Chapter 6

~Aurelia's POV

Two days after I signed the document, I was staring at the gates that took forever to open, sitting in the back of the car Rhys sent, while watching the driveway stretch out longer than some streets I'd lived on, and by the time we reached the actual house, I'd already run out of words for how ridiculous it all was.

He owns a fountain. An actual fountain, taller than my old apartment building. I kissed my teeth, shaking my head.

"Nothing says humble beginnings like your own water feature," I muttered, mostly to myself, because who else was going to hear me?

When we reached the building, a woman was already at the door before I even got both feet out of the car.

She looked to be in her 50s, wearing a warm smile, and holding a clipboard. She introduced herself as Marta before walking me through the house like she was reading off a menu.

There was a library. Two libraries, actually, like one wasn't already excessive. A home theater. A wine cellar that probably cost more than every job I'd ever worked combined.

"And this will be your room, Mrs. Calloway," she said, pushing open a door to a space bigger than my entire old apartment, bed included.

"Please don't call me that." I rushed out, waving both hands in front of her. "Aurelia's fine."

She smiled like she hadn't heard a word of what I just said and moved straight into explaining the closet system, which apparently needed its own explanation, which told me everything about how out of my depth I currently was.

An hour later, when I'm done settling down, I found Rhys downstairs, buried in some folder, barely glancing up when I walked in.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Thrilled." I crossed my arms. "I've always dreamed of living somewhere with more bathrooms than I have friends."

That got his eyes up at least, one brow lifting like he couldn't decide whether to be amused or annoyed by me. "There are house rules while you're here."

"Of course there are." I rolled my eyes, and I heard him exhale loudly.

"There would be no public displays that contradict the image we're presenting. No arguments in front of staff or guests. You attend events when required, and you smile like you mean it." He set the folder down, finally looking at me properly with a chilling gaze and a clipped tone. "This is a business arrangement. You'd better act like it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to be grateful?" I gestured around the room, at the chandelier, at the garden outside, bigger than most public parks. "You bought yourself a wife for a year, Calloway. Forgive me if I don't curtsy every time you walk in."

"I didn't buy you." He gritted, anger returning to his eyes.

I scoffed, "Could've fooled me."

A look flashed across his face, quick and gone before I could name it, and for a second I thought he might actually snap back instead of that maddening calm he always wore like a second suit, but to my surprise, he didn't.

"Dinner's at seven," he said instead. "Don't be late."

"Or what, you'll dock my pay too?" I wasn't planning on sticking around for what he had to say next, so I turned and left before he could see how much that comment actually cost me on the way out.

By the second day of living in this expensive hell, the staff already had their whispered version of my story down pat.

I caught two of them near the kitchen, voices dropping the second they spotted me, but they weren't fast enough.

"...like something out of a movie, riches to rags and now riches again," one gushed out, nudging her colleague.

"A Cinderella who threw herself at a billionaire in front of every camera in the city—"

I cleared my throat, startling them as they bowed low in faux remorse, their heads almost touching their feet.

I kept walking, chin up, pretending I hadn't heard a thing, even though the words trailed after me up the stairs the whole way.

After years of whispers like that, I still hadn't figured out how to make them stop stinging.

That night, I made the mistake of scrolling through the internet.

The gala video was back, along with some fresh caption slapped on top, something about karma finally visiting the Hart family.

I scrolled through maybe fifteen comments before I forced myself to stop, my jaw clenched, with a tight throat, bracing myself for whatever fresh humiliation might be waiting from Rhys next.

Maybe some remark about how I'd embarrassed him, or a reminder of exactly what kind of scandal he'd signed up for.

But nothing came.

Instead, my phone buzzed with a text from the hospital, and my stomach dropped before I even opened it as usual.

~Mercy General Cardiac Unit: This is to confirm the transfer of patient Jace Hart to our specialized pediatric cardiac program, effective immediately. Full care team assigned.

I blinked at my phone's screen in stunned silence, rereading it like three extra times.

Had Jace been moved? Not just moved, moved to the best cardiac program in the country, the exact place I'd cried over not being able to afford days ago.

I hadn't asked for this. I hadn't even mentioned it out loud, yet he did it.

I sat there staring at the screen until it dimmed, turning the whole thing over, waiting for my door to slam open with Rhys making sure I knew what I owed him for doing this.

It still never came. Maybe he isn't all that bad, I thought, immediately hating myself a little for thinking it.

Or maybe, he's just keeping his side of the agreement.