“Jeremy, I’ve got a thing for you.”

Leighton Turner held out a pale pink envelope at the entrance to the university’s main gate. For half a second, the world stopped. Then it didn’t.

Laughter exploded around her.

People surged in, phones up, cameras ready. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else had already started a livestream, shoving the lens right in her face, catching every nervous flutter of her lashes.

Leighton stood dead center of it all—cream blouse, long brown hair spilling over her shoulders, canvas shoes worn down to a faded white. She looked too put-together for this. The kind of girl who would never publicly confess to a campus heartthrob.

Jeremy leaned against his sleek white sports car and took the letter without opening it. His face was calm, almost gentle—but the cold flicker in his eyes when he glanced at the envelope gave him away.

“Leighton?”

The second he said her name, whispers swarmed around them.

“Isn’t she that lit major on scholarship?”

“Yeah, her. She works nights at the grocery store, right?”

“And she’s confessing to Jeremy?”

Leighton’s fingers tightened on the envelope. She wasn’t the one who wrote it. The real admirer was her sister, Jazlyn.

Jazlyn had been born with a fragile heart and a shyness that ran bone-deep. She’d liked Jeremy for two years but never worked up the nerve to speak to him.

That morning, Jazlyn had called her, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Sis, I’m scared.”

“But I really want to know if he likes me back.”

With Jazlyn’s condition, Leighton couldn’t risk upsetting her more. She knew exactly how humiliating this could get, and she knew someone like Jeremy would never look twice at her sister. But Jazlyn’s tears were impossible to ignore.

So Leighton stood there, taking the humiliation for her sister, facing the laughter meant for Jazlyn.

Jeremy squeezed the envelope lightly, smiled a little. “Sorry.”

Leighton met his eyes.

His voice lifted, clear and deliberate. “You’re not my type.”

The crowd hooted. “What type is, Jeremy?”

His smile thinned. “The kind who pretends to be innocent.”

The laughter sharpened, turned mean.

“Ouch.”

“Innocent act? Nailed it.”

“Did she really think Jeremy would go for the pure-and-sweet type?”

Leighton went pale, but she didn’t cry. Didn’t run. She just took back the rejected letter.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, and turned to leave.

A girl in a sundress blocked her path, a string of pearls jingling at her wrist. Leighton recognized her instantly. Nataly Harris—the Harris family’s eldest, a socialite whose reputation owned the whole campus.

Everyone knew she had a thing for Jeremy.

Nataly looked Leighton up and down, smiling lazy and cruel. “Leighton, why the rush?”

“It’s just one failed confession. No need to run, right?”

Leighton said, “Move.”

Nataly arched a brow. “And if I don’t?”

She raised her phone again, camera locked on Leighton’s face. “Heard you’re pretty strapped for cash. If Jeremy turned you down, you gonna try your luck with someone else?”

The laughter that followed cut deeper.

Leighton glared at Nataly. She wasn’t the type to start a fight, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a temper. Before she could fire back, a cool voice sliced through the noise.

“Is everyone at this university this bored?”

The crowd went silent, parting like the Red Sea.

Leighton followed the voice.

A sleek black sports car sat just beyond the steps, a man leaning casually against it. Dark T-shirt. Silver chain. An unlit cigarette spinning between his fingers. His face was all sharp angles and cold eyes, but a faint smirk played on his lips. The kind of presence that made the air around him drop ten degrees.

“Logan Jackson?”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be studying abroad?”

“Isn’t he that infamous heir from the Jackson family?”

“Damn. What’s he doing here?”

Leighton had heard of him. Logan Jackson—notoriously hard to handle, quick-tempered, ruthless when he wanted to be.

Jeremy spotted him and called out, “Logan, what brings you here?”

Logan ignored him. His gaze stayed locked on Leighton, too intense, too focused.

Instinctively, Leighton looked away. She was sure she’d never met this man before.

Logan walked toward her slowly, eyes dropping to the letter in her hand. “You like him?”

Leighton hesitated. “None of your business.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one spoke to Logan Jackson like that.

But Logan only chuckled, low and soft. “Poor taste.”

Jeremy’s expression darkened.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to him. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

The tension thickened.

Leighton had no intention of sticking around. Leaving was the smartest play.

As she turned, Logan called out, “Leighton.”

She froze. How did he know her name?

She glanced back. Logan’s voice dropped, meant only for her. “He’s not worth it.”

Her heart stuttered. Why would he say that?

Her phone rang—Jazlyn.

Leighton answered, and her sister’s tearful voice crackled through the speaker. “Sis…”

“I think I messed up.”

Leighton’s face fell. “Where are you?”

“Near the old science building,” Jazlyn sobbed. “I… I didn’t mean to. They said it’s really expensive and they want me to pay a lot of money.”

Leighton clutched her phone and ran.

Jeremy called after her, “Leighton, aren’t you forgetting your letter?”

She didn’t look back.

Logan bent and picked up the discarded letter. He read the name on the envelope—addressed to Jeremy, signed by Jazlyn.

The irritation in his eyes vanished, replaced by amusement. “So she didn’t write it after all.”

Jeremy frowned. “What?”

Logan didn’t answer. He tucked the letter into his pocket and got back into his car.

The black sports car’s engine roared to life, drowning out every other sound.

By the time Leighton reached the old science building, rain had started to fall.

Jazlyn sat by the curb, pale and tear-streaked. Nearby, several guys in racing suits loomed, their expressions dark.

A personal drone lay on the ground, damaged and bent. The black exterior was scratched and dented, one wing broken, a silver “C” emblazoned on the tail.

Leighton rushed to Jazlyn and pulled her close. “Are you hurt?”

Jazlyn shook her head, crying too hard to speak.

One of the guys snorted. “People are fine. The equipment’s not.”

Leighton looked up. “How much?”

The guy shoved a tablet in front of her.

Repair estimate: $200,000.

Leighton’s heart dropped.

Jazlyn clung to her, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to. I was riding too fast and couldn’t stop.”

Leighton shielded her sister. “I’ll take responsibility.”

The guy laughed sharply. “You? How exactly?”

“Do you even know who owns this?”

Leighton didn’t answer.

Just then, a car door slammed.

Logan approached, holding a black umbrella that shielded Leighton from the rain.

The guys intimidating Jazlyn immediately backed off, heads bowed. “Mr. Jackson.”

Logan ignored them, glanced at Leighton. Then he turned to the guy demanding compensation. “Who told you to scare her?”

The guy stiffened. “Mr. Jackson, this is Barnes’s drone. He insisted on payment tonight.”

Logan took the tablet, glanced down. “Barnes?”

The guy nodded.

Logan dialed a number, his tone calm. “Send me your account details.”

Leighton’s head snapped up.

She couldn’t hear the person on the other end, but Logan smiled faintly. “Two hundred thousand. I’ll cover it.”

Moments later, the transaction was confirmed.

The guys didn’t dare utter another word.

Logan tossed the tablet back to them. “I’m your creditor now,” he said, turning to Leighton.

She met his gaze, her throat suddenly dry. Why was this man helping her?

Logan stepped closer, his voice soft. “Leighton.”

“Your sister owes me now. How do you plan to repay?”

Leighton stared at Logan, her thoughts consumed by one number: two hundred thousand dollars. That debt hung over her like a storm cloud, ready to swallow her whole. Her mom’s medical bills kept piling up, her father’s debts never seemed to end, and Jazlyn’s health was hanging by a thread.

Now Logan had cleared it. The debt was no longer owed to Barnes. It belonged to Logan now.

Leighton squeezed Jazlyn’s hand. “I’ll pay it back.”

Logan arched a brow, intrigued. “How?”

“In installments. Over five years,” Leighton replied.

A disbelieving laugh came from somewhere in the crowd. The idea of making two hundred grand in five years? Laughable. Logan’s gaze swept the crowd, and the laughter died on the spot.

The crowd went tense, but Leighton could still feel danger hanging in the air. Logan was not known for being generous. He tilted his umbrella over her, letting the rain hit him instead.

“Day classes, diner shifts at night, tutoring on weekends, extra gigs during breaks?” he asked.

Leighton blinked. “Have you been spying on me?”

Logan didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to her beat-up canvas shoes and the damp sleeve of her blouse. “Leighton, you think you’re invincible?”

It stung because deep down, she knew she wasn’t. She’d known since she was sixteen that she was the only one in her family willing to carry this weight. When her mom got sick, Jazlyn cried, her father vanished, and Leighton was left to hold everything together.

Her world came down to a bank balance, hospital bills, and late-night diner shifts. She wasn’t trying to play hero. There was simply no one else to step up.

“If I don’t, who’s going to take care of Jazlyn?”

Jazlyn started crying again. Leighton didn’t turn. If she saw her sister cry, her resolve would crack.

Logan watched her for a beat, something strange flickering across his face. It wasn’t pity. More like he’d expected that answer—and it frustrated him anyway.

Then he said, “Three months.”

Leighton frowned, confused.

“Be my girlfriend. For three months,” Logan clarified.

Leighton almost laughed. “Logan, are you out of your mind?”

He let out a soft laugh. “Maybe.”

He pulled the pale pink letter from his pocket—the one she’d given him earlier—and held it out. Rain had smeared one corner, but Jazlyn’s name was still clear.

Her expression hardened. “You took my stuff?”

“It isn’t yours,” Logan said, meeting her gaze. “So today wasn’t a confession. It was you making a scene for her.”

The truth cut deep.

Jazlyn apologized through her tears, but Leighton didn’t turn back. She knew it would only make her sister’s distress worse.

She faced Logan. “Those are two separate things.”

“True,” Logan conceded. “But both fall on you.”

He continued, “My terms are simple. One: be my girlfriend for three months and attend the events I need you at. Two: I won’t touch you without your consent. Three: don’t deny our relationship in public. Break any rule, and the debt goes right back to you.”

Leighton’s frustration boiled over. “This is blackmail.”

“Think of it as a business deal,” Logan replied smoothly, something unspoken lingering in his tone.

Leighton went silent. She had no experience with romance, and she’d never dreamed of repaying a debt by playing someone’s girlfriend. It felt surreal—like a story that belonged to someone else. Except here she was, living it.

Two hundred thousand dollars. Her mother’s illness. Jazlyn’s pale face. She had no room to refuse.

She asked, “Just in name?”

Logan studied her. “Unless you want more.”

Leighton met his gaze without flinching. He chuckled and dropped the teasing. “In name only.”

“And you can’t touch me, mess with my studies, or make me do anything illegal,” she insisted.

Logan arched a brow. “You’ve got a lot of conditions.”

“You can always back out,” she countered, her voice rising slightly.

The people around them held their breath, bracing for Logan’s anger. But he didn’t lash out.

Instead, he smiled. “Deal.”

Jazlyn clung to Leighton. “Sis, don’t do it.”

Leighton turned to her sister’s tear-soaked face. Jazlyn insisted she should face the consequences herself, but Leighton knew she couldn’t handle it.

Gently, she peeled Jazlyn’s fingers off her arm. “Go back to the dorm. Don’t tell Mom.”

“Sis…”

“Please. Just listen to me.”

Logan cut in. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

Leighton reminded him, “It’s all an act.”

Logan nodded solemnly. “To everyone else? It can’t be.”

Just as Leighton opened her mouth to protest, a woman’s voice cut through the rain.

“Logan.”

Nataly stood in the rain under her umbrella, looking at Leighton like she was something foul. “When did you start liking this type?”

Leighton’s hand clenched.

Logan didn’t turn. Instead, he reached over and tucked a rain-slick strand of hair behind her ear. Leighton stiffened.

Logan looked up. “Who she is isn’t yours to decide.”

Nataly’s grip on her umbrella tightened, her eyes full of disdain for Leighton.

Logan took Leighton’s wrist and led her toward his car. She resisted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving my girlfriend a ride back to the dorms.”

“I said this isn’t real.”

Logan kept going, unfazed. “Then act like it.”

He opened the car door and gestured for her to get in. Just as he was about to shut it, Nataly’s voice sliced in, cold as ice.

“Logan, you’ll regret this.”

He leaned against the car door with a lazy smile. “I’m not known for listening to warnings.”

And with that, he shut the door.

Leighton had barely settled into her seat when her phone started buzzing. The top post on the university forum was blowing up.

[Rejected by Jeremy, Leighton Turner ends up in Logan Jackson’s car—becoming his contract girlfriend.]

The attached photo showed Logan gently brushing her hair aside. The first comment was vicious.

[Looks like even a broke student knows how to choose. If Jeremy’s not an option, bag a trust-fund heir.]

The words cut like ice.

Logan started the car, his voice calm. “Are you scared?”

Leighton answered without hesitation. “Nothing to fear.”

He leaned in to fasten her seatbelt, his breath warm against her face. She flinched back, cheeks burning.

Logan’s voice went suddenly soft. “Leigh.”

Her ears burned with embarrassment, and she turned her face away.

The car cut through the rain.

Half a minute later, her phone lit up again. The hospital.

The name of her mother’s nurse flashed on the screen, and dread settled heavy in Leighton’s stomach.

Leighton’s thumb hovered over the answer button. Her eyes snagged on the name lighting up the screen, and an uneasy tightness cinched around her chest. Hospital calls were rare. When they came, they rarely brought good news.

Logan killed the music and pulled over to the shoulder. The cabin went dead quiet, save for the rhythmic swish of the wipers.

Leighton finally picked up. The nurse’s voice was sharp with urgency.

“Leighton? Your mother’s taken a turn. We need another payment.”

Her grip tightened around the phone. “How much?”

“Eighty thousand.”

Eighty thousand. The number hit her like a tidal wave. She’d just had a two-hundred-thousand-dollar burden dumped on her, and now another eighty?

Leighton forced her voice steady. “I’ll find a way by tomorrow morning. Can you hold it until then?”

The nurse sighed and told her to hurry. When the call ended, silence swallowed the car whole.

Logan held out a credit card. “Take it.”

Leighton shook her head. “I don’t need it.”

His words were blunt enough to cut. “You’re out of money.”

She met his gaze, defiant. “Just because I’m broke doesn’t mean I want your charity.”

Logan held the card between two fingers, unmoved. He’d dealt with stubborn before. But the kind of resilience Leighton had—the kind that dug in even when she had nothing left—he’d only seen once.

Years ago, a little girl stood outside a burning building, face streaked with soot, holding on to a boy much heavier than she was. Ambulance lights flashed red and blue across her face. She clung to him, one arm burned, refusing to let go. When they tried to pull her to safety, she asked only one thing. “Will he live?” Those eyes—God, they were the same. Unyielding.

Logan blinked back to the present and set the card on the console between them. “You don’t have to take it.”

“When you change your mind, it’s there.”

Leighton’s head snapped toward him. “Logan, just because I agreed to your three-month arrangement doesn’t mean you get to run my life.”

Logan watched her for a beat, then—unexpectedly—laughed. “You like your boundaries.”

She didn’t answer.

He pocketed the card. “All right.”

“We’ll do this your way.”

He restarted the engine. Leighton assumed they were headed to the hospital. Instead, they pulled up in front of the dorms.

A crowd was already waiting at the entrance. The forum gossip had blown up fast. Jeremy stood in the middle of it, polished and polite as ever.

Leighton unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door. Logan kept the locks down.

She turned on him. “Open it.”

Logan gave her a lazy once-over. “You plan to face them alone?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

He popped the lock and got out with her. The crowd went quiet. Phones shot up.

Leighton hated the scrutiny—the feeling of being picked apart by a hundred eyes.

Jeremy walked over, glanced at Logan, then fixed his attention on her.

“Leighton, can we talk?”

She didn’t give him an inch. “We have nothing to talk about.”

Jeremy’s expression flickered. “I was harsh this morning.”

“But if you’re just trying to make me jealous by hanging around Logan, it’s unnecessary.”

It sounded like an apology. It wasn’t. The implication was clear: she’d been rejected, so now she was using Logan to make him jealous.

Leighton stared at him. The humiliation from this morning had been pointless—especially for Jazlyn’s sake.

“Jeremy.”

“First, I didn’t write the letter.”

The crowd held its breath.

“Second, I don’t like you.”

Jeremy’s face darkened.

“Third, being turned down by you doesn’t matter to me.”

A laugh rippled through the crowd.

Jeremy’s smile strained. “Then why did you confess?”

Leighton opened her mouth, but Logan pulled her in close, his hand firm on her back. His presence was overwhelming—like a shadow of authority falling over the whole courtyard.

“Whatever she does is none of your business.”

Jeremy squared up. “Logan, I was only concerned.”

Logan smirked. “Your concern was missing this morning when you humiliated her.”

Jeremy’s expression soured. “That was a misunderstanding.”

Logan pulled the pale pink note from his pocket. “You didn’t even read it before you accused her of putting on a show.”

“Jeremy, you really do love your dramatics.”

Someone in the crowd muttered a stunned curse.

Jeremy’s face fell.

Leighton glanced at Logan. “Give it back.”

He looked down at her. “You want it now?”

“That belongs to my sister.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, but he handed it over. She shoved it deep into her bag.

Jeremy pressed on. “Even if the letter wasn’t yours, what’s going on with you and Logan?”

“A word of advice.”

“Logan’s just playing around.”

It sounded like a caution. It was a warning, wrapped in condescension.

Before Leighton could fire back, Logan let out a soft chuckle. “I’m just hoping she’ll play me.”

The crowd went dead silent.

Leighton stiffened.

Logan leaned in, his voice low enough for only her. “Third rule—no denying.”

She gritted her teeth and swallowed the retort.

His gaze swept the crowd. “Listen up.”

“She’s under my protection now.”

A hush fell over everyone.

Leighton’s heart pounded. She knew exactly what kind of chaos those words would unleash. Sure enough, within seconds, whispers and camera shutters erupted.

Someone brought up the two hundred thousand.

Hushed murmurs followed—about Leighton selling herself.

Logan’s voice cut through the noise. “Anyone else who talks trash about my girlfriend will find out how ugly things can get.”

Everything went silent.

Jeremy’s face was thunderous.

Logan tossed out one last line. “Leave her alone.”

“She doesn’t need your so-called concern.”

Since when had she become the timid one?

Unable to face the humiliation, Jeremy turned and walked off, the crowd trailing after him.

But Leighton knew the forums wouldn’t quiet down tonight.

She turned toward the dormitory.

Logan caught the strap of her backpack.

Leighton turned, her gaze cooling.

He didn’t touch her again. Instead, he handed her a card with nothing but a number on it.

“I’ve arranged for the hospital to hold off on the payment until morning.”

Leighton froze.

Logan pulled his hand back. “Find a way to pay. But don’t meet with just anyone.”

His tone carried a warning he didn’t spell out.

“What do you mean?”

Logan glanced at her phone. “You’ll have visitors tonight.”

“Don’t go alone.”

Unease settled low in her stomach.

Before she could ask more, Logan was already back in his car.

Once the car disappeared, Leighton headed up to her dorm. The door creaked open. Silence fell. Her three roommates eyed her warily.

One girl sneered. “Leighton, keeping secrets now, are we?”

“Jeremy this morning, Logan tonight—quite the busy day.”

Leighton set down her bag. “What are you implying?”

The girl crossed her arms. “The forum is blowing up, and you’re pretending it’s nothing?”

Another roommate shoved her phone in Leighton’s face. A new thread had overtaken the old one.

[Logan Jackson declares: Leighton Turner is under his care.]

Below it, someone had dug up her whole life. A gambler father, a terminally ill mother, a sister with heart problems, a convenience-store job.

But it was the last line that sent a chill down her spine.

[No wonder this kind of family clings to wealth.]

Staring at the words, a cold fury simmered in her chest.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. An unknown number flashed across the screen with a text.

[Want the eighty thousand? Meet at The Nightfall Club.]

[Don’t tell Logan Jackson.]

Leighton stared at the message, Logan’s earlier warning echoing in her head.

Then another message popped up—a photo.

Jazlyn sat in the hospital hallway, pale as a ghost. Behind her stood someone wearing a pearl bracelet.