Chapter 2

Heather looked at the man, who was asleep on the bed, in the VIP ward of the hospital. When his eyes were closed, his overwhelming presence faded. He lay face down on the pillow with his guard completely down. His flawless face wasn't boyish or overly mature. He seemed bright and warm, the kind of person who made others feel comfortable just being in his presence. It was no wonder global magazines had crowned him "a god among mortals." Even though she had devoted herself entirely to Devon in her previous life, she had heard of him. The man was Micah Truman, the head of the most affluent family in Baleigh and the CEO of Truman Holdings. Devon was nothing compared to him. Devon had tried to enter Baleigh's market in her previous life. Yet, he had run headfirst into Truman Holdings and had suffered setback after setback. In the end, he had been forced to retreat and stay in Metrovale. Before long, Micah opened his eyes. The commanding presence he was born with wrapped around her, and Heather's eyes were drawn to him before she even realized it. His deep eyes landed on her face before he narrowed them. "It's you…" His voice was deep and magnetic, like music to her ears. "Do you know me?" Heather was slightly taken aback. Micah averted his gaze and fell silent. It seemed she had forgotten about him. Heather fell into deep thought and came up with her own answers. Esme had made sure the internet was full of her scandals in her previous life. Given how developed the internet was, it was only normal for Micah to know who she was. Oh, well. It saved her the trouble of introducing herself. Heather lowered her gaze and deftly removed the silver needles from his arm. "You fainted, and I saved you." Micah was caught off guard. He quietly assessed his condition and realized the restlessness in his chest had subsided significantly. He shifted his attention back to Heather and said sincerely, "Thank you for saving me. I—" "How do you plan to repay me?" she cut him off apathetically. For a split second, she seemed a little awkward. It was her first time extorting someone. Micah was taken aback. Multiple emotions swirled in his eyes as he inquired, "Are you asking me to repay you for saving my life?" His beautiful, star-like eyes even carried a hint of disbelief. Heather was a little weirded out by his reaction. "Don't you know that it's only right for you to repay your lifesaver? Are you playing dumb right now, Mr. Truman?" "The one who's playing dumb right now is you." "I'm… playing dumb?" Heather was perplexed when she noticed the man's expression become stoic and businesslike. "Name your condition." "I want 500 million dollars," she uttered. Devon was vindictive to the core, and the Harlans were among the most affluent families in Metrovale at the time. If she wanted to break free and exact revenge, she needed a lot of money. This wasn't much in comparison to the life of a trillionaire tycoon. "500 million dollars…" he reiterated slowly, his brows knitting together. So, she had saved him for money. "If you were going to extort me, you should have done it before saving me. That way, you'd actually have leverage." "Leverage? I don't play those kinds of tricks." Her expression hardened as she explained, "I would have saved you no matter what. I'm only asking you to repay me because I have an emergency… "If the CEO of Truman Holdings wishes to repay a life-saving favor with nothing more than a verbal thank you, I can't do anything about it either." Heather had never asked for anything in return after saving someone. However, after being reborn with a losing hand, she had no foundation, no safety net, and nowhere to turn. When he remained silent, she shook her head, as she couldn't be bothered to waste her breath on him any longer. She picked up the gauze beside her and started bandaging her own forehead. Micah's illness was strange. He was right on the edge of death. To save him, she had neglected herself and worked nonstop until now; she even used the rare medicinal herbs she had kept hidden away. Those were left to her by her mother before she passed away. Heather was soaked to the bone and shivering. Noticing the lack of color in her face and the dark shadows under her bright eyes, he pressed his lips into a thin line. He realized she had neglected herself and focused entirely on saving him. Just then, his phone lit up. He had received a voice message from his grandmother, Zoey King. He didn't have to play it to know what it was about. More voice messages followed, each a minute long, like relentless reminders. Micah glanced at the woman's cool, slender back. Compared to those who wanted money from him while pretending to be noble and scheming against him behind his back, he preferred working with someone direct and honest. "I'll give you 500 million dollars. But you'll have to accept one condition of mine." "What's your condition?" "I need a fake fiancée." He wanted a contractual marriage? Her forehead creased in a heartbeat. What a hassle. Heather was about to refuse when Micah continued, "I only need you to play the part for a month. Its sole purpose is to put my grandmother at ease so she can go abroad for treatment. "Don't worry. There'll be no legal registration, no physical contact, and no public disclosure. Your reputation won't be affected, and you won't be inconvenienced in any way. "Rather than a contract marriage, think of it as paid acting. I'm hiring you to play a role. I know you need this money urgently, and I'm offering the fastest solution, at the lowest cost, with the highest return." Right after saying that, he leaned forward slightly. His deep gaze narrowed as he studied her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He eyed her as if the outcome was already decided. Heather had to give it to the youngest head of the Truman family. He read her like a book and had almost addressed all of her concerns. Hence, she wavered. He was right. However, she'd learned from her lesson after being caught between Devon and Esme in her previous life. As such, she didn't want to be dragged into that kind of mess in this life. Sensing her hesitation, he pressed. "Do you still have concerns, Ms. Lovegood?" Heather lifted her gaze to meet his searching gaze. "I have no desire to help you fend off other women, public scrutiny, or family pressure, and I refuse to be dragged into the mess you created with your past or present lovers." "I don't have any romantic history. So, you don't have to worry about that," he explained as soon as her words fell. "You and I will be business partners. Nothing more." Love and marriage were both irrational. The wise would never fall in love. "Alright. That works for me." Heather nodded, though she still had a doubt. "But why did you choose me?" Micah's eyes darkened as he extended his hand. "So, it's a deal?" Heather lowered her gaze slightly. Since she had agreed to cooperate, there was no need to press him for his reasons. "Here's to a smooth partnership," she said after shaking his hand. The moment their fingers intertwined, she realized how warm and broad his hand was. It was also slightly familiar. Micah looked down at their joined hands. Hers was cold, almost lifeless. What had she been through all these years? Just then, the door flung open. His assistant, Jonathan Pierce, rushed in. "Mr. Truman, are you alright? What are you two—" He froze when he witnessed this scene. His eyes widened, and his jaw nearly dropped. His boss, who was supposedly gay, was now holding a woman's hand. Moreover, he still hadn't let go of her. Heather glanced at Jonathan, hastily withdrew her hand, and pulled a slip of paper from her pocket before handing it to Micah. "I should go. Don't forget our deal." With that, she turned to leave. When she walked past Jonathan, she reminded him, "He's extremely weak right now. Give him two doses of a strengthening, calming decoction and keep him under observation for 12 hours." "I will." Her voice was soft, but it left no room for refusal. Jonathan responded instinctively and froze the moment those words left his mouth. Why am I being so obedient? "Jonathan." Micah fiddled with the slip of paper in his hand. It held a phone number and a bank account. "Look into her." "I'm on it. What about the decoction?" Over the years, Micah had only ever taken medication prescribed by the miracle doctor, John Miller. "Do as you're told."