In March, a blanket of ethereal white willow catkins drifted over the city of New York. The entire metropolis was draped in these delicate wisps, a fleeting and beautiful sight. Alexander Hill, his shoulders lightly dusted with the white fluff, stepped into the lobby of the Grandview Hotel. When his gaze landed on the face of the person waiting inside a reserved room, his sharp eyes darkened slightly.
"You?" he said, his voice a low growl of disbelief.
"Mr. Hill." Charlotte Brent took a quiet breath, her eyes softening as they settled on a stray willow catkin clinging to his shoulder. Unconsciously, a gentle smile curved her lips.
To Alexander, that smile was not a sign of warmth, but of sycophancy. A flicker of disdain flashed in his eyes, and his brow furrowed in annoyance. "What now? Weren’t months of pestering enough? You even tracked me down here—I’m starting to question your motives."
He glanced at his assistant, a subtle signal for him to act. The assistant stepped forward, flipping open the documents in front of Charlotte and presenting them to Alexander. The records clearly stated that this woman was the only viable bone marrow donor match for Presley Harper. In other words, she alone could save the life of the woman he loved.
Alexander closed his eyes briefly, as if to compose himself. When he reopened them, his voice was icy. "Name your price."
Charlotte studied him calmly, her faint smile unwavering. "Does that mean I can ask for anything?"
Alexander didn't respond, his silence a wall of contempt. After a pause, when it became clear he wouldn't argue, she spoke again, her voice soft but resolute. "I want you to marry me."
Her words were like a bomb, shattering the tense silence and igniting the air between them. Alexander's dark eyes turned glacial, the last vestige of warmth freezing over. The woman before him was clad in plain black, her frame frail, her complexion sallow. If not for the "physician" listed in her occupation, she could easily be mistaken for someone destitute. And this woman—this nobody—dared to demand he marry her?
Alexander let out a cold, humorless laugh. "I knew someone like you would never be satisfied. Fine, ten million!"
Charlotte remained silent.
"Fifty million—enough to last you half a lifetime."
"Still not enough? Eighty million!" Alexander kept raising the stakes, but Charlotte repeated the same words.
"Marry me..."
Her stubbornness ignited his fury. In a flash, he stood up, strode past the coffee table, and seized her shoulders with a brutal, vice-like grip, his teeth clenched in warning. "Even the greediest know when to stop! I’ll only ever marry Presley—who the hell do you think you are?"
His anger made his grip a punishing one, as if he wanted to wrench her shoulders from their sockets. Charlotte bit back the pain, her voice defiant. "You promised you’d marry me!"
Alexander's fingers stilled. "Don’t make up lies. When have I ever made promises to a woman like you?" As he spoke, his gaze raked over her, his disgust undisguised.
No matter how hard Charlotte tried to stay strong, her smile slowly faded, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Yet the determination in her gaze never wavered. Suddenly, Alexander found the whole exchange pointless and released her. "If that’s how it is, there’s nothing left to say. I refuse to believe you’re the only match in all of New York!"
The moment he stood up, the phone rang—it was the hospital calling. Alexander answered swiftly, accidentally hitting the speakerphone in his haste. The nurse on the other end screamed in panic, "Sir, it's bad! The hospital just issued a critical condition notice for Miss Harper!"
There was no time to waste. Alexander hurled his phone to the ground, then turned and roughly seized Charlotte by the throat. "One last time—what do you want?" His voice was a low growl, eyes burning with desperation. "Change your demand now, and there might still be time!"
Charlotte met his gaze calmly, a fleeting trace of something like longing passing through her eyes. After a brief pause, she clenched her jaw and spat out what she believed to be the cruellest words: "Take me to get married right now. Otherwise, Presley won't make it."
