Synopsis: How far would you go to save the one you love? Keziah Brown, a struggling waitress, fights every day to afford her mother's life-saving treatment. But when a reckless night leads to a painful encounter with billionaire Grey Trevor, she's left heartbroken and humiliated. Weeks later, an offer changes everything $20 million to marry Grey, a man she despises. Forced into a cold, loveless marriage, Keziah soon realizes she's just a pawn in a dangerous game of power, deception, and buried secrets. With Grey's jealous stepbrother scheming against them, an ex-fiancée returning with a shocking claim, and whispers of a long-dead father who may still be alive, Keziah is trapped in a web of lies. But when hearts betray and truths unravel, will Keziah find her escape or is she destined to fall for the man who could destroy her?
Chapter 1 The weight of desperation
The beeping of machines was the only sound in the room, steady and cruel. Keziah Brown sat on the edge of the hospital bed, clutching her mother's frail hand.
Evelyn Jameson was a shadow of herself lungs gasping for air, eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. The room reeked of antiseptic and slow goodbyes.
Keziah had stopped crying days ago. Now she just stared tired, broke, and running out of time.
"Mom," she whispered, brushing a strand of graying hair from her mother's forehead, "just hold on a little longer. Please."
Evelyn didn't respond. The oxygen mask hissed as it pumped air into her weak body.
Keziah blinked back the sting in her eyes and checked the time on her cracked phone screen. She had fifteen minutes to get to work.
Again.
She grabbed her coat, kissed her mother's forehead, and bolted out the door, weaving through nurses and hallway chaos. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like judgment.
Josie's, a half decent spot in the middle of downtown, wasn't glamorous, but it paid barely enough. Keziah clocked in, tied her apron, and forced a smile.
"Late again," muttered Carla, the manager, glancing at the time sheet.
"Yeah, sorry. My mom..."
Carla waved a hand. "Don't bring your drama here. Table five's already complaining."
Of course they were. Keziah grabbed a notepad and made her way over. Every movement felt like dragging chains.
By 10 p.m., her feet were killing her, and her back screamed from carrying trays. She had $38 in tips barely enough for gas. She considered crying. Again. But what was the point?
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lizzy.
LIZZY: Emergency tequila night. You need this. Come get drunk with me, woman.
Keziah sighed.
KEZIAH: Can't. Work + dying mom = hard pass.
LIZZY: Party in the Hills. Swear it'll help you breathe.
KEZIAH: I can't afford to breathe, Liz...
LIZZY: I'll pick you up. No excuses.
An hour later.....
Keziah stood in the middle of a mansion with ceilings so high she thought they'd scrape the stars. Glass chandeliers, velvet rugs, wine like blood in crystal glasses everything screamed money. More money than she'd ever see in her life.
"You owe me for this," she muttered to Lizzy, tugging down the too-short black dress her friend had made her wear.
"You'll thank me when you're three shots deep and not thinking about hospital bills." Lizzy winked and handed her a drink.
Keziah took it.
And then another.
And another.
But Lizzy was already gone halfway to the bar, winking at a man with a Rolex. Keziah wandered, pretending she belonged, sipping something tart and expensive she couldn't pronounce. Her stomach was empty, but the alcohol filled the space with something warm and reckless.
The crowd blurred models, influencers, men with suits and secrets. She stumbled through the room, buzzing and reckless, until her eyes locked with his.
Tall, Impeccably tailored suit. Steel-grey eyes that looked like they didn't care about anything or anyone.
Grey Trevor.
She didn't know his name yet, only that he was too calm for this chaos. Like everyone else was a distraction.
Keziah stared back, unblinking.
Something about him dared her to approach.
And so, with tequila still warm in her blood and pain still screaming behind her ribs, she did.
He looked her up and down, sharp, assessing and unreadable.
Then he said one word.
"Lost?"
Keziah straightened. "Just trying to find something real in a room full of fake."
His eyebrow lifted. "You say that like you're not one of them."
"I'm not."
"You're in their house."
"I'm not here for them."
He stepped closer, glass in hand, voice low.
"Then who are you here for?"
Keziah's mouth opened. Closed.
"I don't know anymore," she admitted.
The silence stretched. A charged pause.
Then he smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Come."
He didn't ask. He led.
She followed.
Through the crowd, up the spiral stairs, past doors that whispered of money and closed secrets.
He opened one, and the noise from the party vanished.
Now it was just the two of them. A room soaked in darkness and velvet.
Keziah didn't know what she was doing.
Or maybe she did and just didn't care.
He kissed like he owned the air. Touched like the world owed him softness. There was no tenderness in it. Only hunger.
She tried to slow it, as the feeling felt so foreign to her, she held her breathe, but he didn't stop. Didn't ask.
Her hands trembled, not with fear but with the feeling she was stepping off a cliff with no parachute.
Keziah woke up sore and alone in a guest bedroom that felt colder than a morgue. Her dress was half on. Her dignity? Missing.
A note on the pillow said nothing but:
"Hope you got what you wanted. G"
She crumpled it in her fist and felt something in her snap.
And that was it.
No name. No goodbye.
Just cold air and shame as she walked out barefoot, heels in hand.
Outside, the cold slapped her sober.
She stumbled down the sidewalk, wiping at her cheeks, refusing to cry harder than she already was.
Lizzy found her half an hour later, curled on a bench near the valet station.
"Jesus, Kez.. what happened?"
"Take me home."
Two Weeks Later.....
Keziah stared at the pregnancy test in the tiny diner bathroom.
Negative.
Her shoulders sagged, relief crashing through her like a tidal wave.
But it didn't erase the night.
Didn't erase the memory of how small she felt afterward. How used.
She never even got his name.
But he had hers.
One week later.....
The hospital bills were past due.
Her mother had two months at best. The specialists required a deposit Keziah didn't have. Every shift at Josie's bled her dry. Every night, she lay awake wondering what else she had left to give the world that hadn't already been taken.
Suddenly an envelope came with no return address.
Inside was a photo.
Her.
In that bedroom.
Naked.
Curled on the bed after it was over.
Keziah's heart stopped.
There was no note. No threat. Just the image and the weight of knowing someone had wanted her to see it.
She ran to Lizzy's apartment in a storm of panic.
"This was sent to me. Someone took that photo. He took it he... But why? What is this?"
Lizzy paled. "This is... twisted. You need to go to the police."
Keziah laughed bitterly.
"And tell them what? That I slept with a billionaire whose name I don't even know? They'll say I asked for it."
Lizzy sat on the floor beside her. "We'll figure this out."
"Figure what out? He used me. Then tossed me. And now someone's watching me."
The next morning, Lizzy made a call. To a friend of a friend.
That afternoon, Keziah finally learned the name that would change her life.
Grey Trevor.
CEO of the Trevor Group, Reclusive and Ruthless. Engaged once to a model, but never married. Billionaire by twenty-seven. Rumored to be heartless, strategic, untouchable.
Keziah stared at his photo in an online profile.
It was him.
The man who never asked her name.
The man who left her broken in silence.
The man who unknowingly was about to change everything.