Rose

“Your condition is worsening.”

I sighed, wiping down the café table with slow, tired strokes. This morning, Asher had taken me to the hospital, where the doctors confirmed what I had been dreading: my condition was getting worse, and soon I would need an operation.

They had said it so easily. Just a minor procedure. Nothing to worry about.

But operations weren’t just about scalpels and recovery. They were about money. And money was something I barely had.

Whoever had once said health is wealth must have been a fool. In today’s world, it is the other way around, i.e., health needs wealth.

My expenses were already suffocating me: therapy, diagnoses, psychiatric medication, painkillers, bills, and food. One job, no matter how many shifts I worked, could never sustain it all. An operation was simply out of reach.

“That’s all for today, honey. You can go now.”

Martha’s cheerful voice broke my thoughts. I turned to her, forcing a tired smile, then quickly made my way to the staff room. I removed my apron, grabbed my bag, and left.

The cool evening air greeted me as I stepped out of the café. My eyes landed immediately on the sleek, black Porsche parked at the corner.

I told myself to ignore it. Pretend it wasn’t there. But when the man stepped out, ignoring him became impossible.

My ex-husband.

Hades Knight.

Dressed in all black, he looked every inch the man I remembered, tall, commanding, devastatingly handsome. His lips curled into a smirk as he ran a hand through his jet-black hair.

He closed the distance between us easily, towering over my 5’3” frame, his presence swallowing the street.

“Good evening, my love,” he said softly, blue eyes shimmering with something like adoration.

I felt nothing. Just emptiness.

“Evening,” I replied flatly, my voice lifeless. Depression was like a black hole; it sucked everything from me until nothing was left.

“Actually…” he began, but I cut him off, unwilling to hear his voice say more.

“See, Mr. Knight, it’s sunset. I need to reach home before it’s dark.”

His chuckle was low, amused. “Aw, is my wife afraid of the dark?”

“I am not your wife.” My voice cracked with exhaustion as I snapped at him.

For a fleeting second, hurt flickered in his eyes. But he masked it quickly, that charming, unreadable facade slipping back into place.

“Well,” he murmured, rubbing his fingers along his sharp jawline the way he always did when thinking, “it’ll be dark in ten minutes. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s a twenty-minute walk to your house.”

I cursed silently. Wasting time with him meant losing the race against the sun.

“Then I guess I’ll jog home,” I muttered, turning on my heel.

But before I could take a step, his hand closed around mine.

I flinched violently at the contact. Even now, after everything, touch was dangerous. Too close. Too familiar. Even with Asher, I couldn’t always handle it.

Hades must have seen it because guilt flashed briefly in his expression before curiosity took its place.

I groaned. “What?”

“I’ll drive you home. There’s something I want to discuss with you.” His voice was calm, polite, too polite. Then his expression hardened. “And don’t even think of saying no. Otherwise, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and put you in the car myself.”

The husky warning in his tone sent a shiver racing down my spine. I couldn’t tell if it was fear… or something else.

I knew he was capable of it. He had done it before.

And with the sun sinking fast, I didn’t dare to risk the walk. With a reluctant nod, I followed him to the Porsche.

He opened the door with old-fashioned courtesy, and I slid in, my body tense.

The car hummed to life, and we drove in silence for several minutes. Then I noticed.

“This isn’t the way to my home,” I said quickly.

His lips curved into that infuriating smile. “This way’s better, less traffic. And it gives me more time with you. Trust me.”

My chest tightened. “I already paid for trusting you once,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

But he heard. His voice softened, regret shadowing his features. “My flower…”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “Don’t talk about the past. It only brings the monsters back.”

The car stopped.

I blinked, startled, and looked up. An ice cream parlor.

“Ice cream,” he said simply, flashing that breathtaking smile.

He knew me too well. Ice cream was my weakness. Before I could argue, he was already at my side, opening the door for me.

For the first time since moving to New York, I stepped into the night.

Is this okay?
Will something go wrong?
It’s beautiful.
What if they find me?
The city lights shimmer.

The thoughts spun in my head, suffocating me.

A cool breeze brushed over me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around myself.

Then… warmth.

A heavy jacket settled across my shoulders. I looked at Hades, confused.

“What kind of husband would I be if I left my flower cold?” he said softly.

“We’re divorced,” I reminded him, my voice flat, as we walked inside.

Still, I clutched the jacket, burying my hands in its sleeves, letting the warmth sink into my chilled skin. It smelled of him, dew and musk. Against my better judgment, I whispered, “Thank you.”

We each picked our flavors, cookie dough for me, chocolate for him and found an empty booth.

I could feel eyes on him. Women staring. But his gaze never left me, as if searching for something I wasn’t ready to give.

“You never feared the dark before,” he said suddenly, his tone serious. “Why now?”

I froze. Words caught in my throat.

How could I tell him the truth? That it wasn’t the dark I feared, but the monsters who lived in it.

It had been one of those nights.

No, Rose. Don’t go there.

I forced a brittle smile. “Why are you even here, Hades, when you know I have a boyfriend?”

His lips twitched into a mocking grin. “Really? A boyfriend?”

Before I could answer, he leaned in, his blue eyes gleaming. “Asher Lockwoods. Twenty-eight. Works in publishing. Mother’s name, Samantha Lockwoods. And, interestingly enough, he’s gay.”

My blood ran cold. “H-how do you… ?”

He smirked. “Don’t forget, baby that being rich comes with perks. I have my resources.”

My frustration boiled over. “What do you want, Hades?”

His answer was simple, unflinching.

“You.”

The word was husky, deliberate. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I quickly buried my face in my hands.

“Don’t hide from me,” he chuckled. “You know I love it when you blush.”

But his laughter only unleashed memories I had fought to bury.

You slut.
Filthy woman.
Get out.

My face went cold. My voice steadied into a whisper, sharp and final.

“I am not your wife anymore. We are divorced. I want nothing to do with you. Leave me alone.”

For once, he sighed. But the softness didn’t last. Mischief sparked in his eyes as his lips curved.

“I think it’s time,” he said slowly, “to make a deal.”

Oh no.