Chapter 2 The Offer

Chapter 2: The Offer

Elara's Point of View

I woke up with a pain in my stomach, the kind that feels like I swallowed a rock. The morning sun peeked through my cracked blinds, lighting up my tiny apartment. My phone sat on the coffee table, and Dante's text stared back at me. "Meet me tomorrow at the park on 5th Street. Noon. I have an offer you can't refuse." I rubbed my eyes, wishing I could make it go away. But I couldn't. Not when my bank account had less than twenty bucks, and my baby was counting on me.

I got dressed, pulling on my only clean pair of jeans and a loose shirt that didn't squeeze my belly. My shoes were worn out, the soles thin enough to feel every pebble. I grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen, my breakfast, and headed out. The park wasn't far, just a ten-minute walk, but every step felt heavier than the last. What did this guy want? Why me?

The park was busy when I got there. Kids ran around, laughing and chasing each other. Moms pushed strollers, and an old man fed pigeons from a bench. I scanned the crowd, my heart thumping. Then I saw him. Dante Sinclair stood under a big oak tree, still in a fancy suit, like he didn't belong here with the swings and slides. His face was serious, but his eyes softened when they found me.

"Elara," he said, nodding as I walked up. "You came."

"Didn't have much choice," I said, crossing my arms over my belly. "What's this offer?"

He gestured to a bench nearby. "Sit. Please."

I hesitated, then sat down, keeping some space between us. The bench was cold, and I shifted, trying to get comfortable. Dante sat too, his hands resting on his knees. He looked out of place, like a king in a playground.

"I know you're struggling," he said, his voice low. "Medical bills. Rent. Food. It's too much for one person, especially with a baby coming."

I bristled, my face getting hot. "I'm doing fine," I lied. "I don't need you poking into my life."

He didn't blink. "You're not fine. I can help. I want to help."

"Why?" I snapped, leaning forward. "You don't know me. Why do you care?"

He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "I made a promise to someone. To look out for you. And I keep my promises."

I frowned. "Who? Who'd make you promise something like that?"

He looked away, his jaw tight. "Doesn't matter. What matters is I can give you and your baby a better life."

I laughed, but it sounded sharp, like glass breaking. "A better life? What, you gonna wave a magic wand and make my problems disappear?"

"No magic," he said, pulling a folded paper from his jacket. "A contract."

I stared at the paper like it might bite me. "What kind of contract?"

He unfolded it and handed it to me. The words were small and neat, but I didn't read them yet. I just looked at him, waiting.

"Marry me," he said, his voice steady. "For one year. I'll pay all your bills, cover your medical costs, and set up a fund for your child. After the year, you're free. You walk away with enough money to start over."

My mouth dropped open. I felt like the world stopped spinning. Marry him? This stranger? I looked at the paper, my hands shaking. The words blurred together, but I caught phrases like "temporary marriage" and "financial support." My head spun.

"You're crazy," I said, shoving the paper back at him. "I'm not marrying some guy I just met!"

"It's not about love," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "It's about security. For you. For your baby."

I stood up, my legs wobbly. "I don't trust you. This sounds like a trick."

"It's not a trick," he said, standing too. He was tall, towering over me, but his voice was calm. "I don't want anything from you, Elara. I just want to help."

"Then why a marriage?" I asked, my voice loud enough that a mom nearby glanced over. "Why not just give me the money?"

He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Because you wouldn't take it. You're too proud. This way, it's a deal. You give me a year, and I give you a future."

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He was right. I wouldn't take a handout. I'd been on my own too long, fighting to prove I didn't need anyone. But now, with a baby coming, I wasn't so sure. I looked down at my belly, feeling a soft kick. My baby deserved better than a mom who could barely pay rent.

"I need to think about it," I said finally, my voice small.

"Take your time," he said, handing me the contract again. "But don't wait too long. You're running out of it."

I stuffed the paper in my pocket and turned to leave, my heart racing. I didn't look back, but I felt his eyes on me as I walked away. The park felt too loud now, the kids' laughter grating on my nerves. I needed quiet. I needed to think.

Back at my apartment, I sat on the couch, the contract in my hands. I read it slowly, every word making my stomach twist. It was simple: marry Dante for a year, live with him, act like his wife in public. In return, he'd pay off my debts and give me a bank account with more money than I'd ever seen. After the year, I could leave, no strings attached. It sounded too good to be true. And in my experience, when something sounded like that, it usually was.

I tossed the contract on the table and rubbed my face. My phone , and I jumped. Another text from an unknown number. My hands shook as I opened it.

"Don't trust him, Elara. He's not who he says he is."

My breath caught. The number was different from Dante's. No name, no clue who sent it. I stared at the words, my heart pounding. Who was this? How did they know about Dante? I typed a reply, my fingers were shaking. "Who are you?"

No answer. I waited, staring at the screen, but it stayed silent. I set the phone down, my hands cold. I looked at the contract again, then back at the text. My head hurt from all the questions. Was Dante lying? Was this some kind of game? Or was the text a trick to scare me?

I stood up and paced my tiny living room, the floor creaking under my feet. I wanted to call Lucy, tell her everything, but I didn't. This felt too big, too strange. I stopped and put my hand on my belly, feeling another kick. "What do I do, little one?" I whispered.

A knock at the door made me jump. My heart raced as I walked over, peeking through the peephole. A woman stood there, tall and blonde, with a fancy coat and a sharp smile. I didn't know her, but something about her made my skin crawl.

"Elara Hayes?" she called through the door, her voice smooth but cold. "We need to talk. It's about Dante Sinclair."

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. How did she know my name? And why was she here? I looked at my phone, the mystery text message still glowing on the screen. My stomach twisted as I realized something was very wrong. Who was this woman, and what did she know about Dante?