All my life, I had known nothing but debt.
It followed me like a shadow. Quiet when I tried to ignore it. Suffocating when I stopped pretending it did not exist. My father's death did not just take him from us. It left behind unpaid loans, broken promises, and a trail of obligations my mother and I were never meant to carry.
He had been a good man once. Or at least that was how I remembered him. Strong arms. A tired smile. The sound of his laughter filling our small apartment when things were still simple. Before addiction crept in and stole pieces of him one by one.
When he died, the debts stayed.
Now my mother lay in a hospital bed, her body thin and fragile beneath white sheets, fighting leukemia with a strength that terrified me. The bills stacked higher with every visit. Every treatment. Every prescription. Every day she stayed alive.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I was drowning.
I walked into the hospital that morning with my shoulders tight and my head aching. I had barely slept. Between my shifts at the restaurant, phone calls from loan agencies, and the constant fear that today might be the day I lost her, my body felt like it was running on fumes.
The hallway smelled like disinfectant and quiet despair.
I checked the time on my phone. I was early for my appointment with Dr Lawal, the physician overseeing my mother's treatment. My chest tightened as I approached his office door. Something about today felt wrong. Heavy. Like the air itself was warning me.
I raised my hand to knock.
Then the door opened.
"Good morning, Ms Carter. You are right on time," Dr Lawal said gently.
I forced a polite smile and stepped inside. That was when I saw him.
A stranger sat across from the doctor's desk. Expensively dressed. Calm. Watching me with eyes that did not soften. His presence filled the room in a way that made my skin prickle.
"This is Sebastian," Dr Lawal continued. "He represents Mr Lux."
The name hit me like a slap.
Lux.
I stiffened. "Why is he here?"
Sebastian smiled faintly, professional and practiced. "Please, Ms Carter. Have a seat."
I did not want to sit. I wanted to turn around and walk out. But my legs betrayed me, and I lowered myself into the chair opposite them, my hands clenched tightly in my lap.
Dr Lawal cleared his throat. "Ms Carter, Mr Lux has agreed to intervene in your situation."
My heart began to pound. "Intervene how?"
Sebastian folded his hands. "Mr Lux is prepared to settle all outstanding debts attached to your family name. Including your mother's medical expenses. Past, present, and future."
The room suddenly felt too small.
I stared at him. "Why?"
"Benevolence," he replied smoothly.
I laughed. A sharp, disbelieving sound. "I do not believe in benevolence that wears a suit."
Dr Lawal shifted uncomfortably. "Ms Carter, please listen."
Sebastian continued, unfazed. "This offer was made following a suggestion from your stepfather, Peter."
The name ignited something ugly inside me.
"You mean the same man who abandoned his wife and child and disappeared for years," I snapped. "That Peter."
Sebastian nodded. "Yes."
My hands shook. "So he sells me off now too?"
"Ms Carter," Dr Lawal said quietly, "please calm yourself."
"Calm down," I repeated bitterly. "My stepfather offers me like collateral, and I am supposed to be calm."
Sebastian leaned back. "You are not being forced. This is a choice."
I scoffed. "A choice between what and what exactly?"
He looked at me then. Really looked at me.
"Pay one hundred million dollars in private debt," he said calmly. "Settle five hundred thousand dollars in outstanding hospital bills. Continue financing your mother's chemotherapy. Or decline."
My throat closed.
"You have three days," he added. "After that, the offer expires."
Dr Lawal did not meet my eyes.
Sebastian stood, placed a card on the desk, and slid it toward me. "Think carefully, Ms Carter. This is not charity. It is an agreement."
Then he left.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
I felt something inside me crack.
I slumped back in my chair, my shoulders trembling as tears burned behind my eyes. I pressed my lips together, refusing to let them fall. Crying would not change the numbers. Crying would not save my mother.
Dr Lawal finally spoke. "Ms Carter… realistically, there is no way to raise that amount in three days."
I clenched my jaw. "You think I do not know that?"
The words spilled out of me, raw and uncontrolled. "I did not ask for this life. I did not ask to be born into debt. I did not ask to bury my father and then watch my mother die slowly in a hospital bed. I just wanted to be normal. Just for once."
My voice broke.
"Why do I have to suffer for his mistakes," I whispered. "Why me."
Dr Lawal placed a hand on my shoulder. "You are strong, Amelia."
I did not feel strong.
I felt trapped.
He stood. "You can take some time here before visiting your mother. I have a surgery to attend."
When he left, the room felt empty. Hollow. Like it reflected exactly how I felt inside.
I eventually rose and walked toward my mother's room.
She looked smaller every time I saw her.
Her eyes brightened when she noticed me. "There you are," she said softly. "I was wondering when my busy daughter would come."
I sat beside her, forcing a smile. "You know I would never miss seeing you."
She studied my face. "You look tired."
"I am okay," I lied.
She sighed. "You remind me of your father when you frown like that."
My chest tightened. "I miss him."
"So do I," she said. "There was a time when it was just us. Before everything became so complicated."
I nodded. "Do you remember the evenings he used to come home early and cook dinner even when he was exhausted?"
She smiled faintly. "He always burned the food."
"And then blamed the stove," I added, my lips twitching.
We shared a soft laugh. For a moment, it felt like the world paused. Like I could pretend things were not falling apart.
"You were happy then," she said quietly. "You deserve happiness again, Amelia."
I looked away.
I stayed with her as long as I could, memorizing the sound of her voice, the warmth of her hand in mine. When I finally left the hospital, the sun felt too bright. Too cruel.
By the time I reached home, the folder lay on my table, waiting.
The contract.
I did not read it all at once. I read it slowly. Painfully. Clause after clause, stripping me of autonomy in exchange for survival.
Marriage. Indefinite duration. Purpose clearly stated.
A male heir.
Clause Seven made my stomach churn. My availability. My obligation. My life, placed neatly into someone else's hands.
When I sign
ed my name, my hand did not stop shaking.
The ink dried quickly.
So did my fate.