Mr. Billionaire Wants Me Back

Chapter One – Flora's POV

I stood in front of the rundown apartment complex, staring up at the cracks in the concrete as I fumbled for my keys. The building looked worse than it had yesterday if that was even possible-like it might collapse under the weight of its own neglect. The heavy humidity clung to my skin like guilt, pressing in from all sides. Still, I didn't move. Not yet.

My thoughts were spiraling, tangled in the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. Everything was slipping through my fingers-every plan, every hope, every carefully laid-out version of the future. The weight of it all settled in my chest like a brick I couldn't dislodge.

I hadn't seen Lucas in months, not since that awkward encounter at my college reunion. He'd been just as infuriating then as he was now-smug, unreadable, and far too used to getting his way. We'd exchanged a few words, enough to stir up memories and frustrations I thought I'd buried.

And now here I was, standing on a cracked sidewalk with a ring in my pocket and a deal hanging over my head.

The key finally turned in the lock with a reluctant click, and I pushed the door open, stepping into the dim warmth of the apartment. The air smelled faintly of chamomile tea and old wood-a scent I'd come to associate with my grandmother. She was curled up in her favorite chair near the window, a crocheted blanket draped across her thin legs. Her face lit up when she saw me, but even that small smile couldn't hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Flora, you're home early," she said softly. Her voice was just a whisper now, each syllable weighted with effort.

I returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Had to take care of some things."

She didn't ask what. She hadn't in a while. Lately, she'd been too tired to press for answers, but I could feel her eyes on me-always watching, always knowing when I was holding something back. And I was. I always was.

I set my bag down and walked over to her, crouching beside the chair. I took her hand in mine, the skin paper-thin and cold, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "How are you feeling today?" I asked gently, already bracing for the answer.

She gave a weak shrug. "I'm fine, dear. Just tired."

She was always tired. The doctors had said the cancer was progressing faster than expected, that the basic treatments weren't enough anymore. We needed specialists. We needed more time. We needed money.

I looked around the room, taking in the chipped paint, the sagging ceiling, and the heater that rattled more than it warmed. This wasn't the life we'd imagined. It wasn't the life she deserved. And I'd promised her better. I'd promised to take care of her.

Instead, I was considering marrying a man I barely trusted in exchange for a bank account and a bargaining chip.

Lucas had called me again last night, his voice infuriatingly calm as he repeated his offer like it was the most logical thing in the world. Two years. That was the deal. I'd wear his ring, pretend to be his wife, and he'd cover all of Grandma's medical expenses.

Just business, he'd said. A simple arrangement.

Simple. Right.

I had called him back later that evening. Not to accept, not yet. But I needed answers. I needed to know why me-why someone like Lucas, who could have anyone, would go through the trouble of finding me, offering me something like this. His answer had been vague. "You're the only one who makes sense."

Whatever that meant.

I looked down at the ring he'd given me to wear "for appearances." It was simple but beautiful-a thin platinum band with a single diamond that shimmered under the living room lamp. It didn't feel real. None of this did.

Two years, I told myself again. Just two years. It wasn't love. It wasn't forever. It was survival.

Grandma's voice broke through my thoughts. "Flora," she said, her tone soft but laced with concern. "You've been so distracted lately. What's going on?"

I hesitated. A lie formed instantly-something light and meaningless-but it felt wrong to use it. She deserved at least a piece of the truth.

"Nothing, Grandma," I said, forcing a smile. "Just... figuring things out."

Her tired eyes narrowed. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself too, not just me."

Her words hit harder than I expected. I'd been so wrapped up in making sure she was okay that I hadn't stopped to ask if I was. Most days I felt like a ghost-drifting from task to task, just barely tethered to my own body.

"I promise," I whispered.

She reached out and gently squeezed my hand. It took all her strength.

After I helped her to bed, I lingered in the kitchen with the light off, staring out the window into the dark. I didn't know what I was looking for-maybe a sign, maybe a reason to say no to Lucas.

But instead, I found myself pulling out my phone.

I tapped his name. It rang twice.

"You've decided," he said, not a question, but a statement.

I closed my eyes. "I'll do it."

He exhaled like he'd known all along. "Good. I'll send someone over tomorrow with the paperwork. And a car. You'll need to move into the penthouse by the end of the week."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "Penthouse?"

"Yes," he said, already sounding distracted. "We have to make it believable, Flora. If people think it's a real marriage, it'll be easier to manage appearances. And my father won't dig too deep."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream. But the sound of Grandma's coughing from the bedroom silenced every protest in my throat.

"Fine," I said.

We hung up without saying goodbye.

---

The next day moved quickly. Men in suits delivered papers, cars, and instructions. A woman named Beatrice came to measure me for "appearance wardrobes." She was sharp, efficient, and said almost nothing except "Turn," "Hold still," and "You'll need something more formal for the gala next week."

Apparently, I was also expected to attend a black-tie event next Friday, as Lucas's fiancée. The ink on the contract wouldn't even be dry yet.

By evening, the entire apartment felt different. Like a countdown had started. I packed slowly, trying not to make it feel permanent. Just two years, I reminded myself.

Grandma watched from her chair, eyes curious but quiet. I hadn't told her the full truth, not yet. Only that I had taken a new job and would be traveling often. That the money would be better. That she'd get the care she needed.

She smiled like she believed me.

---

The car Lucas sent was sleek and dark, the kind of luxury I had only ever seen on TV. The driver didn't say much-just opened the door and handed me a phone with a message from Lucas: "Welcome to your new life."

The penthouse was on the top floor of a glass building downtown. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Marble floors. Everything is pristine and quiet. It didn't feel like a home. It felt like a showroom.

Lucas was already there, leaning against the kitchen island, sipping whiskey.

"Everything okay with your grandmother?" he asked, not bothering with small talk.

"She's fine," I said. "Confused. But fine."

He nodded. "Good. There's something you should know."

I tensed. "What now?"

He set down his glass. "I didn't choose you just because of your situation. Or because you'd agree."

I stared at him. "Then why?"

He looked at me for a long moment, as if debating whether to tell me the truth. Then: "Because my father had you investigated."

"What?" I stepped back. "Why?"

Lucas's expression darkened. "Because he thought you were a threat. To me. To the company. I don't know what triggered it, but your name came up in a report last year. Your mother's history, your scholarship ties-he flagged it. Thought there was something off. I only found out because I hacked into his private files."

My heart pounded. "That makes no sense."

Lucas walked toward me slowly. "It does if you know my father. He's paranoid. Controlling. Obsessed with eliminating any risk to his image."

My throat was dry. "So what does that have to do with this marriage?"

He held my gaze. "This deal doesn't just get him off my back-it protects you. If he thinks you're with me, he won't touch you."

I sank onto the couch, reeling.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I whispered.

"Because I needed you to say yes on your own," he said. "Not out of fear."

The silence stretched between us.

I looked down at the ring, then back at him.

Maybe this wasn't just about saving Grandma anymore.

Maybe it never was.