Chapter Three

Lily's POV:

My breath hitched as I stared at the car, my heart hammering in my chest. Slowly, my wide eyes traveled up to the driver’s seat.

“What the hell!” I muttered under my breath before slamming my palms against the car’s hood.

The driver didn’t respond. Instead, the car reversed a few feet, then sped past me as if nothing had happened.

Without thinking, I bent down, grabbed a stone from the pavement, and hurled it at the car’s rear window. 

The car came to a stop.

My pulse quickened as the back door opened. A man stepped out, tall and handsomely dressed in all black.

As he walked toward me, he pulled out a business card and held it out to me. “Contact me about the payment.” He said, devoid of emotion.

My jaws dropped. “You almost killed me, and this is your response?”

“You ran in front of my car.” He replied curtly, unfazed.

“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, my anger boiling over.

His gaze didn’t waver. “I could sue you for defamation of character.” He said coldly. “It’s obvious you’re looking for a payout by claiming attempted murder.”

My mouth fell open, words failed me as I stared at him in disbelief.

“Oh, I get it.” I began. “You must be the poster boy for privilege and bad decisions. Let me guess: your daddy's money bought that shiny car, and your personality came pre-installed with the same level of care as that custom license plate screaming, ‘I’m compensating!’ Seriously, do you get your arrogance in bulk, or is there a subscription plan? I mean, how do you even manage to squeeze that overinflated ego into such a tiny brain? I should charge you rent for taking up this much of my time, but clearly, you think throwing cash around is the solution to everything. Spoiler alert: it’s not. Next time you decide to grace the road with your presence, try signaling with your manners instead of just your horn—or better yet, stay home, polish that massive chip on your shoulder, and let the rest of us live. Now, do me a favor: Next time you almost kill someone, step out of your car, take a deep breath, and apologize properly—or does your golden spoon get in the way of speaking human?”

“That would cost about 10.2 million dollars, excluding the charges for repairs, of course.” He said coldly, flicking a black card toward me like I was some kind of valet.

The card fluttered to the ground, brushing against my cheek on its way down. My fingers twitched to grab it, but the sheer arrogance dripping from his tone made me freeze.

Without sparing me another glance, he turned on his heel and walked back to his shiny car—one of those ridiculously expensive models that screamed I have too much money and zero taste. 

Before I could muster a retort, the tires squealed, leaving the scent of burnt rubber in the air.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the abandoned card on the ground. The absurdity of the situation made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. 

Who throws a card at someone after nearly mowing them down? As if money could magically erase the fact that I almost became roadkill.

Shaking my head, I left the card where it was and started walking. 

Eventually, I found myself at a tiny café. I ordered a cup of coffee and settled into a corner booth by the window.

Life has never felt more hopeless. I didn't have an actual job, no money, and a lot of debts.

“Oh, you mean the one you pitied? The one who looked so tired and desperate? So you decided to pay her 300,000 dollars for a mere painting.” Bethany words kept on echoing in my head.

I scoffed. 

The rich and powerful could throw their money around, and people like me were expected to pick it up and smile. 

Time passed without me realizing it. The café emptied out, and the staff began wiping tables and flipping chairs. It wasn’t until the clock above the counter struck midnight that I finally snapped out of my thoughts.

“Figures.” I muttered to myself. “Even time has the decency to move on. Why can’t I?”

I paid for my coffee, left a small tip, and stepped outside.

I flagged down a cab to take me back to the small apartment I shared with my father. As I approached the building, my stomach churned. 

Something felt…off.

I caught sight of our belongings stacked outside the gate. I jumped out of the cab, barely remembering to pay the driver before running to the gate. “What’s going on?” I shouted, banging on the iron gate.

The gateman stepped out, dressed in a raincoat, holding an umbrella. He looked at me with pity but didn’t seem surprised. “Madam, the landlady said not to let you in. Rent has been overdue for six months.” He explained flatly.

“Six months?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Please, just let me talk to her. I can explain—”

“She doesn’t want to talk.” He interrupted, shaking his head. “She said what she said. Sorry.” With that, he turned and disappeared into his little office, leaving me drenched in the rain.

I pulled out my phone and called the landlady, my fingers trembling. She didn’t pick up. I called again. Nothing.

I rummaged through my bag, looking for anything—a plan, a solution, a miracle. Instead, my fingers brushed against the card. The one I swore I’d never use.

I pulled it out, staring at the design and the name printed on it: Williams Carter, the General Manager of Hills Inc.

 “A job proposal.” He’d said. “A contract marriage to Lucas Hawke.” The words felt surreal. But what choice did I have?

My thumb hovered over the number for a moment before I dialed. The phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, sir. It’s… it’s me. The lady you gave a job proposal to earlier.” I stammered, my voice barely steady.

“Ah, yes.” He said. “Have you made up your mind?”

I hesitated, glancing at the rain pouring around me. “Yes, I have. But first, I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight.”

There was a pause, just long enough for doubt to creep in. Then his reply came,m. “I’m on my way.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

Wait. I didn’t tell him my address.

Faer surged as I tried calling him back, but he didn’t pick up. My heart raced, each second stretching unbearably long until, eight minutes later, a black car pulled up in front of me.

The window rolled down, and there he was, the man in black from earlier. “Enter.” He commanded.

I hesitated but climbed into the back seat. “I didn’t give you my address.” I said, my voice trembling. “How did you—”

“I just know.” He said curtly, cutting me off.

The mysterious air around him made me feel unsettled, but I didn’t press further. Instead, I glanced at the bag of belongings . “What about my things?”

“It will be taken care of.” He replied, his tone dismissive.

I leaned back in silence as the car sped through the rain-slicked streets. 

The city lights blurred past, and before long, we were pulling up to a grand mansion. My mouth fell open as I took in the towering gates and perfectly manicured lawn.

He parked and stepped out, grabbing an umbrella. He walked around to my side, opened the door, and held the umbrella out for me. I hesitated, still processing everything, before stepping out.

We walked to the front door, where he entered a code on the keypad so quickly I couldn’t catch a single digit. 

The door clicked open, and I stepped inside, feeling dwarfed by the large interior.

“She’s here, Lucas.” He called out as we entered a wide sitting room.

A man sat with his back to us. Slowly, he turned to face me.

I froze.

My heart dropped into my stomach as I recognized him.

“Don’t tell me I have to marry the rude sports car guy.” I muttered under my breath, my voice filled with disbelief.

The man—Lucas Hawke—stood, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in the air that made my skin prickle.

I stared at him, my mind racing. This was the man I’d hurled a stone at just hours ago. The man who had tossed a card at my face like I was nothing. And now…now I was supposed to marry him?

“Well?” He said, his voice low and commanding. “Shall we discuss the terms of our arrangement?”