Chapter 12

With trembling hands, I shared my location with him, each word a struggle as I tried to control the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown me. Deep breaths became my anchor, though they did little to stave off the piercing ache in my chest.

My brother, fragile and fighting for his life in the ICU, haunted my every thought. As I pressed "send," I knew that once I made contact with Raphael, there would be no turning back. This was it-the point of no return.

And for the first time in my life, I was desperate enough to take that step.

As his car approached, I watched him drive past before parking near the hospital's entrance. I couldn't bring myself to have this conversation inside-there, surrounded by grief and worry, the air was already too heavy to breathe.

Outside, under the dim lights of the parking lot, I would have space to think, space to speak without the crushing weight of my family's expectations pressing down on me.

Inside, Dad was with Erica, trying to console her, though his own pain was etched deeply in his face. Their grief mirrored my own, and it broke me further.

How had we come to this point?

How had everything-my little brother's health, my family's happiness-become so fragile, so uncertain?

My mind raced with a thousand thoughts, all of them pointing to the same painful truth: I had no other option. I had to make this deal, no matter the cost.

Raphael's footsteps interrupted my thoughts. He walked toward me with measured steps, his posture calm, almost indifferent.

Each stride brought my heart closer to pounding out of my chest.

When he finally reached me, he lowered himself onto the bench without a word, crossing his legs as he stared straight ahead, his gaze distant.

"You called," he said, his voice devoid of warmth or emotion. "I assume you've made up your mind about my proposal?"

His tone cut through me like ice. I gulped hard, unable to meet his gaze. My fingers fidgeted as I searched for courage, my resolve faltering with each passing second.

How had I gone from rejecting him to being willing to offer myself up for this? What had happened to the proud, independent woman I once was?

Finally, in a voice trembling with desperation, I whispered, "Please... save my brother. I'll do whatever you want, just save him."

My words seemed to pierce through his cool exterior. He turned to me, his expression softening in an instant.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" This time, there was something new in his voice-concern, real concern, not just the detached coolness I had come to expect from him.

I looked up at him, my vision blurry with tears, but I couldn't stop them from falling. "He... he..."

My voice broke as sobs overtook me, the memory of my brother's seizure playing over and over in my mind, shattering what little composure I had left.

The image of his body trembling, his eyes wide and empty, haunted me, a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

"Oh, baby," he murmured, his arms wrapping around me as he pulled me close.

His hand rested gently on my back, his touch both unfamiliar and oddly comforting. "Calm down. Take a deep breath. I'm here."

His voice, though firm, was soothing, like a balm against the storm raging within me.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a glimmer of safety, a flicker of warmth in the chaos. I let out a shaky breath, allowing myself to lean into him as the tears poured freely.

For fifteen minutes, I cried into his chest, my anguish spilling out in a torrent of tears. He held me through it all, his presence steady and unyielding, a rock against the waves of my grief.

When the tears finally stopped, leaving me drained and empty, I pulled away, wiping my eyes. I needed a moment, a breath to collect myself.

Excusing myself, I slipped away to the restroom, hoping the cold water would help clear my mind, though it felt impossible to wash away the despair clinging to me like a second skin.

In the mirror, I saw a stranger. My eyes were swollen, my face pale and drawn. The woman staring back at me was no longer someone in control of her life, no longer someone who had choices.

Instead, I saw someone desperate, someone willing to make impossible decisions just to protect what little she had left.

How had my life unraveled so quickly? The weight of the decision before me felt suffocating.

Could I really marry a man I barely knew, all for the sake of paying my brother's medical bills? Was love a luxury I could no longer afford?

With a heavy sigh, I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the despair clinging to me. But as I stepped back outside, the sight of him-calmly scrolling through his phone, every movement exuding effortless grace-stirred something unexpected within me.

Butterflies.

The realization caught me off guard, and I quickly pushed the thought aside.

Now?

I couldn't afford to let my emotions get in the way.

I walked back to him, my steps unsure, and as I approached, he put his phone away, his full attention now on me.

His gaze was penetrating, and it made me nervous, uncertain of how to begin. I opened my mouth, but no words came.

What was I supposed to say now?

That I was desperate enough to sell myself for a chance to save my brother?

Could I even explain that to him?

He noticed my hesitation. "We can do this another day," he said, his voice gentle yet firm.

"You don't seem ready to talk."

"No." I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I need your help."

His eyes searched mine, as though trying to see through the mask I had carefully constructed. "What is it, Amanda?"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. This was it. There was no turning back now. "Let's get married."

For a moment, he said nothing. His silence was deafening, his gaze unrelenting as if he were trying to read my very soul. The weight of it made me want to disappear, to be swallowed whole by the earth. Was this really happening?

"When will I get the payment?" I asked, desperate to break the tension. I couldn't wait for him to make a decision for me-I needed to take control, even if it was just a small piece of this broken puzzle.

Instead of answering, he leaned forward, his tone sharper now. "What's wrong, Amanda? Why are you at the hospital? What happened to your brother? Tell me."

I stiffened, caught off guard by his persistence. "That's none of your business," I replied, my voice wavering but determined. "The offer is practical, and I've had time to think about it."

"It's been two days," he said, his skepticism clear. "I need to know what's really going on."

"I've made my decision," I shot back, trying to sound resolute. "I stand to gain a lot, and it's only for a year. After that, we'll go our separate ways."

He studied me in silence once more, his gaze unwavering. The intensity of his stare was unnerving, and I found myself growing agitated, my anxiety bubbling up.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, his voice softer this time. "Amanda, tell me the truth."

I felt my frustration boil over. "Why does it matter? I've already said yes. Isn't that enough for you?"

His next words caught me off guard. "Let's get married next week."

"Next week?" I echoed, the timeline shocking me. The reality of my situation hit me like a tidal wave.

This wasn't a decision I could take back.

My brother's life hung in the balance, and I had made my choice.

Yet, as I looked at the man before me, I couldn't shake the feeling that this arrangement, born out of desperation, would shape my life in ways I couldn't yet comprehend.