Chapter 5 - The Proposal

(Gloria)

The clock on the wall ticks painfully slow as i tap my fingers against the counter, my eyes flicking up every few seconds to check the time. 4:57 PM, almost there.

The coffee shop isn’t busy anymore, just a few customers lingering over their drinks, my shift ends at five, and I’m counting down the seconds. Not just because my feet ache from standing all day, but because I have a meeting, one I still can’t wrap my head around.

Eleanor Montclair.

I swallow, trying to ignore the way my stomach twists at the thought. What could she possibly want from me?

4:59 PM.

A customer approaches, and I force a polite smile, quickly ringing up their order. The moment I hand them their receipt, I strip off my apron, hurriedly stuff it under the counter, and grab my bag.

5:00 PM on the dot.

I waste no time pushing through the door, stepping out onto the street. The air is crisp, and streets over, a small café comes into view, the one Eleanor had mentioned earlier.

My heart pounds as I gingerly walk inside.

The place is quiet and intimate, the scent of coffee lingering in the air. My eyes scan the room until I spot her near the back, sitting with the kind of effortless elegance only someone like her can pull off.

Even in a simple beige dress, she exudes power. Her silver streaked hair is pinned neatly in place, a delicate gold watch glinting on her wrist. It looks like it can buy an island.

She looks up as I approach, a small, unreadable smile on her face. “Right on time.”

I nod back stiffly, sliding into the seat across from hers.

A waiter appears, but Eleanor simply waves a hand, dismissing them before turning her full attention to me.

“I won’t waste time with small talk,” she said smoothly, folding her hands together. “You seem like a smart girl, so I’ll get straight to the point.”

I sit up straighter, suddenly hyper aware of every movement.

She studies me, her sharp green eyes piercing. “I admire honesty, Miss Williams. It’s rare to find.”

I don’t respond, unsure where she’s going with this.

Her lips curve slightly. “Most people would have pocketed that purse and walked away.”

Oh.

I shift in my seat. “It wasn’t mine to take.”

“Precisely.” Eleanor nods. “That kind of integrity is valuable.”

I glance around, confused. “I… appreciate that, but I don’t understand why I’m here.”

Eleanor leans back, tapping a manicured finger against the table. “I have a proposition for you.”

Something about the way she says it makes the air feel heavier.

She pauses, as if measuring my reaction, then she continues. “I want you to marry my son.”

My breath catches in my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

Her expression remains calm. “Marry my son. Gabriel Montclair.”

I blink. My brain struggles to process the words, i must have heard her wrong.

“Are you serious?” My voice comes out weaker than I’d like.

“Deadly.”

I let out a short laugh, more from shock than amusement. “I… don’t even know him.”

Eleanor tilts her head. “You will.”

This is insane. Absolutely insane.

I stare at her, searching for any sign that this is some kind of elaborate joke, but her gaze remains steady, unwavering.

“You’re not joking,” I whisper.

“No.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice barely above a breath.

Eleanor exhales, as if she was slightly impatient. “My son stands to inherit a substantial amount of wealth, but there are conditions. He needs to be married to claim it. And Gabriel,” she pauses, choosing her words carefully, “is… resistant to the idea.”

I frown. “So you’re going behind his back?”

She doesn’t flinch. “I prefer to call it intervention.”

My stomach tightens. “He won’t agree to this.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Her smile is cold. “Not yet.”

I shake my head, this is insane. Unbelievable.

But before I can speak, Eleanor reaches into her bag and pulls out a neatly folded document. She slides it across the table to me.

I stare at it. “What is this?”

“The contract.”

I don’t touch it.

“You will receive one million dollars,” she continues, her tone smooth as silk. “Five hundred thousand upfront, the rest after the wedding.”

My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for the papers. The amount stares back at me, bold and undeniable.

One million dollars.

One. Million. Dollars.

My throat tightens even more.

I think about my empty bank account, the debt. The landlord who’s running out of patience, the fact that I don’t even have enough to last another month.

I think about Ethan.

Bile rises in my throat at the memory of him, smug and shameless in my own bed with another woman, while I was out working, trying to keep us afloat.

He ruined me.

I swallow hard, hands gripping the edge of the contract. “And what exactly would I have to do?”

Eleanor watches me closely. “Be his wife. Legally.”

“That’s it?” My voice is hoarse.

She nods. “For a year.”

A year.

One year of my life for financial security.

It shouldn’t even be a choice, yet my gut twists violently.

I exhale shakily. “He’s going to hate me.”

A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Oh, most certainly.”

That should be a deal breaker. But it’s not, because hatred, I can handle.

Starvation, homelessness, and the crushing weight of financial ruin? That, I can’t.

I grip the contract tighter.

Eleanor sees my hesitation and leans in slightly. “I won’t lie to you, Miss Williams. This won’t be easy. Gabriel is not an easy man. He’s stubborn, difficult, and he won’t make this pleasant.”

I nod slowly, my heart pounding.

She studies me for a long moment, then she tilts her head. “Do we have a deal?”

I lick my lips, my mouth dry.

One year.

One million dollars.

My fingers tighten around the paper as I lift my chin and meet her gaze.

“…Yes.”

Eleanor’s smile deepens, slow and satisfied.

“Good.”

One year. One million dollars. And a man who will probably hate me. What could go wrong?