Layla Jensen sold herself into marriage for $28,800. Her new husband was ten years older, with a five-year-old daughter. After returning the money to her parents—a final, hollow act of gratitude—she packed up her pathetic handful of belongings and left for good.

When she got to the address he’d given her, the mansion’s sheer size knocked the breath out of her. For a second, she was sure she’d gotten it wrong. Just as she was about to turn and flee, a sweet, childish voice rang out.

“You made it, Sis!” Before Layla could even brace herself, the little girl sprinted over and wrapped herself around Layla’s leg, beaming up at her. Layla knelt, pulling her into a hug. “This is your house?” she asked, her voice full of disbelief.

Avianna nodded, her small, soft hand tugging Layla toward the massive front door. The housekeeper, Monica Morris, hurried over to take the luggage. Layla stood there, stunned. So her husband could drop twenty-eight grand like pocket change and live like this? It didn’t feel real.

Even at thirty-two, the man was striking—well-built, impossibly well-dressed, handsome in a way that made her head spin. Miles better than the middle-aged disaster her parents had tried to chain her to. Still, as she followed Avianna inside, Layla couldn’t stop staring. Gold accents, high-end finishes everywhere. The place was palatial, straight out of a dream.

In a daze, she followed Monica’s gesture to head upstairs. “Ma’am, this way. I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled.” Layla nodded, clutching Avianna’s hand like a lifeline. Once inside the room, Monica set the luggage down, gave a few quick instructions, and disappeared with the little girl.

Alone now, Layla glanced down at her outfit—faded white sneakers, old jeans, and a plain white T-shirt. She looked desperately out of place in all this elegance. Monica had mentioned clothes were waiting for her, and she spotted the bathroom right there. So she grabbed some loungewear from the closet and headed in.

Sinking into the hot bath, Layla let her mind drift back over the absolute whirlwind of the past three days. It still felt like some impossible dream. She was only twenty-two—fresh out of college and into a hospital internship—when her parents had pressured her to come home for an arranged marriage. When she’d refused, they’d threatened to end their own lives. They’d already pocketed a $28,800 bride price to buy a house for her brother. She had no choice. So she met the man, and her stomach dropped: over forty, with a leg missing. Despair had swallowed her whole that night. She’d honestly thought about ending everything.

Fleeing back to the city, desperate for a minute of peace, she’d been by the lake when she saw Avianna drowning. Without a second thought, Layla had jumped in, dragged her out, and used every scrap of her nursing training to revive her.

The next day, Sebastian Knight found her. He offered her anything she needed. Caught completely off guard, the words had tumbled out before she could stop them: “Your daughter said you’re single. Will you marry me? But you have to give me a bride price of twenty-eight thousand dollars.”

She’d figured no man in his right mind would say yes. But Sebastian had. He’d transferred the money and taken her straight to the courthouse for the license.

Layla understood now: the marriage was only ever about giving Avianna a stepmother. She had no idea where the girl’s real mother had gone or how they’d split up. Exhaustion pulled at her, and without even noticing, she fell asleep right there in the tub. Later, Monica gently shook her awake. “Ma’am, Mr. Knight is back. Please get ready to join him and Miss Avianna for dinner.”

Layla scrambled out, threw on her clothes, and crept downstairs. In the living room, Sebastian stood in a sharp tailored suit, radiating a quiet, intimidating confidence that made her stomach tighten. She always felt so small next to him, so completely out of her depth, like a child pretending to be an adult.

She forced herself forward, voice barely steady. “You’re back.”

He spared her one brief, indifferent glance. To him, she was just another woman who’d married him for his money—no different from all the others who tried to get close. If she hadn’t saved his daughter, she never would’ve become Mrs. Knight.

“Let’s eat,” he said, already moving toward the dining room. The coldness in his tone stung. Layla’s heart ached, but she swallowed it down, mocking herself inwardly. Of course he couldn’t stand her. She’d saved his kid’s life and then demanded cash, and now here she was, living as his wife. Any decent person would feel sick about it.

She didn’t have the highest opinion of herself, but she’d needed a husband—any husband—to escape her parents forcing her into something far worse. Being Avianna’s stepmother was a thousand times better than ending up with someone who made her skin crawl. At least her husband was easy on the eyes, and Avianna actually liked her.

“Sis, Daddy said you’re staying and that you might even become my mommy—is it true?” Avianna’s bright eyes were full of so much hope it made Layla’s chest ache. Warmth spread through her as she held the girl’s little hand. “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be right here to take care of you.”

“Yay, that’s wonderful!” Avianna beamed. “Since Daddy said you could be my mommy, can I call you Mommy?”

Layla nodded, stroking the girl’s hair. “Of course.” She’d already decided to be a stepmother; letting Avianna call her Mommy only felt right.

They sat across from Sebastian at the massive dining table. He didn’t say a word the entire meal and vanished as soon as he’d finished. Watching him go, sadness coiled in Layla’s chest. But maybe it was for the best—if her husband didn’t want her, he wouldn’t want her body either. She wouldn’t have to stomach any wifely duties.

That night, after tucking Avianna into bed, Layla considered just sleeping there. But a shadow appeared in the doorway. Sebastian’s voice was low and final. “Come out. We need to talk.” She slipped out of bed and followed him to the master bedroom.

He gestured toward a set of documents on the coffee table. “Here’s an agreement. Sign it.” Layla picked up the prenup and confidentiality papers and signed without a second glance. He watched, one eyebrow rising slightly. “You’re not even going to read it?”

She met his eyes, her voice steady and empty. “I understand exactly what this is, Mr. Knight. Don’t worry—I won’t breathe a word about being your wife, and I definitely won’t spend your money.”

She couldn’t go back to her hospital job now; all she could do was accompany her sister Abby to her treatments. Seeing Abby’s frail body, her bald head, her face so pale, was like a knife to the heart every single time. Cancer demanded relentless chemo, and eventually a stem cell transplant that would cost somewhere between forty and fifty thousand dollars. The weight of it was suffocating, and Layla felt like she was drowning under it.

But Abby stayed optimistic, always flashing a bright smile no matter how awful she felt. “Sis, I sent a story to a publisher. They might accept it, and then money won’t be so tight,” she said, her voice weak but laced with stubborn hope.

Layla hugged her gently, fighting the urge to break down. “Just rest when you’re hurting, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’m alright. It’s only chemo that’s really bad,” Abby whispered. “But if I can earn a little from writing, it might ease your load.”

She was a minor without a diploma—no one would hire her. So she’d turned to writing online, hoping to lighten her sister’s impossible burden. She knew Layla was already supporting their younger sister and had just handed their mother several thousand dollars. Even with a rich husband, that couldn’t last. Abby saw the strain, and it broke her heart.

Layla blinked back tears, her jaw tight. She’d do anything to keep Abby alive. Her sister was so young, with so many years ahead. She could not lose her.

“Sis, I’ve been craving your ravioli. Could you maybe bring me some next time?” Abby asked, already dreading the brutal chemo session ahead and hoping to spare her sister the sight of her suffering.

Layla nodded fast. “I’m off today, so I’ll head home now and make them. You want mushroom and pork filling, right?” Abby smiled, weak but real.

Leaving the hospital, Layla stopped by the supermarket. Her phone buzzed—Mathias Knight. He sounded genuinely worried. “Why didn’t you show up for work? Did my family fire you?”

He couldn’t believe Layla would mess up his meds, and even if she had, it wouldn’t have been on purpose. He knew about her money problems and the weight she carried.

Guilt tightened her throat. “I’m sorry, Mathias. I should’ve taken better care of you.”

“But I didn’t switch your medication. If I ever get the chance, I’d go back to that hospital in a heartbeat.” It was obvious she’d been falsely accused. Mathias understood instantly. “Don’t worry. I’ll set things straight with my family and get you cleared so you can come back to work.”

Relief flooded her. “Thank you so much.”

“No need. We’re friends,” he said. Rumors had flown around about Layla being married, supposedly with some husband seen at the hospital, but Mathias didn’t buy a word of it. If she really were married, why keep it a total secret? He’d checked everywhere and found no record.

The truth was, Sebastian had quietly locked down all evidence of their marriage—he didn’t want the connection muddying up his life or giving Layla any extra advantage.

He’d married her, yes, but he’d sworn to himself this wasn’t a real marriage. Still, being around Layla had started to unsettle him in ways he both hated and craved. He liked having her near, but he kept a cold guard up, reminding himself over and over: she married you for the money. Don’t be a fool.

That afternoon, Layla made the ravioli and arrived at the hospital just as Abby’s chemo began. She stood frozen at the door, watching her sister lying there, tears streaming, choking back vomit from the agony. Layla’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She couldn’t stand seeing the illness tear through her like that. She crouched by the doorway and wept silently, helpless.

When the treatment ended, she waited until the doctor finished before slipping inside to be with her sister. Wanting to soak up every minute, she called Monica to pick up Avianna and stayed with Abby late into the night.

By the time she dragged herself back to the Knight Estate, Avianna was already asleep. But in the dim living room, Sebastian sat waiting. Surprise flickered through her exhaustion. “Mr. Knight, why are you still up?”

He glanced over, noticing not her usual nervous energy but the redness rimming her eyes. She’d been crying. “What’s going on? You’re supposed to be resting at home. Why are you back so late?” His voice was curt, but under it, something else lingered—something he refused to name. He’d been waiting, and he hated himself for it.

Layla scrambled to hide the truth, not ready to dump her family’s mess on him. “Weren’t you the one telling me to get my license? I was out practicing, then grabbed dinner with some college friends.”

He saw right through it. Monica had already mentioned she’d spent the afternoon making ravioli and taken a box out—but she hadn’t gone to Mathias at the hospital. So who were they for? A hot twist of frustration coiled in his chest.

“You’re home now. Go get some rest,” he dismissed, voice flat.

She caught the edge in his tone and her pulse quickened. Had her late return really bothered him? Did Mr. Knight actually worry, or wait up for her? If so, maybe that wasn’t a bad sign. Before heading to bed, she apologized softly. “I’m sorry. I’ll come home earlier next time. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Sebastian’s reply came sharp and cold. “Your business is your own. I’m not about to lose sleep over you.”

Sebastian Knight froze for a moment. Was she serious? If she really didn't want his money, then what was the $28,800 about in the first place? He wasn't one to be cheap, so he kept his tone even. "I don't want anyone knowing you're my wife. But since you're taking care of my daughter, I'll give you a monthly allowance of $3,000."

Layla Jensen perked up the second she heard $3,000 a month. It was tempting — really tempting — but she still shook her head. "There's no need, Mr. Knight. I have a job. I can support myself. I'm already grateful just to have a roof over my head, and looking after Avianna is the least I can do. You don't have to pay me extra."

"Must you be so formal with me? Or do you think I'm that old?" Sebastian frowned, clearly put off. Early thirties, still very much in his prime, and here she was making him sound like some elder.

Layla gave a quick, apologetic nod. "I'm sorry. I'll keep that in mind."

Sebastian pressed on. "Like I said, $3,000 a month. Just keep quiet about our relationship." He started to turn away, then stopped cold. Right. This was the master bedroom — not exactly a place for him to retreat to.

He paused, eyes narrowing as he took in the girl standing there, all shy and uncertain. "Are you willing to take on the responsibilities of being my wife?"

Layla wasn't ready for that one. She looked up at him — way up. The man was huge, had to be over six feet. Her neck craned just to meet his gaze. His question sent heat flooding her cheeks. She dropped her eyes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, totally struggling to answer.

Seeing her squirm, Sebastian decided not to push it. "If you change your mind later, you can come to this room at night. I'll compensate you then. You can go rest now."

He figured she'd jump at the offer. A woman like her — shallow, willing to do anything for cash. But to his surprise, Layla gave a firm nod and walked out without so much as a backward glance.

Sebastian stood there, confused. Then it clicked. She was playing it cool. It was literally her first day here — of course she had to act all composed so she wouldn't come across as desperate and off-putting. Gotta hand it to her, she was one hell of an actress.

Back in the room Monica had set up for her, Layla let out a long, shaky breath. What was Mr. Knight even talking about? Offering her money to play wife — how was that not just a straight-up transaction? She knew she owed him $28,800. If he hadn't thrown extra cash at her, maybe, just maybe, she would've considered eventually doing those duties. But now? Not a chance. She wasn't the type to sell herself for money.

That night, the unfamiliar surroundings messed with her sleep. Layla tossed and turned, chasing her tail through one nightmare after another, and woke up at the crack of dawn.

Feeling like she ought to earn her keep in someone else's house, she headed down to the kitchen. By the time Sebastian came downstairs, breakfast was already on the table.

When Monica arrived to take care of Avianna, she couldn't help singing Layla's praises to Sebastian. "Mr. Knight, Mrs. Jensen is unreal. She was up at the crack of dawn, busy in the kitchen — I couldn't stop her. She made everything from scratch."

Sebastian studied the girl stepping out of the kitchen with new eyes. He'd pegged her as some money-hungry trophy wife who'd lay around the second she snagged the Mrs. Knight title. Instead, here she was cooking meals. Maybe she was trying to prove him wrong.

But he didn't give Layla any credit. Instead, his face went hard, and he turned to Monica. "If you can't do your job, I'll find someone who can."

Monica panicked, apologizing like crazy. "I'm so sorry, sir. It won't happen again. I swear, I won't let Mrs. Jensen into the kitchen anymore."

Layla, totally confused, rushed to explain. "I wanted to do it. It's not Monica's fault."

Sebastian ignored her, eating with that cold, commanding presence of his. After a beat, he said, his voice low and full of authority, "I believe in doing the work you're paid for. If you want to replace her as housekeeper, I'll accommodate you."

Layla started to explain again, but Monica shot her a pleading look. "Mrs. Jensen, please. I need this job."

Hesitating, Layla finally nodded at Monica. "Alright. I won't take over your duties again."

She untied the apron from her waist and sat down to eat. Monica quickly set a place for her.

After breakfast, Sebastian headed off to the office. Layla and Monica dropped Avianna at preschool, then Layla went straight to the hospital for her shift. She was interning at a private hospital, pulling in about $450 a month. Two months left in her internship, and she was gunning for a full-time spot — better pay, better benefits.

Determined to crush it, Layla poured everything into her work. She got to the nurse's station, threw on her white coat, and started her shift. The head nurse sent her to set up an IV for Bed 18.

Prepped with supplies, Layla headed to the VIP ward. Those beds were strictly for the rich and powerful. She reached Bed 18, double-checked the patient's name, and started prepping for an allergy test and the IV line. The patient smiled at her and asked, "So, you Jacob's girlfriend?"

Startled, Layla looked up. Guy looked early twenties, young and handsome, and vaguely familiar. Seeing her freeze, Mathias Knight laughed. "I'm Jacob's old college roommate. I've seen you around — you went to the med school next door, used to visit Jacob all the time. I'm guessing you're... Layla, right?"

Layla remembered him then. Yeah, her ex's roommate. Back when she'd visit Jacob at Harvard, this guy was always shooting hoops with him.

Thinking about Jacob sent a sharp ache through her chest, but she kept working, steady and focused. "We broke up."

"Oh?" Mathias sounded skeptical, but his smile came quick. "You were right to break up, honestly. Jacob wasn't good enough for you. A girl like you deserves way better."

Layla said nothing, just focused on her task. She and Jacob had been high school sweethearts. He'd chased her, and his family was well-off. Hers? Broke, with parents who doted on her brother and left her to fend for herself. She'd had to work her way through school, telling everyone she was just working instead of continuing her education.

She'd hoped Jacob would step up and help. But every time money came up, he went silent. Like when she brought up the $28,800 bride price — told him she'd marry him if he could get that money, and they'd pay back any loans together. Jacob said no. He broke it off.

They say tough times reveal true love, and Layla finally saw Jacob for what he was. Felt lucky she never gave herself to him during those five years. All of it fell apart over a bride price.

Maybe him never getting what he wanted wore his patience thin. Layla didn't blame Jacob's pragmatism. She blamed her family situation that forced her to keep sacrificing.

After finishing Mathias's IV, Layla was about to leave with the tray when he threw out, "Let's swap info. My leg's gonna be stuck here a while. You can help me out with meals, and I'll tip you for it."

Layla hesitated for a moment before finally pulling out her phone to swap contact info with him. She was flat broke and desperate. After that $28,800 Sebastian had just handed over, she swore to herself she'd save every penny. If he kept his word and didn't lay a finger on her, she'd pay him back and bolt from this marriage as soon as humanly possible.

Work swallowed her whole. The morning flew by in a blur, and before she knew it, lunch break hit. She slumped into a chair in the cafeteria, exhausted. Right then, her phone buzzed. It was Abby, her younger sister who'd just started college. The second Layla answered, Abby's panicked voice came through, crackling with worry.

"Sis, Mom and Dad cut me off—won't give me a dime for food or anything. I can't even afford to eat. Can you spot me some cash?"

Layla's chest clenched. She had two younger sisters and a brother. Abby was nineteen and totally new to university; her other sister Chloe was seventeen and still grinding through high school; her brother Jason was fifteen. Their parents worshipped the ground Jason walked on, typical boy-obsessed mentality. Layla and her sisters got brushed aside to make sure their precious son never felt a second of discomfort. At fifteen, Jason lived like a little king, getting whatever his heart desired—he even had his own apartment bought for him back in middle school, all paid for with Layla's bride price.

Layla's biggest fear was that her sisters would get forced onto the same twisted path she was. She'd drilled it into them to finish their degrees no matter what, promising she'd back them up financially if their parents bailed. Now Abby was calling for help—how the hell could she say no?

She glanced at her phone, checking her balance: a measly $500 left. Without a second thought, she sent every last cent to Abby.

"Here, take this for now. If it's not enough, I'll figure something out."

Abby thanked her and hung up. Layla scarfed down a bland, hurried lunch and rushed back to the nurses' station. A message from Mathias Knight was waiting. He wanted her to bring him lunch—and had already wired over $1,000 for the errand.

Mathias: “Grab me something tasty, with some fruit on the side. Keep the change as a tip.”

At the sight of that cash, Layla's eyes lit up hard. She remembered the hospital had an employee kitchen where staff could cook. So she hustled her butt to a nearby grocery store on her lunch break, grabbed fresh ingredients, and whipped up a meal herself. Mathias had a leg injury—probably from a bike wreck—so Layla made dishes meant to speed up his recovery.

She bolted to his room just before her shift started again, completely breathless.

"I'm so sorry I'm late."

Then she froze. The room wasn't empty. Standing right beside the bed was the man she'd just married—Sebastian Knight. The one who'd made it crystal clear that their marriage had to stay secret. He was decked out in an impeccable suit, his gaze as cold and cutting as ever.

Guilt punched her in the gut. Layla set the food on the bedside table, her voice shaky. "If you need anything else, let me know. I have to get back to work."

She practically ran out of that room, her mind spinning like crazy. Her ex-boyfriend's roommate knew her new husband. And both men shared the Knight surname—could they actually be brothers? Her anxiety skyrocketed. If Mathias slipped and told Sebastian about her past with her ex, Sebastian might demand every penny back immediately. And then she'd be completely screwed.

Even with her mind reeling, Layla forced herself to focus on her duties.

Inside the hospital room, Sebastian's face stayed unreadable. "What's your deal with that nurse? Why'd she bring you food?"

Mathias laughed. "Oh, her? Friend of a friend. She's down on her luck, the kind who'd do anything for a buck."

Sebastian didn't respond, but that description felt like it fit. Still—was she really in a tight spot, or was all this just an act to milk sympathy for cash?

In a cold, flat tone, Sebastian warned, "Stay away from people like her, or you'll end up with nothing."

Mathias chuckled again, shooting Sebastian a look. "But Uncle, you gotta admit she's pretty cute. Even if she was running a con, I wouldn't mind. The Knight family can afford it, right?"

Sebastian's expression darkened. His voice turned razor-sharp. "As soon as you're healed, you're going abroad. Immediately."

After her shift finally ended, Layla rushed to catch the subway back to Starview Estate—the mansion Sebastian called home. Monica had once told her that Sebastian built the whole place for his daughter Avianna, even naming it after her. Layla figured he must love that kid more than anything.

Knowing Sebastian's schedule was insane, she doubted he got much time to help Avianna with schoolwork. So she decided to tutor her after work. But Avianna had been in school all day and was totally over it. She looked up at Layla with huge, pleading eyes.

"Mommy, can we go play outside?"

Layla couldn't stand forcing the child into more studying. She nodded, a soft smile on her lips. "Alright."

But then she remembered Sebastian's earlier warning. Gently, she said, "Sweetie, when we're outside, try not to call me 'Mommy.' Let's keep it as our special word just when we're home, okay?"

If Avianna called her "Mommy" in public and someone connected her to Sebastian, he'd lose it. She couldn't afford to piss off her only lifeline now.

"Why? You're my mommy now. Why can't I say it?" Avianna looked genuinely confused, blinking those bright eyes.

Layla explained as patiently as she could. Avianna still didn't quite get it, but she eventually agreed to call her "Sister" when they were out and about.

The two of them roamed the neighborhood garden, hitting the swings and slides, chasing each other till they were breathless with giggles. For the first time in ages, Layla felt light—genuinely light. She had no idea Sebastian was watching them from a car parked a little ways off.

From the driver's seat, his assistant Thatcher twisted around. "Mr. Knight, should I call Miss Knight and Mrs. Jensen over to give them a ride home?"

Sebastian shook his head firmly. "No. Let them play. I haven't seen my daughter this happy in forever."

He watched Layla, a full-grown married woman, play like a carefree kid. She seemed so damn innocent to him, almost sweet.

The car pulled away. Layla glanced over but didn't think twice about it, too wrapped up in their game of tag. When Avianna finally got tired, she panted, "Sister, I'm thirsty. I want ice cream! Can we get some?"

Worried about Avianna's stomach, Layla gently coaxed, "Let's go home and drink some water. Ice cream's too cold—it might upset your tummy."

Avianna wasn't having it. She had zero understanding of why it was bad, but she was dead set on hitting that self-service store nearby for ice cream. Blowing off Layla's advice, she marched over, grabbed a cone, and served herself like a pro.

Layla knew she didn't have the authority to be overly strict, so she caved. Watching how smoothly Avianna handled the ice cream machine, it was clear she ate this stuff all the time and never had a problem.

Then Avianna did something that caught Layla off guard: the first cone she made, she handed right to Layla, her voice sugary sweet. "Sister, try it—it's so yummy."

Layla didn't refuse. She whipped out her phone, scanned to pay, and they headed home, licking their cones and grinning.

Right before they reached the doorstep, Avianna tugged her to a stop, giggling. "Sister, finish it now! We can't let Daddy see—he'll be super mad."

Layla got it. They both polished off their ice cream outside before stepping in. And sure enough, Sebastian was already home.

Layla walked in with Avianna and greeted him, nerves prickling up her spine. "Mr. Knight, you're back."