Hailey’s POV

It's a pleasure meeting you, Kingsley, I responded, taking my hands away from his.

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t start the day with such a boring introduction.” I expected him to react to what I said but he ended up chuckling a little bit.

He drew out a chair for me and I sat down before he went to his seat. A waiter came to take our order prior to when our conversation started.

“So why didn’t you call off the engagement years ago. You could have to chose to cancel it when I said I wasn’t interested, why wait?” I asked him the question that bothered me so much.

“I just wanted to.” His reply was simple and fast. I glanced intently at him, studying his composure and mannerisms which captivated me.

I couldn’t tell if he was nervous or his expression was just calm. Indeed, worthy to be called the wealthiest man in his USA.

“A deal.” I proposed. He was looking at me and I felt uncomfortable under his stare so I cleared my throat.

“A deal is all I needed. We’ll fake a marriage to the crowd and grandfather. We'll create a perfect couple but once we are out of where camera is, no one is to interfere with each other.” I thought I saw his calm expression shift, replaced by hurt for a while but it was covered up quickly.

“Our private life will be different from one another and we can’t interfere in each other business, do you agree?” I asked him, biting my lips anxiously as I waited for his response.

There was silence at first and I thought he wanted to disagree but he said something else, “So what’s in with the deal for me?” Of course I knew he’ll ask.

I smiled at him.

******

It was already weeks since I knew of Kingsley and I could say he loooked mysterious and interesting to me, I wanted to know more about this man.

The engagement day was purposely set to be the same date with the cooperation with the Frenandro family.

I planned to reveal my identity and cancel the plans given to them. Since Lillian loves taking credit so much then I’ll give her one.

I slipped in the long white ball gown sent to me by Kingsley into my body. The waistline fitting perfectly on my body. I adjusted the hand and let down my hair letting it flow down reaching her shoulders.

I applied lipstick a bit to moist my lips more before standing up straight. I took my purse and took my phone, I slipped into the heels beside my bed stand then I smiled walking outside.

Everyone already left for the party but I stayed a bit because I had something to do. I went into the car and the chauffeur sped off out the mansion.

The car stopped in front of the banquet venue and I stepped out majestically after the chauffeur opened the door for me.

Coincidentally, Tyler and Lillian both came out of their own car also, “What a rare sight to see.” I thought.

I walked towards the entrance but was stopped by them as Lillian came forward.

“Sister, what are you doing here?” She asked me. I hate green tea bitches the most.

“Firstly, I’m the only daughter of my parents, we aren’t two.”

“Secondly, I really hate green tea bitch especially bitches like you who think acting all bitchy is everything needed to control a man.” I said and tried going but Tyler stopped me.

“I never said you could go yet.” He said. “You are just one lowly delivery woman, so why are you here? Have you hooked up with one of those old men just to get inside of here.” He blurted out which made me laugh.

To be honest, I didn’t think I really fell in love with a wolf hearted man like this. “If you try stopping me one more time then I’ll really show you the power of those old men.” I boasted back to him.

I showed my invitation to the guard at the entrance before walking in. There were a lot of celebrities and wealthy businessmen attending the banquet ceremony.

Just when I sight grandfather and tried walking to to him, Lillian lunged forward to me unexpectedly, tripping over me and making me lose my balance that I almost fell.

The guests stares were on us, every single eyes inside the banquet. “Do you think by attending this party, you could rise from peasant to a phoenix?” She asked. Her hand placed on her side waist.

I thought she had a little brain left and now I could see she didn’t. “Tyler, why don’t you train your dog more effective so she’ll know when to bark or not.” I rolled my eyes at them with a smirk plastered on my face.

I knew that will annoy her a lot, “What did you just say?” She asked. Her eyes red with anger as she stared at me like she was ready to pounce on me.

“I don’t want to think your ears are starting to malfunction also right. Oh my goodness, what a pity.” Everyone in the hall laughed at what I just said.

“You are just one old cleaning housewife my husband doesn’t want again. If it wasn’t because you had slept with some old men to get here today, do you think you’ll be here.” She blurted out.

I was thinking to wait until my identity was announced before canceling their cooperation with the company but their irritating appearance was starting to annoy me.

“Do you think everyone will be like you wishing to be a mistress and destroying homes everywhere like a dog.” I pushed her back and landed her a slap on her right cheek.

Everyone in the hall knew me since it was specially sent to everyone in the high socialites circle who knew of my true identity except for this two scum bags, I can’t wait to see the look of surprise plastered on their faces.

“How dare you push me? Who do you think you are.” She tried to attack me, she was holding the bottle of wine in her hand and threw it at me.

Her movements were so swift and fast thst I had to close my eyes in shock as I frozed in one place. I opened my eyes when I felt nothing touch me.

All I could hear was the loud crunch from the glass as it hit the floor, echoing in the hall.

I opened my eyes widely to find myself being sheltered by Kingsley.

He protected me from the scheming couples.

I felt a liquid dropped on the floor and checked, it was blood. “You are bleeding Kingsley.” I said, worried about him even though I couldn't figure out why I was so worried.

“It’s nice seeing you worry about me again but I’m fine.” He smiled affectionately and pecked my forehead. I couldn’t tell if he was doing it because of the deal or because he was being real.

“You need to go to the hospital.” I tried to make him but he stopped me.

“I’m fine.” He muttered. He held my hand and faced them, Tyler was the first to talk.

“Sir, why did you protect this woman, I’m telling you, she’s nothing but a slut…” Kingsley interrupted him by kicking him with his leg.

Tyler fell to the ground groaning in pain. “How dare you call the heiress of Norway group a slut? And who do you think you are to open your mouth and insult my fiancée, the fiancé of I, Kingsley Geralt, have I really been too nice to people these days?” Kingsley said.

“What do you mean? Heiress… Norway… Fiancée…” Tyler stuttered in shock, his eyes threatening to fall from their eyeballs.

Tyler was looking extremely shocked while staring at me. “Impossible, I was her husband for three years and she has never mentioned it to me.” He screamed but no one listened to him.

Kingsley was about to talk but I stopped him, “I’ll do this myself.” I walked towards him slowly and stopped in front of him intentionally pressing his fingers.

“Have you ever thought about why an incompetent person like you could get a cooperation with the Norway group, or why your company would get better and better with different big contracts. Or why you could go public in just a space of two years.”

“You could have learn to cherish what you have without being a scumbag.” I kicked him and tried to walk back to Kingsley.

“Wait, Hailey, I’m really sorry.”

“She actually seduced me, you know I really love you, I was just confused for some moments, please give me another chance.” His words were deafening to me.

I was emotionally tortured for three years just because he had his first love that he was still holding on to.

“You are really a scumbag.” I spat at him. Brother signaled the guards to take the two of them out with Tyler screaming my name sbd begging for mercy.

I rushed to Kingsley's side worried, “Kingsley are you okay?” I asked immediately, he nods his head but I knew that was a lie.

Hailey's Pov

“This” Kingsley’s knees hit the hard marble floor.

The sound is dull, faint - covered my the gossips of the guests.

The hall fell silent as everyone stood in shock. No one could react as they watched Kingsley heaving heavily on his knees,his face twisted in agony and pains.

And then his body followed abd he laid on the cold floor, struggling to breath.

Subconsciously, I moved to his side,and crouched down to pick him up from the floor.

I placed his upper body on my laps as I fanned him vigorously.

Amidst the emergency, the media teams were flashing their bright camera light, ok and off, taking pictures of the incident until they blur at the edges of my vision.

“Kingsley.”

My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s stripped bare, sharp, unpolished.

I reach for him and my hands sink into warmth.

For a moment, my mind refuses to understand what I’m touching. Then the smell hits me—metallic, unmistakable—and my fingers come away slick and dark.

Blood.

Too much of it.

I press my hands back down, harder this time, instinct overriding my thought. My palms slide against his side, trying to find where the damage ends and where he begins. The silk of my gown darkens instantly, soaking up the evidence of something that was never supposed to happen.

This wasn’t part of the deal.

“Don’t move,” I say, though he isn’t moving at all. “Don’t—just—”

My words fracture as his breath stutters beneath my wrist. It’s shallow, uneven, but it’s there. Relief crashes into my chest so hard it almost hurts.

“There,” I whisper. “That’s it. Stay with me.”

The banquet hall dissolves around us. It becomes noise without meaning—voices overlapping, shoes scraping, glass shattering somewhere behind me.

Brandon’s voice cuts through it all, calm and commanding, sharp enough to carve order out of chaos.

“Seal the exits. Phones down. Anyone filming gets escorted out.”

Security surges forward. Guests protest, then quiet under firmer hands. Someone kneels near me, saying something I don’t register.

I didn't look up.

Kingsley’s face has gone pale, the color draining from him in a way that feels unnatural for someone who stood so solidly moments ago. His lashes flutter, but his eyes didn’t open.

“Hey,” I say, leaning closer. My breath shakes against his cheek. “You don’t get to do this. Do you hear me?”

His jaw tightens faintly. A sound slips from him, low and involuntary, and my fingers curl reflexively, as if I can hold him here by force alone.

His dry, colourless lips broke into a thin smile for a brief second.

Paramedics finally push through the crowd. Hands replace mine, gloved and efficient. Someone tells me they’re taking over.

I hesitated.

For one stupid, irrational second, I didn’t want to let go. My hands feel like the only thing keeping him tethered to this side of the room.

Then I pulled back.

The air feels colder immediately.

They lift him onto the stretcher. The movement pulls a sharp sound from his throat, and my chest tightens in response, my body echoing his pain without permission.

“I’m here,” I said, walking alongside them. “I’m right here.”

The ambulance doors slam shut behind us, and the world shrinks to white walls and harsh light.

The siren starts up, a wailing scream that vibrates through my bones. I sat rigid on the narrow bench, knees pressed together, hands clasped so tightly my fingers ache. Across from me, the paramedics move with practiced urgency—cutting fabric, calling numbers, snapping instructions back and forth.

They cut away Kingsley’s shirt.

The sound of scissors is obscene in its calmness.

Fabric falls open, exposing skin already bruised and bloodied. Electrodes are placed. A mask covers his mouth. I watch his chest rise and fall, too shallow, too fragile for someone who looked untouchable standing under ballroom lights.

“Are you his wife?” one of them asks without looking at me.

“No,” I answer too quickly.

The word echoes in the small space.

Then, after a pause I can’t seem to shorten, I added, “Fiancée.”

It feels unreal in my mouth. It felt heavy, Like something borrowed but my heart skipped excitedly when I pronounced those words.

This was supposed to be simple, Strategic. He was supposed to be a name beside mine, a shield in boardrooms and headlines—not this. Not a body bleeding because he stepped in front of something meant for me.

The ambulance swerves. My shoulder hits the wall, but I barely feel it. My eyes are fixed on him, on the way his brow creases faintly as if even unconscious, he’s still fighting something.

As they peel back the last of the fabric, something else catches my eye.

A scar.

High on his collarbone, thin and jagged, silvered with age. It doesn’t belong to tonight. It’s old—old enough to have faded into the story of his body.

My breath stutters.

I know this.

Not logically, not clearly. But the recognition hits like pressure behind my eyes, sudden and disorienting. My hand lifts before I realize I’ve moved, fingers hovering inches from his skin.

I didn’t touch him.

Heat radiates off him, palpable even through the air.

For a split second, something presses at the edge of my mind—sunlight, dust, a voice calling my name—but it fractures before it can form. Pain pulses briefly at my temples, sharp and insistent, then fades.

I lower my hand slowly, curling my fingers into the bloodstained fabric of my gown.

Who are you?

The thought isn’t a question. It’s a realization.

I don’t know the man I just agreed to marry.

The siren cuts off abruptly as the ambulance slows. The sudden silence rings in my ears. The doors are thrown open, cold night air rushing in, followed immediately by the bright, sterile light of the emergency bay.

Everything moves fast again.

Shoes squeak against tile, Voices overlap. The gurney is rolling before I fully register it, my body following automatically, step for step, as if proximity alone might keep him from slipping away.

We reach a thick red line cutting across the floor.

A doctor steps into my path, hand raised—not aggressive, just final. His eyes flick to my ruined dress, to my hands still faintly stained despite the hurried wipe in the ambulance.

“Ms. Norway.”

My name lands with weight.

I look past him, watching Kingsley disappear deeper into the ER, swallowed by blue and green scrubs, by swinging doors that don’t wait for permission.

“I’m going with him,” I say.

The doctor doesn’t move.

“His vitals are dropping,” he says quietly. “We need to operate now. You cannot come any further.”

The doors swing shut in my face and I stood there staring at the closed door that separated me from Kingsley.

Chapter 6

HAILEY'S POV

I felt a pang in my chest as I thought of how Kingsley may be struggling for his life in the theater room.

A surge of emotions filled me as I kept staring into the blank space.

My brother patted my back as he led me to the waiting chair.

I slumped into a leather chair that’s too soft to be comforting, my back straight, my hands folded on my lap.

I cried, I prayed, and I hoped for Kingsley to awaken soon.

The blood on my dress has dried.

It’s no longer red. The bright red colour turned a dull brown, stiffening the fabric where it soaked in. I keep noticing it in my peripheral vision, like a stain that refuses to be ignored no matter how many times I look away.

The hallway is quiet in that expensive way hospitals reserve for people with . Thick carpet. Muted lights. No echoing cries. No chaos. Just the low hum of machines somewhere behind the walls and the red “IN OPERATION” sign glowing steadily at the end of the corridor.

It hasn’t changed.

Footsteps approached, I didn't look up until they stopped in front of me.

My grandfather was the first person I registered—his posture still rigid, his expression carefully controlled.

Grandfather looked at me with concern etched on his face without saying anything more he draped a cashmere coat over my shoulders, his hands lingering for a while comforting me.

“You should come home,” he says gently.

“Change. Rest. The staff will inform us when—”

The cold hard stare I gave grandpa made him to keep mute.

“Absolutely not.”

My grandfather stiffens slightly. “Hailey—”

“I walked a dying billionaire into this hospital tonight,” I said, my voice flat. “ I’ll be right here to hear it. When he awakes. Not from staff, not from a call.

From a doctor.”

The coat slides off my shoulders as I shrug it away.

I didn't look at him when I did it.

He didn't argue again.

Brandon leans back against the wall near me, crossing his arms. For a while, none of us spoke. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the faint movement of nurses passing at the far end of the wing.

My eyes drift back to the doors.

I kept seeing his face right before he fell.

That infuriating, arrogant half-smile. The one that made it feel like he knew something I didn’t. Like he knew exactly how much I was beginning to owe him and found it amusing.

The deal presses down on me like a weight.

I had cornered him. Used the one thing he couldn’t ignore—his missing mother—to make him agree to a marriage he never asked for. I’d told myself it was clean, it was transactional, that men like Kingsley Geralt understood this kind of thing.

And he’d repaid me by taking a vase to his ribs and head for me.

Twice.

My fingers curled against my thigh.

Brandon breaks the silence. “Tyler and Lillian didn’t get far.”

I turned my head slightly. “I assumed as much.”

“Security intercepted them at the gates. Police are questioning them now.” His mouth tightens.

“Tyler is crying. Says it was an accident, Lillian’s blaming the decor.”

That earns a breath of air through my nose,not quite a laugh.

“Of course she is.”

“They’re both being held for assault pending further investigation.”

“Good.”

I didn't feel satisfied, I didn't feel anything but anger and resentments towards them.

All I want is for the man behind those doors to stop being a hero and start being the arrogant cold, ruthless billionaire I striked a marriage deal with.

Minutes stretch into hours.

Nurses come and go. Doctors pass without stopping but yet the red sign stays lit.

I didn’t move from the chair. At some point, Brandon drew my cold body into his, comforting me as he could while my grandfather stepped away to take calls, his voice low and controlled as he speaks in hushed tones about contingencies and optics.

None of it reaches me, it wasn't my business.

I kept staring at the door.

I kept thinking about the scar-it felt familiar!

Five hours passed.

I knew because the clock across the hall finally changed, the digital numbers blinking over as if mocking me for counting.

Then, without warning, the red light clicks went off.

The hallway seems to inhale all at once.

The doors open.

A surgeon stepped out, pulling off his mask with a tired motion. His shoulders sag slightly, like the weight of the night has finally caught up to him.

His eyes lift and landed on me.

His long silence dreaded me.

I rushed to him.

“Doctor, how is my fiancee?” I asked with deep concern etched in my face.

“Ms Norway, Mr Kingsley is out of if danger for now”

“For now?” I stammered cutting the doctor off before he could complete the words.

“Yes, for now “ he replied.

“He is still unstable and needs to be monitored and taken well care of” the doctor informed me.

My body trembled slightly as I heard those words.

“Was everyone I loved meant to be hurt?” I asked myself unconsciously.

“What was I thinking?” I hit my head hard. I didn't even know when I had start thinking otherwise.

“Can I see him doctor?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

“Yes, Miss Norway, this way please,” the doctor escorted us into the room before closing the door behind us with the nurses inside, cleaning up the theater and his body.

My chest became so heavy when I saw how wounded Kingsley was. The wounds on his ribs, the marks from the shattered glasses, the amount of blood he lost.

His once bright face has lost it's beauty and his eyes were tightly shut, his lips cracked from dryness.

Instinctively, I walked over to his side, bent over him and kissed him, wetting his dry lips.

My hands hovered to his ribs- the mark.

Just then, a calm weak voice called out my name with a hushed tone.

“Hailey?”