Rain slicked the streets as I swerved around a corner, hot soup containers sloshing in the bag. My bike skidded—then slammed into something solid. I went down hard, helmet cracking against the curb.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," a voice drawled. I looked up, heart sinking. Designer coat. Cold gray eyes. Saul Kensington, live and infuriatingly perfect.

"I’m so sorry! Let me—" I scrambled up, wincing, but he was already inspecting my dented bike like it offended him.

"This thing’s barely roadworthy."

"It’s all I’ve got." My voice trembled. Daniel’s grant deadline loomed. Five thousand dollars could cover it. An idea sparked—reckless, dangerous. "But… I’ll sell it. To you. For five thousand."

He raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Desperate much? Fine. Consider it charity."

As the transfer pinged on my phone, I felt sick. He thought I was a gold digger. Good. Maybe that meant he’d never look twice again.

Two weeks later, his lawyer called: "Mr. Kensington’s will requires Mr. Saul to marry the daughter of his father’s first love… Miss Chen, that would be you."

Now, standing outside the Kensington estate, I gripped my bag. Run—or walk in and face the man who bought my bike… and might just want to buy my life next?