The Billionaire's Price for My Salvation

of confusion. A business proposal? What kind

rista. I deliver coffee. What kind of pro

your degree from Parsons, your student loan debt of one hundred and eighty-two thousand dollars, the two pending foreclosures on yo

er life, laid bare every one of her failures and fears on his polished desk. The humiliation w

she stammered, her voice trembling

explaining the laws of physics. "Information is the most valua

You are in an untenable position. You ar

" she whispered

stopped perfectly, just within her reach. Her name was em

a business plan, but a contract. The language was de

ge Agre

of one

all outstanding Ac

million dollars upon succe

f Non-Dis

f Public

rhythm against her ribs. Her vision swam. This couldn't be real. It was a

?" The words sounded ins

s reasons that do not concern you. You require financial salvation. You are suitable. You are unattached, educated, and p

g about marriage, about a li

h escaped her lips. "This

on. "Insanity is continuing on a path that leads to certain r

away as if it were contaminated. "No.

ime for minimum wage. You sell your dignity with every coffee you deliver. You sell your

ameful corner of her heart-the part of her that felt like a failure, the p

ot with shame and anger. "Why me? Out of

t was there and gone in an instant. "As I said," he replied, his voice once aga