Marrying The Broke Billionaire In Disguise

The rain hammered against the thin glass of Flora's Brooklyn apartment window.

She had just taken off her damp scrubs when a heavy, desperate knock rattled her front door.

Flora walked to the door and peered through the peephole.

Josiah stood in the dimly lit hallway. He was soaked to the bone. Water dripped from his dark hair onto his shoulders. In his right hand, he gripped the handle of a battered, scuffed suitcase.

Flora threw the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Before she could ask what happened, Josiah looked up. His jaw was tight, his eyes hollow.

"My company went under," Josiah said. His voice was hoarse. "The bank seized everything. My accounts, the apartment. I have nothing."

Flora froze. Her hand gripped the doorknob so hard the metal bit into her palm. The fragile sense of security she had built over the last two days shattered into a million pieces.

Josiah swallowed hard. He lowered his head, his wet hair hiding his eyes. "Can I stay here? Just until I figure it out."

Flora looked at his shivering frame. She remembered the white roses. She remembered the text message.

Her chest tightened. She stepped aside.

"Come in," she said quietly.

Josiah dragged the suitcase over the threshold. The broken plastic wheels scraped loudly against the cheap laminate flooring.

He stood in the tiny entryway and looked around. Peeling wallpaper. A window that looked out at a brick wall. A kitchen so small he could touch both walls at once. The air smelled of old grease and damp wood.

His lungs constricted. He had never been in a place so suffocatingly small.

But he forced his facial muscles to relax. He looked at Flora and offered a weak, grateful smile. "It's cozy."

Flora's cheeks burned. She rushed to the worn-out sofa, scooping up a pile of folded laundry to make room.

"You can take the bed," Flora said, pointing to the tiny bedroom. "I'm used to the couch."

"No," Josiah said immediately. "I'll take the couch."

He reached for the laundry basket in her hands. Their fingers brushed.

Josiah's skin was warm and rough. Flora's fingers were ice-cold.

A sharp, electric jolt shot up Josiah's arm. He looked down at her pale, tired face. For the first time since he started this game, a heavy stone of guilt dropped into his stomach.

Flora pulled her hands back. She handed him a clean towel. "I'll make something to eat."

She went into the cramped kitchen. Soon, the sound of boiling water and the smell of cheap beef bouillon filled the apartment. Steam clouded the small space, softening the harsh lines of the room.

Flora set a steaming bowl of instant noodles on the wobbly coffee table.

Josiah sat on the edge of the sofa. He stared at the yellow, curly noodles. His stomach violently rejected the idea of eating it. But he picked up the cheap plastic fork and took a large bite.

The salty, artificial broth burned his throat. He swallowed it down.

"I need to ask you for a favor," Josiah said, keeping his eyes on the bowl. "I have some urgent debts. Small ones. I need to borrow some money."

Flora's chewing slowed. She set her fork down.

She thought about her bank account. She thought about the money she had starved herself to save for her health consulting business.

Josiah watched her face. He saw the panic. He saw the hesitation. He wanted her to say no. He wanted her to prove she was just like everyone else.

Flora looked him dead in the eye. "I'll figure something out. I'll help you."

Josiah's breath hitched. His fingers tightened around the plastic fork until it snapped in half.

The rain lashed against the window, but inside the apartment, the silence was deafening.

Flora stood up to take the empty bowls. Josiah watched her walk to the sink. He realized, with a sudden, terrifying clarity, that he had severely underestimated this woman.

"I'm going to take a shower," Josiah muttered, standing up abruptly.

He walked into the bathroom. The tiles were chipped. Black mold grew in the grout. The showerhead was rusted.

He turned on the cold water and stepped under the freezing spray. He let the ice-cold water shock his system, forcing himself to remember that this was just a test.

Outside the bathroom, Flora sat on the edge of the bed. She opened her banking app. She stared at the numbers.

She opened her text messages and found the number Milo had used when he pretended to be Josiah's friend.

Is it true? Did he lose everything? she typed, her thumb shaking. She hit send.