Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Nella's point of view 

“ You will know soon.” He said,  deciding not to tell me why he saved me, he turned his broad shoulders at me, his presence wanting me to talk but calling him would draw attention, unfortunately his actions kept me lost in thought, I had my freedom for a few days.

Meanwhile, before he left he stood by the doorway with the doctor talking in low tone before he stared at me, leaving a smirk on his face, the doctor came in removing the cuffs from my hands.

The rough hospital gown brushed slightly against my skin, I swinged my legs over the side of the bed, the cold tiles sending a jolt through my feet.

My body ached with any slight movement, I insisted and pushed my body forward.

Each step towards the door felt like sin, the air filled with bleach and drugs, the weight of the building fell on my shoulders.

I stretched my hands for the door handle, my fingers brushing against the metal when a strong hand caught my arm, stopping me halfway gone.

 

I tilted my neck, meeting the cold eyes of a nurse in white clothes.

Her hands strong not leaving mine as I struggled to free myself, her face dark like the devils

“You can’t leave,” she said, her voice carrying the trigger that hit my chest, sending chills down my spine.

The clipboard in her other hand felt heavier than it should, her fingers tightening around it. “Your bills haven’t been cleared.” The words sank into my chest, a sharp, invisible punch. 

My throat tightened as I stepped back, the walls of the room closing in.

The door opened, air rushed into the room, a man in a dark suit walked in, his eyes cold and his eyes accessing my entire existence.

“ Sir, she was trying to escape without paying the bills.” 

I could tell he was the hospital director, his presence carried authority, but his eyes held nothing but indifference.

The man let out a loud breath, flipping the file before leveling me with a gaze that made me feel naked and exposed at the moment.

 “You have no legal identity, no funds, and no one willing to vouch for you.” 

His voice was loud and harsh, carrying a weight that sent a sharp pulse through my skull. 

“If no one claims you, we’ll have no choice but to inform the authorities.”

I stood looking at him sheepishly, trying to process his words. What does he mean?

Who will I get to claim me if that's what's needed?

What mess have I gotten myself into? I would have fallen on the stairs, died and I won't have to bother, I would have allowed myself to burn in the fire, I should have died in the accident?

Why is my life getting so messed up, I don't know who I am.

A thick knot formed in my stomach, my pulse pounding in my ears as my heart raced very fast trapped in my chest.

I remembered him as I rushed to place a call,

“ Can I make a call?” I asked in a low tone, “ yes you can.” I nodded walking back to my bed.

My fingers shook as I reached for the phone beside my bed, the numbers blurring as I pressed them. 

I kept calling the line, each second stretching longer than the last. 

Should I call him? Will he at least let me be their maid, it's better than getting locked up in a room with dangerous thieves.

Finally, the call connected. My breath caught in my lungs, my voice low and teary “Oliver,” I whispered, holding the device as if it could anchor me. A pause, then a sharp exhale on the other end. 

His voice, once familiar, now felt like a blade against my skin. “Who are you to call me by my name?” he scoffed, venom lacing every word. “You brought this on yourself.” The line went dead.

The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering against the floor. My chest rose and fell, the weight of his rejection pressing down, suffocating. 

The walls of the hospital stretched around me, too white, too sterile, too much. My legs felt weak, my hands trembling as the truth settled deep in my bones.

 I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. The air thickened, pressing against my ribs, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue.

The moon cast a pale glow through the hospital window, its light stretching across the cold floor.

 I sat motionless, my fingers curled around the thin fabric of the blanket, my gaze locked on the glass. 

My reflection stared back, hollow eyes, lips pressed into a thin line, shoulders slumped beneath the crushing weight of reality. 

The city outside pulsed with life, but in this room, time stood still. I had nothing. No one. Nowhere to go.

The sound of the door clicking open barely registered, but the air shifted, thickening with an unspoken presence. 

Michael’s footsteps were unhurried, precise, the sharp scent of expensive cologne trailing behind him. He moved like a shadow, silent, calculated, watching without speaking. 

A chair scraped against the floor, its legs screeching as he lowered himself into it. His movements held no hesitation, only certainty, as if he had already decided how this would end. “I have a proposition,” he said, his voice even, devoid of sympathy.

A folder slid across the table, its smooth leather cover stopping just inches from my trembling hands. My breath hitched, my chest tightening as I read the bold letters printed on the first page. 

Marriage Contract. The weight of it pressed into my lap like iron. My fingers twitched, hovering over the edge of the document, but I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t need to. I already knew this was a deal, not a choice.

Michael leaned back, his expression unreadable, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “Five years,” he stated, each syllable deliberate. “You help me take down Oliver’s company.” 

The words landed between us like a challenge, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. My throat tightened, the walls pressing closer as he continued. “In exchange, I give you a new identity, protection, and a future for your child.”

 His fingers tapped against the armrest, waiting, watching. He had just offered me my life back, but at what cost?

The silence thickened, stretching between us, filling every crack in the room. My pulse pounded as I stared at the contract, my vision blurring at the edges.

 Everything in me screamed to refuse, to fight, to run. But where would I go? The cuff on my wrist was gone, but I was still trapped, and the man across from me knew it.

 My fingers closed around the pen, the cool metal biting into my palm. My hand shop bike as I hovered over the signature line. Michael exhaled, his voice a quiet command. “You have no other option.”

The pen touches paper with my hands shaking.