2

The sun glared through the hospital window like it had a vendetta. I sat beside my father’s bed, staring at his frail, immobile form. The beep of the monitors filled the silence, a monotonous soundtrack to my life falling apart. His hand was limp in mine, the once-strong grip of a man who used to lift me onto his shoulders now reduced to nothing.

“Dad,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the machines. “What would you do if you were me?”

He didn’t answer, of course. He couldn’t. The ventilator did all the talking now. I pressed my lips together, my throat tightening with every breath he didn’t take on his own. The weight of it all—the debts, Livia, the Vanderbilt proposal—crushed me.

“You wouldn’t let her do this to me, would you?” I asked, my voice cracking. “You’d tell her to back off, to leave me alone.”

I laughed bitterly. Who was I kidding? Livia always got what she wanted. And Dad had never been good at stopping her, even before the hospital bed swallowed him whole.

Tears filled my eyes as I tried to keep it together. I don’t want to think about how unfair it all is, but it is. We were good my father and I. Then suddenly this violent illness came, eating him up slowly, forcing me to go on by myself. It was hard enough losing my mom at a young age. But now this, sold to a marriage contract.

Aunt Livia’s heels clicked against the cold marble floor as she entered the room, her presence sharp and invasive, like a blade slicing through what little peace I’d managed to find.

“Eliana,” she said, her voice smooth as silk but laced with steel. “I trust you’ve had enough time to think.”

I didn’t look at her. “You don’t trust anything, Aunt Livia. Let’s not pretend.” I hadn’t spoken to her this way before, and I could see her eyebrows go up, but she recovered quickly.

Her lips curled into a cold smile. “Witty today, are we? That won’t pay the bills.” She moved closer, her perfume wafting through the air—sickly sweet, like rotten fruit dressed up in gold. “I need an answer.”

I turned to her, trying to muster the courage to stand firm. “You’re asking me to marry some man I don’t know. That’s insane.”

“No,” she corrected, her tone clipped. “I’m *telling* you to marry Levi Vanderbilt. And you should be grateful. It’s a solution to all your problems.”

“My problems?” My voice rose, sharp and incredulous. “It’s my dad Aunt Livia, your brother. How could you be so cruel.”

“Careful,” she warned, her eyes narrowing. “Your father isn’t in any condition to save you, and you sure as hell can’t save yourself. I’m offering you a way out.”

“A way out of what? Into what?” I stood, the legs of the chair screeching against the floor. “Marrying a man I’ve never met for the Vanderbilt name? Do you hear yourself?”

She stepped closer, unbothered by my outburst. “Don’t be so dramatic. This makes it easier. No messy emotions, no inconvenient attachments. Just a simple marriage contract.”

My finger pads tap nervously on my dads skin. “I searched him online.”

“Now why would you do that?” She asks gleefully.

“There’s rumors, that he’s dead..” I say cautiously. I look up to meet hee gaze and she betrays no emotions.

“You want me to believe you suddenly care about tabloid gossip.” She says pointedly.

It sounds crazy. I know I shouldn’t be indulging online speculations, but I feel so hopeless, I just wanted to find out what type of person he was and the answer I got. “They didn’t seem like just rumors, Aunt Livia.”

She sighs frustrated. “Fine, so what if he is?”

“You knew.” My eyes grow wide. She knew, and she is still forcing me anyways, to marry a dead man.

“But that makes it the perfect arrangement doesn’t it. The name, the fortune, and the power that comes with it.”

My stomach churned. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re out of options,” she shot back, her voice colder than the sterile room around us. “Or have you forgotten the hospital bills stacking up by the hour? The creditors knocking on your doors? I’m not the only one you owe Eliana and I sure am not settling those debts.” Her gaze flicked to my father. “Do you want him to die because you’re too proud to do what needs to be done?”

The words hit like a slap. I glanced at Dad, the weight of his condition dragging me down further. She knew exactly where to press, where it hurt most.

“Don’t you dare use him against me,” I said through gritted teeth, but the tears were already dropping.

She laughed, soft and venomous. “I don’t need to. The situation speaks for itself. Either you marry Levi Vanderbilt, or you lose everything. Including him.”

I hated her in that moment, truly, viscerally hated her. The kind of hate that sits in your chest and festers, poisoning every breath. But there was no escaping the truth of her words. She’d backed me into a corner, and she knew it.

•••

Later that evening, I wandered through the city streets, the Vanderbilt name echoing in my mind. He’d been dead for years, a phantom billionaire everyone whispered about but no one really remembered. Now his name was suddenly my noose, tightening with every step.

I ducked into a small café, the kind of place I used to escape to before life turned into a never-ending storm. The air smelled like burnt coffee and old wood. I sat in the corner, staring at the faded wallpaper, my hands wrapped around a cup of something I couldn’t taste.

“Levi Vanderbilt,” I muttered to myself, testing the name aloud. It sounded ridiculous. Foreign. Like it didn’t belong anywhere near my life. And yet, here I was, teetering on the edge of signing away what little freedom I had left.

Would it be so bad? A marriage in name only. A dead husband who couldn’t demand anything from me. Maybe I could endure it, just long enough to pay off the debts and walk away.

But Livia’s words haunted me. The Vanderbilt name is tied to dangerous secrets. What kind of secrets? And why did she look so smug, like she knew something I didn’t?

•••

The next morning, I was back at the hospital, sitting by my father’s side. His breathing was shallow, his skin pale. I hated seeing him like this, so small and helpless.

“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed, leaning closer. “If I do what Livia wants, maybe I can save you. But what if it costs me everything else?”

He didn’t move, didn’t blink. I reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. “You always told me to fight, no matter what. But this? This feels like surrender.”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

My phone buzzed, breaking the moment. I pulled it out, my stomach twisting when I saw the headline splashed across the screen:

Levi Vanderbilt: Still Watching?

My heart stopped. The article featured a blurry photo of a man who looked eerily like Levi, stepping into a black car.

“No,” I whispered, my pulse quickening. “That’s not possible. He’s supposed to be dead.”

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. If Levi Vanderbilt was alive, what did that mean for Livia’s plan? For me?

And why did I suddenly feel like I was walking into a trap? The screen dimmed, but the headline burned in my mind, a ghost I couldn’t shake.