Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Harper
I stared down at the hospital bill in my hands.
Above those suffocating numbers sat a bright red stamp: PAID IN FULL. The mountain that had been crushing my shoulders for three years just... vanished. What replaced it was a floating, dreamlike numbness and a dull ache in my chest where something hollow had opened up.
A hundred thousand dollars.
That was my price tag. That's what the man—the man who'd starred in all my stupid pink fantasies—thought I was worth.
"Harper Evans," I muttered to the hollow-eyed, puffy-faced woman staring back at me from the hallway window. "You're rich now. You should be celebrating."
But I couldn't smile. Even I wasn't that oblivious. Kirill had zero interest in me. He thought I was just another greedy opportunist, someone who'd only saved Olga to cash in later.
My first love ended before it even began. What the hell made me think those hallway chats and his occasional attention meant he felt the same way?
Looking back, he was only nice to me because I took care of Olga. Beyond that? I was nobody.
I took a deep breath and checked my concealer—I'd slathered on half a bottle of foundation to hide yesterday's bruises—then pushed open the ICU door.
"Hey, kiddo."
I forced my voice to sound bright and strode in like always. "Look what I brought! Not only your favorite blueberry cake, but news good enough to make you jump out of that bed."
Aiden lay there with his oxygen cannula in place, fiddling with that ancient, paint-chipped game controller. His friends had covered it with stickers that were now curled and faded at the edges, but he still treated it like treasure.
Shame those giggling boys hadn't visited in months.
When he heard my voice, his pale face lit up with a weak smile.
"Unless that news involves you finally agreeing to date that bald guy in the next room, I'm not jumping anywhere." He set down the controller and studied me with eyes just like mine. "Harper, you're wearing enough makeup to trick-or-treat."
Kid had annoyingly sharp instincts.
I walked to his bedside, set the cake on the nightstand, pulled up a chair, and handed him the surgery confirmation slip.
"Close enough." I shrugged, hiding the sharp pain in my ribs. "More thrilling than robbing a bank, though. See for yourself."
Aiden grabbed the paper and scanned it, confused.
Two seconds later, his eyes went wide.
"Harper..." His voice shook as his fingers crushed the thin sheet. "What is this? Where'd you get the money?"
When he looked up at me, there was no joy in his eyes. Only horror.
"Did you do something..." His face flushed red, his breathing quickened. "Harper, if you sold yourself for me, I'd rather die in this bed!"
"Hey! Hey! Calm down!" I jumped up to help him breathe, watching the heart monitor spike. My own pulse hammered. "Stop jumping to conclusions! I'd have to actually be sellable first! Look at me—what nightclub would take me?"
"Harper!" Aiden glared.
"Maybe I met some rich, generous guy?" I forced a bitter smile, half-joking.
"Right." Aiden rolled his eyes. "What rich guy wants a weird girl who doesn't even try to look pretty?"
"Thanks for the compliment, dear brother." I flicked his forehead. "Point is, don't worry. Your job is to get better, not interrogate me."
Aiden stared at me for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and sank back against his pillow, eyes glistening.
"As long as you're okay." His voice dropped. "Harper, you're all I've got. If something happened to you, there'd be no point."
My throat tightened. I turned away fast, pretending to arrange things on the table.
"Quit being dramatic." I sniffled. "Just eat your cake."
Right then, the door slammed open with a bang that made both of us jump.
A woman in a neon green fur coat and four-inch stiletto boots blew in like a tornado.
Rihanna. My childhood best friend and professional chaos agent.
"Hey there, Aiden baby!"
She blew him a kiss first. "Looking good! You're actually sitting up and eating!"
"Hey, Rihanna." Aiden nibbled his cake slowly, clearly used to this. "Nice coat. Very radioactive warning sign."
"It's called fashion, you peasant." She whipped off her sunglasses, her heavily lined eyes locking onto me.
"Harper Evans!" Her voice shot up eight octaves. "I called you a million times! You ignored me?"
"Shh—!" I lunged to cover her mouth. "This is a hospital! Want the nurses to throw us out?"
Rihanna swatted my hand away and looked at it with disgust. "Talk! Why didn't you answer? I thought you jumped off a bridge last night because you didn't deliver that stupid card!"
"Card?"
Aiden's ears perked up. He glanced at me frantically signaling Rihanna, then narrowed his eyes at her.
"What card? For whom?"
"Oh my God, she didn't even tell you?" Rihanna discovered new gossip gold, plopping onto the bed and ignoring my dying glares.
"Harper's been crushing on a guy! At that nursing home where she works!"
"Rihanna!" I covered my face in agony.
"Don't interrupt!" She pushed me aside and kept briefing Aiden. "I snuck over to see him once. Total specimen. Six-three, Russian, broad shoulders, narrow waist—straight out of a magazine."
Aiden gaped, then turned to look at me with new, complicated eyes.
My face burned. Rihanna's voice carried like a megaphone. I could practically feel nurses and patients stopping in the hallway.
The whole ICU probably knew by now—some delusional fat girl fantasizing about a male model.
What they didn't know was reality was even more absurd. Kirill wasn't just a model. He was dangerous. Someone like me, invisible even on the street, had no business with someone like him.
I took a breath and cut them off.
"Listen, there's no card. No crush anymore." I stared at my shoes, voice hoarse. "I never delivered it. And I never will."
"Why?" Rihanna pressed.
"Drop it, Rihanna. We're from different worlds. He already... anyway, it's over."
I changed the subject. Couldn't handle this humiliation anymore.
Rihanna opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself.
She sighed and pulled out her phone. Her tone shifted to forced cheer.
"Fine, fine. Big deal." She patted my shoulder. "So what if one Russian guy has no taste? We'll find you another target."
I forced a bitter smile, about to say something to lighten the mood, when my phone buzzed faintly in my bag.
Quiet, but loud in the now-silent room.
"Your busted phone's ringing." Rihanna jutted her chin.
I sniffled and pulled it out absently. I hadn't replaced it in ages. The screen was so shattered I could barely swipe to unlock.
The text was distorted by cracks, but I could still read every word.
"Tonight, 8 PM. Plaza Hotel, top floor restaurant. Dress nice. We need to talk. —Kirill."
I froze. Nearly dropped the phone.
"What?" Rihanna snatched it off the blanket. "Let me see..."
She squinted at the screen.
One second of silence.
Then a shriek that could shatter eardrums.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! This is a date! This is definitely a date!"
"Quiet! Quiet!"
The door flew open. A heavyset head nurse poked her head in, furious. "This is ICU! One more outburst and you're all out!"
"Sorry! Sorry!" Rihanna apologized, then checked her diamond Rolex. "Four-thirty. Hope Emily's still at work... even if she's not, I'm dragging her out of bed. She's the only one who can tame that haystack on your head."
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed my wrist with a grip like iron and hauled me like a sack of potatoes.
"Let's go!"
"Where? I need to stay with Aiden!" I stumbled.
"Stay nothing! What your brother needs is a hot brother-in-law!" She dragged me toward the door, waving back at Aiden. "Bye, Aiden baby!"
"Uh... bye?" Aiden sat there holding half a cupcake, bewildered.
We burst into the hallway.
Finally, I shouted, "Rihanna! Where are you taking me? I haven't even decided if I'm going!"
Rihanna stopped dead and whirled around, eyes blazing.
"Harper Evans, listen up."
She jabbed a finger at the pocket where I kept that card.
"I'm using every trick I've got to rebuild you from head to toe." Her eyes burned with determination. "And you only need to do one thing—"
She paused for effect.
"Tonight, you give him that damn card."