Maya's POV
I didn't sleep.
How could I? Half a million dollars sat in my bank account—money from a man with golden eyes who'd bought two weeks of my life for purposes he refused to explain.
At 3 AM, I gave up on sleep and opened my laptop.
The lawyer's website glowed on my screen. Davis & Martinez, Attorneys at Law. The firm Ivy had recommended—expensive but good.
I clicked Schedule Consultation and filled out the form, my hands shaking.
Nature of case: Medical malpractice defense, defamation, wrongful termination
Budget: $15,000 retainer available immediately
I hit submit before I could second-guess myself.
For the first time in two weeks, I had hope. Real, tangible hope backed by actual money.
The confirmation email arrived instantly: Thank you for contacting Davis & Martinez. We'll call you within 24 hours to schedule your consultation.
I closed the laptop and allowed myself one moment of victory.
Richard thought he'd won. Thought he'd destroyed me so completely I'd never recover.
He had no idea what was coming.
The call came at 8 AM.
Dr. Reeves? This is Jennifer Martinez. I reviewed your case information. Her voice was crisp, professional. I'd like to meet today if possible. Your board hearing is in four days—we need to move fast.
Yes. Absolutely. When?
Noon. My office. She paused. I should mention—our retainer for a case like this is fifteen thousand. Can you manage that?
I can. The words felt surreal. Two weeks ago, I couldn't afford ramen. Now I was casually agreeing to fifteen-thousand-dollar legal fees. I'll be there.
I hung up and immediately transferred the money, watching my balance drop from $500,847 to $485,847.
Still more money than I'd ever had in my life.
Still more than enough to fight back.
I was getting dressed when my phone rang again. Ivy.
Guilt twisted my stomach. I'd been avoiding her, drowning in my own misery. She deserved better.
Maya! Finally! I've been trying to reach you for days! Her voice was frantic with worry. Are you okay? Where have you been?
I'm fine. Sorry, I've just been... dealing with things.
Dealing with what? The hearing is in four days! Have you found a lawyer? Do you need money? I can
I found a lawyer. I cut her off gently. A good one. I'm meeting her today.
Silence. Then: How? Maya, I know your financial situation. How did you afford—
I got a consulting job. The lie came smoothly, practiced. Short-term medical consulting for a private client. It pays really well.
What kind of consulting?
I can't discuss details, confidentiality agreement. But it's legitimate, legal, and it's giving me enough money to hire proper legal representation.
More silence. Ivy's nurse instincts were screaming that something was off—I could hear it in the pause.
Maya, if you're in trouble
I'm not. I promise. Another lie. I'm actually doing better than I have in weeks. I'll tell you everything after the hearing, okay? I just need to focus on clearing my name right now.
Okay. She didn't sound convinced. But you call me if you need anything. Day or night. I mean it.
I know. Thank you for being the only person who believed in me.
Always. Her voice softened. Go kick Richard's ass in that hearing. Show him he messed with the wrong doctor.
We hung up, and the guilt sat heavy in my chest.
Ivy was my only real friend. And I'd just lied straight to her face.
But what was I supposed to say? I sold two weeks of my life to a mysterious man who paid me a million dollars to be his fake girlfriend at a dangerous business summit he won't explain?
She'd think I'd lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
Jennifer Martinez was exactly what I needed, sharp, efficient, and utterly ruthless.
She sat across from me in her sleek office, reviewing the evidence Richard had planted with a critical eye.
This is good forgery work, she admitted. Your signature, your handwriting, your login credentials. He was thorough.
Can you prove it's fake?
Maybe. If we can access the original hospital records before he altered them. She made notes on her legal pad. Your friend Ivy, the nurse who's been investigating—can she get us those originals?
She's trying.
Tell her to try harder. We have four days. Jennifer's dark eyes met mine. I'll be honest, Maya. Without the original records, this is going to be difficult. Richard Castellan has reputation, family money, and carefully constructed evidence. You have your word against his.
So I'm going to lose.
Not necessarily. She leaned forward. Even if we can't prove the records were altered, we can create reasonable doubt. Question the timeline. Highlight Richard's motive for framing you. Make the board wonder why a respected surgeon would go to such elaborate lengths unless he was hiding something.
Hope flickered. You think that'll work?
I think it gives us a fighting chance. Which is more than you had yesterday. She closed the file. I'm going to need you available for prep sessions over the next three days. We'll go over your testimony, anticipate Richard's accusations, prepare your responses
I can't. The words tumbled out. I'm leaving town tomorrow for a work commitment. I won't be back until after the hearing.
Jennifer's expression hardened. You're leaving? Four days before the most important hearing of your life?
It's complicated
Uncomplicate it. Cancel whatever this is. Your entire career is on the line.
I can't cancel. I signed a contract.
So did I. A contract that says I represent you at this hearing. I can't do that effectively if you're not here to prepare. She stood. Maya, I don't know what's going on, but if you're not willing to fight for your career, I can't help you.
Panic clawed at my throat. I needed her. Needed her sharp mind and ruthless strategy.
But I'd signed Damon's contract. Taken his money. Agreed to two weeks starting tomorrow.
The hearing is in four days, I said desperately. I'll be back in time. I promise.
Being physically present isn't enough. You need to be prepared, confident, ready to face Richard's accusations without falling apart. Jennifer crossed her arms. Whatever this 'work commitment' is, it's not worth losing everything for.
But it was worth a million dollars. Worth the chance to rebuild. Worth not being Richard's victim anymore.
I have to go, I said quietly. But I'll be at that hearing. And I'll be ready. Just... trust me.
Jennifer studied me for a long moment. I hope whatever you're doing is worth it, Dr. Reeves. Because if you show up unprepared and lose your medical license, no amount of money will give you back what Richard took.
She was right. And I had no way to explain that the money wasn't just for lawyers—it was for survival. For escape. For the chance to start over if the hearing went badly.
I left her office with my retainer paid and my conscience screaming.
That night, I did what Damon had warned me not to do.
I researched him.
Sitting in my dark apartment, laptop glowing, I typed his name into every search engine I could find.
Damon Blackridge
The results were eerily clean. Too clean.
Professional photos from business conferences. Articles about his companies' success. Charitable donations. Real estate acquisitions.
But nothing personal. No social media. No interviews. No candid photos. No dating history. No family information.
It was like looking at a ghost—someone had carefully scrubbed away anything real, leaving only a polished business facade.
I dug deeper, searching for the Summit Grounds where we were supposedly going.
Nothing.
No business registrations. No event permits. No address. No website.
The place didn't officially exist.
I tried searching for Damon's associate, Kieran. Just a first name, but maybe something would come up.
Kieran + Blackridge Enterprises + Security
One result. A very old news article from seven years ago about a security consultant named Kieran Wolfe who'd been involved in some kind of territorial dispute in Northern territories.
The article was vague, heavily redacted, and mentioned local authorities declining to comment on the nature of the dispute.
Territorial dispute. The same language Kieran had used when describing the people I'd meet.
What kind of business had territorial disputes?
My phone rang, making me jump so hard I knocked over my water glass.
Unknown number.
I answered with my heart pounding. Hello?
You're researching me. Damon's voice was cold. Disappointed. I specifically told you not to.
Ice flooded my veins. How did you
I have alerts set up. The moment my name gets searched from certain IP addresses, I know. A pause. Delete your search history. Now.
You're tracking me? That's
That's part of the contract you signed. Page nine, section seven: electronic monitoring for security purposes. His voice hardened. You agreed to this, Maya. Don't act surprised.
I didn't agree to be spied on!
You agreed to do exactly what I told you. And I told you not to research me. A dangerous edge entered his tone. There are consequences for breaking contract terms. Do you want to find out what they are?
Fear spiked through my anger. Are you threatening me?
I'm reminding you of what you agreed to. Delete. The. Searches.
I stared at my laptop screen, at the sparse results about a man who barely existed online.
Why? I demanded. What are you hiding? What am I really walking into tomorrow?
Questions you should have asked before signing. Too late now. His voice softened slightly. Maya, I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to protect you. The people you're about to meet... if they know you've been researching them, researching me, asking questions—it puts you in danger.
Danger from what?!
From the truth you're not ready to handle. A pause. My associate arrives at nine AM. Listen to everything he tells you. Follow his instructions exactly. Your life may depend on it.
You keep saying that
Because it's true. Delete the searches, get some sleep, and trust that I know what I'm doing.
I don't trust you.
Smart. But you're going to have to fake it pretty convincingly starting tomorrow. He paused. One more thing. The lawyer you hired, Jennifer Martinez. Good choice. She's one of the best.
My blood turned to ice. How do you know about
I know everything about you, Maya. Where you go. Who you talk to. How you spend the money I gave you. That's not surveillance, that's protection. The moment you signed my contract, you became my responsibility. Get used to it.
The line went dead.
I sat in the darkness, staring at my phone, my hands shaking.
What had I gotten myself into?
Damon Blackridge wasn't just a wealthy businessman with a mysterious summit. He was something else. Something dangerous.
And I'd signed a contract binding myself to him for two weeks.
I deleted my search history with trembling fingers, watching every query disappear.
Then I closed my laptop and sat in the dark, listening to my apartment settle around me.
Tomorrow, Kieran would arrive. Tomorrow, my education would begin.
Tomorrow, I'd start down a path I couldn't see the end of.
And somewhere in the night, Damon Blackridge was watching, monitoring, controlling everything.
I'd sold two weeks of my life.
I just hoped the price wasn't higher than I could afford to pay.