Page 3 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

The elevator descended in tense silence until Aria’s phone vibrated with a text:

‘FINAL NOTICE: Payment must be received by 5:00 p.m. today to prevent eviction proceedings.’

Her stomach plummeted.

Without warning, the elevator jolted, grinding to a sudden halt between floors. The lights flickered once before dying, leaving only the dim glow of emergency backup LEDs.

“Perfect,” Aria whispered.

The stranger pressed the emergency call button. “Security.”

Static crackled through the speaker before a voice promised immediate assistance.

Aria leaned her head against the cool steel wall and closed her eyes. She could survive a stalled elevator. She had survived far worse.

Her phone rang again. This time, it was the hospital’s main line.

She answered immediately. “Hello?”

“Aria, it’s Dr. Patel.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Is my mother okay?”

“She’s stable, but her latest panel isn’t encouraging. I strongly advise against delaying the surgery.”

Aria turned toward the corner, lowering her voice. “I’m working on the deposit.”

“Friday is the absolute limit, Aria.”

“I understand.” Her voice sounded steadier than her pounding heart implied.

“Your mother asked me not to pressure you. She feels the financial burden is becoming too much.”

Aria swallowed the ache in her throat. “Please don’t tell her we spoke. And don’t let her cancel anything. I’ll find the money.”

She hung up before her voice could finally break.

For several seconds, the only sound in the small space was the hum of the emergency light.

“How much?” The stranger asked.

Aria looked up, startled. “Excuse me?”

“What do you need by Friday?”

Heat rushed to her face. “Were you eavesdropping on my call?”

“You were standing four feet away.”

“That doesn’t make it your business.”

His eyes finally met hers. They were an unsettling shade of gray—cool, assessing, and completely devoid of apology.

“No,” he said smoothly. “It doesn’t.”

Aria turned away. Arrogant, wealthy, and rude—a predictable combination. At least he acknowledged it. Men who wore watches worth more than her annual rent usually believed privacy was just another commodity to buy.

The elevator jolted back to life, resuming its smooth descent. When the doors opened into the busy lobby, Aria walked out quickly, beelining for the exit. Anything to get away from this man. Heavy rain hammered against the glass facade, and she had left her umbrella upstairs in her mother’s room.