Fake Marriage To The Undercover Boss

Emaline took the stairs two at a time. The flickering fluorescent light on the third floor buzzed like an angry hornet. Her lungs burned by the time she shoved her key into the lock and threw the door open.

The apartment was dark. A single lamp glowed weakly in the cramped kitchen.

Leo was pacing the worn living room rug. When he saw her, he rushed forward. His hands flew in a frantic sequence of signs.

Dad is in the bedroom. He will not take his pills. He says the hospital is a waste of money.

Emaline dropped her purse on the sofa. The heavy thud of the cash hidden inside it made her stomach clench.

She walked straight to the bedroom.

The door was cracked open. She pushed it wide.

Walter Finley lay flat on his back on the narrow bed. His skin was the color of old ash. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rattling gasps. On the nightstand, a plastic cup of water and a row of orange pill bottles sat untouched.

Walter opened his eyes. He saw Emaline standing in the doorway. Guilt flashed in his sunken eyes, but his jaw set in a stubborn line. He turned his head away, staring at the peeling wallpaper.

Emaline walked to the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees on the hardwood floor.

She reached out and took his hand. His skin was freezing.

"Dad," Emaline said, her voice cracking. "Why did you leave?"

Walter coughed. The sound was wet and weak. "I am fine here," he rasped. "The hospital is too expensive, Emmy. We cannot afford it."

"I will find the money," Emaline pleaded, squeezing his cold fingers. "You cannot just give up!"

Walter pulled his hand out of her grip. The rejection felt like a knife to her chest.

"I will not let you and Leo drown in debt for a dying man," Walter said firmly. "If I am going to go, I am going to do it here."

Emaline's throat closed up. Swallowing felt like swallowing glass. She knew that stubborn tone. He had made up his mind to die so they could live.

Her mind raced. She thought of the thick stack of cash sitting in her purse in the other room. But she could not tell him she took money from a stranger in a hired sedan. He would never accept it.

"Dad," Emaline started, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I went on a date tonight. I met someone. He... he wants to help us."

Walter turned his head back to look at her. His gray eyebrows pulled together in suspicion.

"Help us?" Walter asked. "Who is he? Why would a stranger pay my bills?"

Emaline opened her mouth to lie, but her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

She pulled it out. A text message lit up the screen from the number on the business card Cullen had given her.

I am sending a doctor to your apartment tomorrow morning. Do not worry about the cost. - Cullen

Emaline stared at the screen. Her blood ran cold. How did he know her apartment number? How could he arrange a doctor so fast?

She looked back at her father.

"It is a charity program," Emaline lied smoothly, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. "He works for a foundation. They fund medical treatments for low-income families."

Walter stared at her, searching her face for the truth. "There is no such thing as free money, Emmy."

"Just let the doctor look at you tomorrow," Emaline begged. "Please, Dad. Just try."

Walter looked at her desperate, tear-stained face. His shoulders sagged into the mattress. He gave a single, exhausted nod.

Emaline let out a shaky breath. She stood up, kissed his forehead, and walked out of the room.

She gestured for Leo to go in and make sure Walter drank some water.

Emaline walked out onto the tiny, rusted fire escape balcony. The freezing wind whipped her hair across her face.

She dialed the number from the text message.

Cullen answered on the first ring. His voice was wide awake.

"How did you know my exact address?" Emaline demanded, keeping her voice to a harsh whisper.

"You got in my car," Cullen said calmly. "The car service driver put it in the GPS when you told him the cross streets."

The explanation made perfect sense, but it did not settle the twisting in her gut.

"About your proposal," Emaline said, gripping the cold iron railing. "I need to know the details. And... thank you for the doctor."

"We will talk after the doctor sees him," Cullen replied. "Get some sleep, Emaline."

The line went dead.

Emaline lowered the phone. She reached into her pocket and touched the outline of the thick wad of cash through the fabric of her purse. For the first time in months, she felt a terrifying spark of hope.

She had to do this. Whatever Cullen Preston wanted, she was going to give it to him.