. Something that intrigues me. She's not like the women I usually encounter, the ones who throw themselves at me for status, for wealth. She's quiet, resilient, and yet there's a vulnerability in her that she tries so hard to hide. She'll make a good wife—at least in public.

As for bearing my child, that's a necessity. My father's will is clear—an heir must be produced to secure the Kane legacy. I've put it off long enough, but now it's time. Emma is the ideal candidate—she won't interfere in my life, and she's desperate enough to agree to the terms. Once the child is born, we'll continue the facade of marriage until it's no longer necessary. She'll have her freedom, and I'll have mine.

I put the file down and glance out the large window of my office, the skyline of the city stretching out before me. Control—that's what this is about. Control over my life, my legacy. I won't let emotions cloud my judgment again. I won't let weakness in.

Three days. That's all she has.

---

Emma's POV

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I go through the motions at work, but my mind is miles away, replaying Alexander's words over and over. My chest feels tight, and every time I think about what he asked of me, it's like a weight presses down harder.

Marry him. Bear his child. All for the sake of money.

It sounds so cold, so transactional. But then I think about my father—the hospital bills, the treatments he needs, the fact that I'm running out of time. If I don't do something soon, I could lose him.

I return to my small apartment that evening, collapsing on the couch with a heaviness that I can't shake. I feel sick. Part of me wants to scream at the injustice of it all—how my life has come to this. I've worked so hard, given up so much, and yet here I am, faced with a choice that shouldn't even be a choice.

I grab my phone and stare at it for a long moment before dialing Sarah's number. She picks up after a few rings, her voice as cheerful as always.

"Emma! It's been forever, girl. What's up?"

I hesitate, unsure of how to even begin explaining what's happening. Sarah doesn't know about the extent of my family's financial problems, and she certainly doesn't know about my father's condition.

"I just… I needed to talk," I say, my voice shaky.

"Of course, babe. What's going on? You sound stressed."

I take a deep breath, but before I can say anything, the words catch in my throat. How do I tell her? How do I explain that I'm considering marrying a man I barely know—cold, distant, and terrifying in his power—just to save my father's life?

"I'm just… dealing with a lot," I manage to say instead. "Work is overwhelming, and my family… there's just a lot going on."

"Well, you know I'm always here for you," Sarah says gently. "Whatever it is, we can figure it out together. You don't have to go through it alone."

I want to believe her, but there's nothing she can do to fix this. No one can fix this. It's on me.

We talk for a few more minutes before I hang up, the conversation doing little to ease the suffocating pressure in my chest. I glance at the clock. Three days. That's all I have to make this decision.

I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside me, but no matter what I do, the weight of Alexander Kane's proposition looms larger than anything I've ever faced before.

----

Emma's POV

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room.

The doctor's voice is a low hum, muffled against the pounding in my ears. My father is lying in the hospital bed, his face gaunt, and his eyes fluttering closed every so often, his body too weak to keep up with the battle he's been fighting. For weeks, there was hope—his condition had stabilized, and we dared to believe he might pull through.

But now, it's like the world has turned on its head again.

"I'm sorry, Emma," Dr. Patel says softly, her expression grave but kind. "Your father's body isn't responding to the treatment anymore. We've tried everything we can, but it's not working."

My throat tightens, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. I want to scream, to rage at the unfairness of it all. How can this be happening? After everything we've been through—after every sacrifice I've made, every sleepless night, every ounce of hope we've clung to—how can it end like this?

"What… what does that mean?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. I'm not sure I even want to hear the answer.

Dr. Patel takes a deep breath. "It means we need to start thinking about his comfort. Palliative care. Making sure he isn't in pain as his body… transitions."

Transitions. It's a clinical way of saying he's dying. My father is dying, and there's nothing more they can do.

I feel the weight of the words pressing down on me, suffocating me. My chest tightens, and it takes everything in me not to break down right here, right now. I can't. Not in front of him.

"Can I have a moment alone with him?" I ask, my voice shaky but steady enough.

Dr. Patel nods, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Of course. Take your time. I'll be just outside."

She slips out of the room, leaving me alone with my father. I sit down in the chair beside his bed, my heart heavy as I take his hand in mine. His skin is cool to the touch, his fingers frail and thin. He doesn't stir, and for a moment, I wonder if he even knows I'm here.

But then, slowly, his eyes open. He looks at me, his gaze weak but filled with love.

"Emma," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "You're here."

I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. "Of course, I'm here, Dad. I'm always here."

He smiles faintly, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "You've been so strong, my girl. Stronger than I ever was."

My heart clenches. How can he say that? He's been my rock my entire life. Everything I've done, I've done for him—because he taught me how to fight, how to persevere, how to never give up.

"I'm only strong because of you," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "You taught me everything I know."

He closes his eyes again, his breathing shallow and uneven. "I'm sorry… that I couldn't be there for you more. That I wasn't… a better father."

My throat tightens, and I shake my head vehemently. "Don't say that. You were the best father. The best."

He doesn't respond, his eyes still closed, but his hand tightens weakly around mine.

For a long time, I just sit there, holding his hand, listening to the beeping of the machines and the faint murmur of voices outside the room. I try to hold on to the moment, to the feeling of his presence, knowing that soon, he'll be gone. And I don't know how I'm going to survive that. How am I supposed to keep going without him?

After what feels like an eternity, I finally pull myself together enough to stand up. I lean over and press a kiss to his forehead, my tears finally spilling over.

"I love you, Dad," I whisper. "So much."

"I love you too, Emma," he murmurs, his voice so faint I almost miss it.

I wipe my tears quickly as I leave the room, trying to steady myself for what's to come. Outside, Dr. Patel is waiting, her face kind but solemn. "We'll make sure he's comfortable," she says softly. "You should gather your family, let them know."

Nodding, I walk down the hall, each step feeling heavier than the last. I need to call my mom, let her know the situation. But how do you tell someone that the person they've loved for decades is fading away? How do you prepare for something like this?

---

The next few days pass in a blur. I'm in and out of the hospital, sitting by my father's side as the palliative care team takes over. They're kind and gentle, doing everything they can to make him comfortable, but I know the truth—there's no saving him.

Every time I leave his room, I feel the weight of reality pressing down on me, like I'm being crushed by an invisible force. And in the rare moments I have to myself, I find my mind wandering to Alexander's offer. His words still linger in the back of my mind, haunting me.

He would take care of everything. All the bills, the debts, the financial burden that's been crushing me for so long. I wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. My father could die in peace, without me constantly fretting over how I'm going to pay for the next treatment or hospital stay.

But at what cost?

Marrying a man who sees me as nothing more than a tool, a vessel to bear his child, in exchange for financial security. It feels so wrong, so twisted, and yet… I can't stop thinking about it. About how much easier everything would be if I just gave in.

I hate that I'm even considering it, but I'm desperate. And desperation makes you do things you never thought you would.

---

Three Days Later

I stand outside Alexander Kane's office, my stomach in knots. I haven't slept in days, haven't eaten much either. My father is slipping away, and every time I visit him, it's like a piece of my heart breaks off. I'm at my breaking point, and the weight of everything is too much to bear.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door.

"Come in," his voice calls from the other side, cool and commanding as ever.

I push open the door and step inside, my heart pounding in my chest. Alexander is sitting behind his desk, looking as composed and powerful as ever. His sharp suit, the cold gleam in his eyes—it's all so overwhelming. He glances up from the papers in front of him, his gaze locking onto mine.

"You're here," he says, his voice even, as if he expected nothing less.

I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Yes."

He leans back in his chair, studying me. "Have you made a decision?"

I swallow hard, my mind racing. The image of my father lying in that hospital bed flashes before my eyes, followed by the cold reality of my dwindling bank account, the medical bills piling up, the pressure I can't escape.

I feel trapped, cornered.

"Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it. I'll marry you."

For a brief moment, something flickers in Alexander's eyes—something unreadable, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. He stands, walking around the desk until he's standing directly in front of me, towering over me. His presence is suffocating, and I have to fight the urge to take a step back.

"Good," he says simply. "We'll have the paperwork drawn up immediately."

I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. It's done. I've made the decision, crossed the line. There's no going back now.

As he watches me, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "You've made the right choice, Emma."

I don't respond. I can't. Because the truth is, I don't know if I've made the right choice. I only know that I've made the only choice I could.

And as Alexander turns away, already calling his assistant to begin preparing the contract, I feel the weight of the decision settle over me like a shroud, suffocating me.

This is my life now. My fate is tied to his.

And I'm terrified of what that means.