The door creaked open, dragging loudly across the old floor like it always did. Selina didn’t care. She kicked it shut behind her, breathing hard. Her shoes squeaked as she almost slipped. Her heart was racing in her chest.

The apartment looked the same as always. A mess. Laundry piled near the heater, wet and forgotten. Coffee grounds dried in the sink, turning into something gross. But none of that mattered tonight.

Not when her fingers were still gripping the envelope so tightly.

Her hair was stuck to her cheeks, still damp from the heat at the bar. But she felt alive. Really alive. For the first time in weeks, maybe months. Her cheeks were pink, and her hazel eyes were wide and shining. She looked like someone who had just stepped out of a dream.

Grace was half asleep on the couch, one leg thrown over the armrest. She had an old leather jacket over her like a blanket. Her phone was in one hand, and an apple core rested on her thigh. She looked up, not fully awake.

"Took you long enough," she muttered without really looking.

Selina dropped the envelope onto the table. It landed with a heavy thud.

"You’re not gonna believe this," she said, her words rushing out too fast. She was already pacing, her voice way too loud for the small room. "The Anchor? It’s done. Joey fired me. Right there. All because some rich guy grabbed my ass and I slapped him."

Grace jerked up immediately. "Wait. What?"

"He didn’t even ask what happened. Just started yelling like I burned the place down." Selina let out a short laugh, breathless and sharp. "But that’s not even the crazy part."

She grabbed the envelope again and held it up.

"This guy, Damian Blackwood, he saw the whole thing. Didn’t say a word at first. But later, he found me outside and offered me a job. Just like that. Out of nowhere. At this private bar. Grace, I’m talking marble floors, velvet walls, chandeliers. And the tips…"

Selina was spiraling, her excitement finally bursting out like steam from a boiling kettle. Her eyes were wide and glowing, her hands flying in the air as she spoke, pacing the tiny living room like she couldn't stand still.

She ripped open the envelope. Her hands shook as she spilled the money onto the table. The bills looked wrong sitting there. Too clean, too crisp, against the sticky, scratched-up wood.

"This is from one shift. One night. Enough to pay for Ethan’s next meds. Maybe even more."

Grace was quiet. Her eyes moved from the money to Selina.

"Blackwood?" she asked softly. "Sel, I’ve heard stuff. That guy’s not normal."

Selina dropped to her knees beside her. She grabbed Grace’s hands.

"He’s strange, yeah. He stares too much, and he doesn’t talk a lot. But he’s not scary. He’s just rich. That’s all. I didn’t see anything shady. Just a bunch of rich people in fancy clothes drinking things I can’t even pronounce."

Grace’s fingers twitched. Her jaw stayed tight. She didn’t look convinced. But Selina suddenly laughed. Loud. A little crazy. A little happy. And finally, Grace smiled. A real one, small but there.

"You’re insane," Grace whispered.

"I know!" Selina grinned, wrapping her arms around her. They hugged tightly on the couch. The envelope crinkled beneath them. Ethan’s name was in the air between them, unspoken but heavy.

The next evening, the bar looked unreal. Everything shimmered. The lights. The floors. Even the people.

Selina moved behind the bar in her new uniform. The fabric was soft and smooth, not like anything she was used to. Her hands were steady, even though her feet were already sore. The whole place smelled expensive. Even the orchids in the glass vases looked too perfect to be real.

She poured a martini. The glass was cold and clean in her hand. She slid it across the counter to a man wearing a tie that probably cost more than her rent. He gave her the smallest nod.

Mia leaned over beside her, grinning. Her lip ring sparkled under the lights.

"Keep them happy. They tip like crazy," she whispered.

Selina smiled back. Her heart felt lighter than it had in forever. She thought of Grace. Of coffee that didn’t taste like cardboard. Of Ethan maybe laughing again. She didn’t know the tune, but she hummed anyway as she wiped the bar, like she had always worked there.

Then her phone buzzed.

She glanced down. The screen flashed: Hospital.

Her stomach flipped. Her hand slipped, and the martini glass she was holding fell.

It shattered against the marble floor with a sharp, awful sound.

She grabbed the phone quickly. Her hands were wet with spilled drink.

"Selina Moreau?" The voice on the phone was hard and serious. "It’s urgent. Your brother. He’s reacting badly to the new medicine. He’s coughing up blood. You need to come now."

Her whole body froze.

She dropped the phone and backed away from it, heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. Her eyes went wide, and her legs gave out beneath her. She hit the floor hard, hands scraping across broken glass, but she didn’t even feel the pain. She was too busy trying to breathe, trying to understand what she had just heard.

Mia called her name, but Selina was already moving. She pushed through the bar doors, her hands leaving red smears behind her. The cold air outside slapped her face, and she didn’t even notice the man calling after her.

"Selina," Damian said, catching her arm just before she could fall again.

She barely saw him. Just the coat. The pale eyes. The stillness.

She was crying now. Ugly, messy crying. "The hospital. My brother. He’s, he’s"

She couldn’t get the words out. Her chest hurt so much she thought it would crack.

Damian didn’t say anything. He just led her to his car.

She sat there, shaking. Her hands were covered in blood. Her thoughts were crashing into each other. Sirens. Breathing. Panic.

The hospital came into view too fast, a blur of sirens and cold light. Selina was out of the car before it even stopped, legs flying, shoes slipping on the polished floor as she ran through the front doors.

The hallways smelled like metal and medicine. Machines beeped all around.

Ethan looked small. Too small. His skin was pale. There was blood on his lips. Tubes everywhere.

Dr. Patel met her at the door. "It’s bad," he said gently. "His liver’s failing. If we don’t operate now,"

He didn’t finish his words. He didn’t need to.

Selina’s voice cracked. “How much?”

Dr. Patel hesitated for a moment, then said, “Fifty thousand.”

Selina dropped to her knees, grabbing Ethan’s hand, not caring that her own was still bleeding. She smeared blood across his arm, trembling.

“I don’t have it,” she whispered. “Please. I don’t…”

Her sobs rose up and shook the whole bed.

Behind her, Damian stepped forward.

“Do it,” he said.

Dr. Patel turned to him, blinking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now.”

There was no hesitation in his voice.

Nurses moved quickly, wheeling Ethan away down a hall that suddenly felt a mile long.

Selina stood, shaky, her face soaked in tears. She turned to Damian, confused, stunned.

“Why?” she breathed.

“I’ll pay it back,” she added quickly, desperation spilling out. “All of it. I’ll work nonstop. I’ll figure something out. I swear.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Marry me.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and impossible.

Selina stared at him, her jaw falling open, blood still dripping from her hands.

“What?” she whispered.

Everything went still. Somewhere down that hallway, Ethan was fighting for his life.

And in front of her stood the man who had just saved him.

Not asking for money.

Not asking for thanks.

Asking for her.