Page 11 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

Aria reached for the door handle before the sedan came to a full stop. The moment they were in front of the main entrance, she threw the door open and bolted toward the entrance.

Inside, the lobby was transformed. Two private security guards stood by the elevators. An elite medical team waited beside an empty gurney. The billing clerk who had turned her away hours earlier hurried over, a tablet clutched nervously to her chest.

“Ms. Vale! Your mother has been transferred directly to the Blackthorne Critical Care Wing.”

Aria froze.

The name was carved into a massive brass plaque behind the reception desk: THE BLACKTHORNE MEDICAL FOUNDATION.

Damien walked in behind her. The lobby seemed to bend around his presence—staff straightened, guards bowed their heads, and the billing clerk stepped back respectfully.

Aria turned on him slowly. “You own this hospital.”

“My corporation holds the controlling interest.”

“You knew exactly who I was before that elevator ever stalled.”

He didn’t bother to deny it.

Dr. Patel emerged through double doors, already in surgical scrubs. “Aria, we need to operate immediately. The authorization went through, but I need your signature on the emergency clearance.”

Aria rushed over. “Will she make it?”

“This gives her the best possible chance.” He handed her a stylus. Aria’s injured hand shook so violently her signature was barely legible.

“Can I see her?”

“For one minute.”

She followed him through the secure doors. Evelyn looked impossibly small in the center of the massive room, surrounded by quiet, expensive monitoring equipment. An oxygen mask covered her mouth.

“Mama,” Aria whispered, taking her hand.

Evelyn’s eyelids fluttered open weaky. “Aria... the money?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aria choked out. “It’s taken care of.”

Evelyn’s gaze drifted toward the observation glass. Damien stood on the other side, watching them like a silent specter.

“What...?” Evelyn breathed, her face scrunching in confusion.

Aria looked at the man who was both the architect of her nightmare and her mother’s only salvation.

“Someone who’s helping us.”

Her left hand moved automatically to rub her right wrist.

Through the glass, Damien’s gaze locked onto the movement. He knew she was lying.

Minutes later, the surgical team wheeled Evelyn into the operating theater.

Aria stood in the sterile corridor until her legs finally buckled.

Damien caught her before she hit the floor. One powerful arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her weight while his other hand steadied her shoulders. He was warm, solid, and terrifyingly unyielding.

“Let go of me,” she gasped, hating his help, but hating that she didn’t hate the feel of him even more.

He released her instantly.