Mr Billionaire wants me back

Chapter One – Flora's POV

I stood in front of the rundown apartment complex, staring up at the cracks in the concrete as I fumbled for my keys. The building looked worse than it had yesterday if that was even possible-like it might collapse under the weight of its own neglect. The heavy humidity clung to my skin like guilt, pressing in from all sides. Still, I didn't move. Not yet.

My thoughts were spiraling, tangled in the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. Everything was slipping through my fingers-every plan, every hope, every carefully laid-out version of the future. The weight of it all settled in my chest like a brick I couldn't dislodge.

I hadn't seen Lucas in months, not since that awkward encounter at my college reunion. He'd been just as infuriating then as he was now-smug, unreadable, and far too used to getting his way. We'd exchanged a few words, enough to stir up memories and frustrations I thought I'd buried.

And now here I was, standing on a cracked sidewalk with a ring in my pocket and a deal hanging over my head.

The key finally turned in the lock with a reluctant click, and I pushed the door open, stepping into the dim warmth of the apartment. The air smelled faintly of chamomile tea and old wood-a scent I'd come to associate with my grandmother. She was curled up in her favorite chair near the window, a crocheted blanket draped across her thin legs. Her face lit up when she saw me, but even that small smile couldn't hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Flora, you're home early," she said softly. Her voice was just a whisper now, each syllable weighted with effort.

I returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Had to take care of some things."

She didn't ask what. She hadn't in a while. Lately, she'd been too tired to press for answers, but I could feel her eyes on me-always watching, always knowing when I was holding something back. And I was. I always was.

I set my bag down and walked over to her, crouching beside the chair. I took her hand in mine, the skin paper-thin and cold, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "How are you feeling today?" I asked gently, already bracing for the answer.

She gave a weak shrug. "I'm fine, dear. Just tired."

She was always tired. The doctors had said the cancer was progressing faster than expected, that the basic treatments weren't enough anymore. We needed specialists. We needed more time. We needed money.

I looked around the room, taking in the chipped paint, the sagging ceiling, and the heater that rattled more than it warmed. This wasn't the life we'd imagined. It wasn't the life she deserved. And I'd promised her better. I'd promised to take care of her.

Instead, I was considering marrying a man I barely trusted in exchange for a bank account and a bargaining chip.

Lucas had called me again last night, his voice infuriatingly calm as he repeated his offer like it was the most logical thing in the world. Two years. That was the deal. I'd wear his ring, pretend to be his wife, and he'd cover all of Grandma's medical expenses.

Just business, he'd said. A simple arrangement.

Simple. Right.

I had called him back later that evening. Not to accept, not yet. But I needed answers. I needed to know why me-why someone like Lucas, who could have anyone, would go through the trouble of finding me, offering me something like this. His answer had been vague. "You're the only one who makes sense."

Whatever that meant.

I looked down at the ring he'd given me to wear "for appearances." It was simple but beautiful-a thin platinum band with a single diamond that shimmered under the living room lamp. It didn't feel real. None of this did.

Two years, I told myself again. Just two years. It wasn't love. It wasn't forever. It was survival.

Grandma's voice broke through my thoughts. "Flora," she said, her tone soft but laced with concern. "You've been so distracted lately. What's going on?"

I hesitated. A lie formed instantly-something light and meaningless-but it felt wrong to use it. She deserved at least a piece of the truth.

"Nothing, Grandma," I said, forcing a smile. "Just... figuring things out."

Her tired eyes narrowed. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself too, not just me."

Her words hit harder than I expected. I'd been so wrapped up in making sure she was okay that I hadn't stopped to ask if I was. Most days I felt like a ghost-drifting from task to task, just barely tethered to my own body.

"I promise," I whispered.

She reached out and gently squeezed my hand. It took all her strength.

After I helped her to bed, I lingered in the kitchen with the light off, staring out the window into the dark. I didn't know what I was looking for-maybe a sign, maybe a reason to say no to Lucas.

But instead, I found myself pulling out my phone.

I tapped his name. It rang twice.

"You've decided," he said, not a question, but a statement.

I closed my eyes. "I'll do it."

He exhaled like he'd known all along. "Good. I'll send someone over tomorrow with the paperwork. And a car. You'll need to move into the penthouse by the end of the week."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "Penthouse?"

"Yes," he said, already sounding distracted. "We have to make it believable, Flora. If people think it's a real marriage, it'll be easier to manage appearances. And my father won't dig too deep."