Chloe stopped under the archway of her new bedroom, the sheer scale of the space stealing the air from her lungs. It wasn’t a room; it was a wing. The ceilings soared. One entire wall was glass, overlooking a manicured garden that stretched into the horizon. The bed was larger than her entire old apartment. A genuine Rothko hung on the wall.

Her hands stayed at her sides, afraid to touch anything.

She ran a hand over the cool marble of the fireplace mantel, her fingers tracing the gray veins in the stone. Alistair Sterling is Izzy’s father, she repeated to herself, a desperate mantra. He’s an elder. The thought was meant to ground her, but it only sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.

Her phone vibrated on an antique vanity. A text from an unknown number.

I'm at the office. Helen will assist you with anything you need.—Alistair

No greeting. No name. Just a statement of fact. As cold and efficient as the man himself. She stared at the signature, a strange flutter in her stomach that she immediately crushed.

Before she could process it, her phone rang. Izzy.

"Chlo! Lifesaver needed! My thesis advisor just called a surprise meeting, but I'm stuck on campus. Can you come get me?"

"I don’t have a car, Izzy," Chloe said, the reminder a dull ache. Abe’s fiancée, Sloane, had "accidentally" backed into her beat—up Ford last week, totaling it. Another small cruelty.

She hadn’t told Izzy the whole story of last night. And she certainly didn’t know Izzy’s "emergency" was a complete fabrication.

"Use my dad’s car, silly!" Izzy said. "The garage is full of them. The keys are in a bowl by the entrance. Helen knows."

Ten minutes later, Helen Price, with an unnervingly serene smile, led Chloe to a door that opened into a high—end car dealership. A row of gleaming machines sat under spotlights. A Ferrari. A Lamborghini. A classic Porsche. Nausea surged. Her eyes scanned the lineup and landed on the most subdued option: a sleek, black Bentley. It still felt like a spaceship.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she was enveloped in rich leather and profound silence. The engine started with a low, confident purr, a world away from the rattling cough of her old Ford. She gripped the smooth, cool steering wheel. She hated the easy seduction of this wealth, the way it whispered that everything would be okay. But the solid, powerful machine around her felt safe.

This is what Abe owes me, she thought, a bitter justification. This and more.

She pulled up in front of Izzy’s department building, the Bentley’s quiet elegance drawing stares. Izzy burst out of the doors, throwing her arms around Chloe in a hug before she could even get out. Then, with a theatrical flourish, Izzy dropped into a low curtsy on the sidewalk.

"Mommy, your royal chariot awaits!"

A few nearby students stopped, their expressions a mixture of shock and undisguised gossip.

"Izzy!" Chloe hissed, her face burning.

Izzy hopped into the passenger seat. "What’s the big deal? You are Mrs. Sterling. My new, legally certified mommy!"

She leaned over, her expression turning conspiratorial. "Besides, Dad laid down the law this morning. My future credit card limit is directly proportional to your daily happiness index. So, Mommy, are you happy today?"

Chloe stared at her. This wasn't a prank. It was a strategy. Alistair had made Chloe the gatekeeper to Izzy’s lifestyle.

"So," Izzy said, eyes sparkling with mischief, "for the sake of future Chanel and Hermès, you need to absolutely fleece my father. Make him spoil you rotten."

Izzy kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. She vividly remembered a disastrous night two years ago when an entitled frat boy had relentlessly harassed her at a club. Chloe had fiercely intervened, taking a hard shove into a table to protect her. Within a week, that frat boy was mysteriously expelled, and his family’s logistics company lost all their contracts with Sterling Enterprises, forcing them to relocate to another state in disgrace. Her dad had been terrifyingly furious at Izzy, freezing her accounts and forcing her to do a month of hard community service for "endangering an innocent bystander." But the day her punishment ended, he had wired fifty thousand dollars into her account with a single directive: "Take your friend shopping." When he had casually mentioned needing a marriage of convenience with "someone familiar and trustworthy" to stabilize his corporate image, Izzy had immediately connected the dots. Her dad wasn't just making a random choice; he had been silently watching and protecting Chloe for years.

A laugh escaped Chloe, genuine this time. It was absurd, manipulative, and somehow, exactly what she needed. The weight in her chest lightened. Maybe she could play this game.

She navigated the expensive car through campus, terrified of scratching it. Could she ever get used to this?

As she approached the main gate, a figure stepped out from between two parked cars, directly into their path.

Chloe’s heart stopped.

Abe Hays. His face was a thundercloud, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, possessive glint that made the hair on her arms stand up.

Her hands tightened on the wheel.

"Oh, great," Izzy muttered. "What a foul omen."

Chloe’s first instinct was to slam the car into reverse, but it was too late. He was already walking towards her window.

"So, spill. Where did you actually stay last night?"

Izzy stirred her latte with too much vigor. They’d shaken Abe by simply driving away, his shocked face receding in the rearview mirror. Now, in a campus coffee shop booth, the interrogation began.

"Your father’s estate," Chloe said, her voice low. She focused on unwrapping a sugar packet.

"Oh? And he didn’t have you thrown out?" Izzy’s eyes were wide with fake surprise. "My dad is more rigid than a church pew. He doesn’t even let me into his bedroom."

Chloe knew it was an act, but it was a good one.

Izzy leaned forward suddenly, her eyes narrowing. "What’s that? Did a mosquito get you?"

She pointed to a spot just above the collar of Chloe’s turtleneck.

Chloe’s hand flew to her neck. Her face erupted in a hot, uncontrollable blush. A faint, reddish—purple mark, exactly where Alistair’s mouth had been.

Izzy’s eyes lit up. "Oh. My. God," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and glee. "You and my dad… you actually slept together?"

The shame was a physical weight. Chloe managed a tiny, miserable nod, wishing the floor would swallow her.

Instead of disgust, Izzy slammed her hand on the table, rattling the cups. "Yes! Chloe, you legend! I knew you could do it!"

"We were both drunk," Chloe mumbled.

"Don’t explain! Explanations are just excuses in fancy clothes!" Izzy’s grin was wide and triumphant. "That, my friend, is your badge of honor. A medal for conquering Mount Sterling!"

As if on cue, Izzy’s phone buzzed. The screen read: Dad.

Izzy’s eyes gleamed. She answered and hit the speakerphone button. Alistair’s deep, calm voice filled the small space.

"Izzy, are you with Chloe?"

"Yup!" Izzy chirped. "I was just about to take my poor, new mommy to pick out a proper wedding ring! You can’t seriously expect her to walk around with a naked finger, can you? It’s bad for your brand."

A beat of silence. Chloe held her breath.

"My card is with my assistant," Alistair said, his voice flat. "There is no limit."

Izzy winked at Chloe, a look of pure victory, before ending the call.

"See?" she said, leaning back. "Conquer him, and you conquer the world."

Chloe stared at her friend. The knot of guilt in her stomach loosened. Maybe this wasn’t a disaster. Maybe it was an opportunity. Alistair, for all his coldness, was responsible. He was generous. He was a million miles from Abe’s smooth words and empty promises. For the first time since waking up, she felt a flicker of something other than dread.

"Come on!" Izzy was already sliding out of the booth. "Fifth Avenue awaits! We’re hitting Cartier, Tiffany’s, Harry Winston… all of them!"

She grabbed Chloe’s hand and pulled her to her feet. "And we are getting the biggest, most ridiculously expensive one we can find," she whispered as they headed for the door. "It’s the only way to make my dad feel like he got a good deal."

A ring. A symbol of a marriage she’d stumbled into. It was insane. But as Izzy dragged her towards the Bentley, Chloe thought maybe a little insanity was exactly what she needed.