Hospitals always felt cold, but today… it felt like the walls were grieving with me.
I pulled the thin blanket up over my mother's shoulders, pretending not to see how fragile she looked beneath it. Her skin seemed paler than yesterday. Her breaths made something inside me twist.
"Did you eat today?" she whispered, voice barely a thread.
I forced a smile she couldn't possibly believe.
"Yeah, Mom. I had something."
I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.
Every money I made went straight into her medication. Into the bills. Into trying to keep us from collapsing completely.
Her hand trembled as she touched mine. "You're working too much, Amelia."
Working too much.
Working always.
Working because the universe had decided to test how far one girl could bend before she snapped.
"I'm fine," I whispered.
The lie burned on my tongue.
A knock echoed through the room. Dr. Collins walked in, his expression carefully professional. That expression, the kind that meant bad news, made my heart sink.
"Miss Hayes," he began, "we need to review your mother's treatment plan."
My throat tightened. "Is something wrong?"
He exhaled slowly. "Your insurance appeal was denied again."
The floor seemed to tilt under my feet.
"So what happens now?" My voice sounded small. Younger. Like I was fifteen again, watching my father walk out the door and never return.
Dr. Collins clasped his hands. "Without coverage… the hospital can't continue this treatment level. You have seven days to settle the outstanding balance. Otherwise, we'll have to transfer her."
Transfer.
A soft word for abandoning her to cheaper care that wouldn't keep her alive.
My knees nearly buckled.
Seven days?
I couldn't even pay next month's rent.
My mother's hand tightened around mine. "Amelia… don't panic—"
But I was already drowning. And I couldn't let her see it.
"I'll fix it," I whispered. "I'll fix everything."
I didn't know how.
I walked out of the hospital with a tightness in my chest that made breathing feel optional. The sun was too bright. The world too normal for how shattered I felt.
My phone buzzed nonstop.
RENT DUE — FINAL WARNING
Your scholarship is in danger due to absence
Shift starts at 5. Don't be late again message from my Supervisor
My vision blurred. I blinked it away. Crying was a luxury I couldn't afford.
As I hurried toward my second job, the underpaid temp agency, I got a text from them:
URGENT: All female staff to Studio 4. Immediate casting.
Emergency casting?
Probably another ridiculous photoshoot where we pretended to model luxury clothes others wore for real.
Studio 4 was chaos when I arrived.
Lights everywhere. Assistants running like the world was ending. Models in shimmering dresses touching up their lipstick. Photographers shouting instructions no one followed.
"Hayes!" My supervisor rushed toward me, frazzled and sweating. "The contracted model backed out. Get in makeup, now!"
"What? I've never—"
"Doesn't matter. Just stand there and don't faint."
Before I could argue, a makeup artist yanked me onto a stool and pulled my hair into a sleek low bun. Powder, blush, mascara all done in thirty seconds by hands that had clearly stopped caring about gentleness years ago.
"This is for Moretti Global," she mumbled. "So, chin up. Eyes open. Don't blink like a startled bat."
I nearly choked.
"Moretti as in—"
She rolled her eyes as she cut in. "Yes. That Moretti."
Luca Moretti.
The billionaire on every financial headline.
The cold, beautiful nightmare the media called unstable.
The CEO whose board whispered about behind shiny boardroom doors.
Before I could process the absurdity of it all, someone shoved me toward the set.
"Go stand there! Hurry!"
I stumbled forward, straight into something hard and warm.
A chest.
Strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me. My breath caught as I looked up…
And the world froze.
Eyes like polished obsidian.
Face blade-sharp and unreadable.
A presence that felt like stepping into a winter storm.
Luca Moretti.
The Ice King himself.
"You're… not the model," he said, voice low and smooth, more dangerous than any rumor.
"I—I was asked to fill in," I managed.
He didn't blink. His gaze drifted from my eyes to my mouth, then back again.
A slow, deliberate assessment that made heat crawl up my neck.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Amelia," I whispered. "Amelia Hayes."
For a split barely noticeable second, something flickered in his eyes.
Recognition?
No… impossible.
An assistant rushed forward. "Mr. Moretti, the board is requesting—"
Luca lifted one hand without looking away from me.
The assistant went silent instantly.
His attention stayed locked on me.
Too intense. Too focused.
"Interesting," he murmured.
My heart hammered. "I—I can step aside if—"
"No." His voice cut cleanly through mine. "Stay."
A chill slid down my spine.
Not fear.
Something I didn't want to name yet.
Luca stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the faint, expensive cologne on his suit.
"Amelia Hayes," he said my name like a statement, not a question.
"As unexpected as you are… you might be exactly what I've been looking for."
And that was the moment everything changed.
The moment my life began to unravel
and twist itself around Luca Moretti's world…
…whether I wanted it or not.