Our Wedding Was Ruined and I Found a Husband `19

Laila’s POV 

Two days. 

That’s how long it had been since Ava’s surgery–forty–eight hours of stale air, antiseptic floors, and the rhythmic beeping of machines that had become both lullaby and torment. 

Two days of living inside this sterile hospital room, counting every fragile heartbeat on the monitors like they might vanish if I dared blink too long. 

Dr. Martinez called the procedure a success. Better than expected, he’d said, as though those three words could erase years of fear. 

But success wasn’t safety. “Well” didn’t mean “finished.” It meant a long road of recovery. Follow–ups. Specialists. Medication that insurance didn’t fully cover. Bills that stacked like bricks on my chest every time I looked at them too long. 

I was buried in those bills when the air shifted. 

I didn’t need to look up to know who stood in the doorway. His presence carried its own gravity. 

Jason. Again. 

“Ms. Harper,” he said, voice formal, like we were polite strangers instead of ghosts haunting each other. “I heard about your daughter. I wanted to offer my condolences.” 

“She’s not dead,” I snapped, eyes locked on Ava’s face. 

“Of course not. I meant–I’m sorry she’s going through this.” 

There was something in his voice. Concern. Real, maybe. But Jason always knew how to wear the right mask when it suited him. 

“Thank you,” I said anyway. Politeness makes a good shield. “Did you need something?” 

He stepped further inside. Hands clasped behind his back, posture formal, but his shoulders held tension like a man fighting himself. 

‘Actually,” he said slowly, “I wanted to discuss business. Our potential partnership.” 

My pulse spiked. Months of avoiding his calls, his invitations, his interest–and now here he was, planting the conversation in the one place I couldn’t ignore. With Ava’s monitors beeping steadily behind me, the weight of bills stacked in my lap, escape wasn’t an option. 

“I’m listening,” I said, though my voice wasn’t as steady as I wanted. 

“I’d like to offer you an exclusive deal,” he said. “Better than any terms I’ve proposed before. Full access to Moon Ridge trade routes. Premium contracts. The kind of partnership that would place you as the most powerful broker on the East Coast.” 

The words hung between us. 

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Chapter 19 

+25 Bonus 

It was the kind of offer I used to dream about when I was building my company from scraps–connections and leverage powerful enough to put me beyond reach. Beyond threat. 

“What’s the catch?” I asked, because there had to be one. 

Jason’s expression didn’t flicker. “No catch. Just solid business. I believe we could build something significant together.” 

His voice was even, but there was something else in his eyes. Something less about spreadsheets and more 

about me. 

I thought about Ava’s future–about recovery timelines, specialists, private therapies that weren’t covered. Numbers. Costs. A storm of impossibilities crashing down unless I found a way through. From a strictly business perspective, I couldn’t afford to keep saying no. 

“One year,” I said finally, voice flat. “I’ll agree to a one–year partnership. After that, we renegotiate.” 

For the briefest moment, relief flashed across his face. So quick it might have been imagined. “Agreed.” 

“I’ll have my lawyers draft the terms.” 

“Of course.” He pulled out his phone, checking his calendar. “Would Thursday work for signing? I can come to your office.” 

Three days. Not nearly enough time to brace myself, but no room to delay either. 

“That works,” I said, though my hands trembled under the desk. 

*** 

The moment he left, I called Riley. She picked up on the second ring, not even bothering with hello. 

“Please tell me you’re not calling me to talk about Jason again.” 

“It’s business, Riley. Nothing more.” 

“Bullshit.” Her voice was sharp enough to slice through the static. “You’ve been dodging his pack for six years. Now suddenly you’re signing contracts?” 

I looked at Ava, pale but peaceful, her small hand curled around the blanket edge. “After this year, I’m taking her somewhere else. Somewhere better for her recovery. Maybe Colorado. Fresh air. Good hospitals.” 

“Running again?” 

“Protecting my daughter. There’s a difference.” 

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