Jasmine’s whole body went still, her breath trapped in her throat. “Why would I marry someone like you? I don’t even know you.”

His eyes grew darker, his tone hard. “Would you rather stand by and watch your mother die?”

The words pierced her heart like a blade. Jasmine’s hands began to tremble. She bit her lower lip, her chest rising and falling too fast. Silence stretched between them. Finally, she whispered, “I… I need time. I need to think about it.”

Martins gave a low chuckle, though his face stayed serious. “No, Jasmine. You do not need time. But if you want to pretend to think, fine. Just remember, this stays between us.”

Her brows furrowed. “Between us? What do you mean?”

“If you agree,” he said slowly, “I will pay you two million right away. After that, four million every year, as long as you remain my wife.”

Jasmine’s head jerked up. Her eyes widened. “four… four million?" she asked, her voice breaking with disbelief.

“That is right. Four million.”

Her throat went dry. The money for the surgery. The debts. Everything could be solved. She swallowed hard. “What are the terms?”

“I will have papers prepared. You can read them before signing.”

Her lips quivered. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Martins replied, his tone sharp with warning. “But you have only two days. After that, the deal disappears.”

He rose from his chair, straightening his suit with brisk hands. “My driver will take you home.”

The moment the door shut behind him, Jasmine jumped to her feet, her heart racing. Was this real? Was this her only way out? The thought of saving her mother lit a spark of hope inside her chest.

Clutching her bag tightly, she hurried out of the house

A sleek white SUV was waiting at the curb and slowly the window rolled down to reveal a man in a tuxedo.

“Miss Jasmine?” His eyes widened and he quickly climbed out, bowing slightly. “Forgive me, ma’am. I did not realize it was you. I was asked to bring you home.”

She lifted her chin, hiding the storm of emotions inside her. “It is fine. Thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” the man said, pulling open the car door for her.

Jasmine slid into the cool leather seat. She let out a shaky breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

*****

When the SUV reached her street, Jasmine stepped out quickly. She wanted to be alone, to clear her head. Her thoughts spun wildly—her mother, the money, the proposal.

She stood outside her apartment for a moment, pressing her hand to her chest. “I just need time to think,” she whispered to herself.

Before she could turn her key in the lock, a shadow moved. It was swift, almost unnoticeable. A rough hand clamped suddenly over her mouth. She tried to scream, but her voice was swallowed in the darkness.

“Stay quiet,” a man hissed.

Her heart thundered. She kicked, she fought, but another man grabbed her arms. They dragged her into a dark van waiting by the corner then the door slammed shut.

Tears blurred her sight as fear closed around her. “Please! Please let me go!” she begged.

One of the men sneered. “Not until we get what we want.”

They drove in silence, their hard gaze keeping Jasmine in check. Finally, the van halted in front of a building. They dragged her out and into the desecrated house.

“Sit!”

Jasmine did as instructed, shivering. She sat on the cold floors, soft prayers trailing from her lips.

Her phone was still in her pocket where she had left it. Her fingers shook violently as she fumbled for it, praying they wouldn’t notice. Somehow, she dialed Martin's phone.

The line connected, thankfully.

“Help me!” she cried, her voice breaking.

“Jasmine?” His voice was sharp with alarm. “Where are you?”

Her words tumbled out fast, panicked. “Twelfth house… Twelfth Avenue—” She managed to say, her breath, bated.

A man’s angry voice shouted beside her. “What are you doing?”

He yanked the phone from her hand and disconnected the call.

Martins was already on his feet. His heart pounded as he grabbed his keys. Without a second thought, he dashed into his car. The engine roared as he pressed the accelerator hard.

Fifteen minutes later, he halted as he caught sight of a small house on Twelfth Avenue

He had only stood a few seconds when he heard her voice.

“Help! Please help me!”

His blood ran hot. “Jasmine!” he shouted, storming inside. A gun remained in his hand, cocked and ready to be fired.

The sight froze him in place. Six men stood in the room, their eyes cold, their guns raised.

Martins’ pulse hammered as the air grew thick with danger.

“Sir Martins.” One man stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence. Martins’ eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

The men glanced at each other. Slowly, masks dropped.

Martins’ jaw tightened. “Marshal?”

The man lowered his gaze in shame, one so heavy he couldn't bring himself to look at Martins.

Jasmine gasped, eyes darting between them. “You… you know these men?”

Martins’ voice thundered. “What are you doing here with her?”

Marshal’s lips trembled. “She owes us money and we had gone to meet her to collect it, but she said she has none.”

Martins’ eyes blazed with anger. “So you would harm her? Touch her?” His voice cracked like a whip.

The room went silent. It was deafening, murderous too.

“Tomorrow morning,” Martins growled, “all of you will meet me in my office. Now get out of my sight before I destroy you.”

The men scrambled out, shame heavy on their backs.

The house fell quiet. Jasmine trembled, her tears spilling freely. Martins caught her in his arms, pulling her close.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gently.

She shook her head, her voice weak. “No… but if you hadn’t come—” Her words broke. “God knows what they would have done.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “But… how do you know them?”

Martins hesitated, then admitted, “I fund Marshal’s business. Most of what he runs comes from me.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. She did not know what to say. Tears streamed freely down her face as she remained still.

He stepped closer until their faces were only inches apart.

“Martins…” Jasmine breathed.

He touched her lips gently with his finger. “Do not thank me yet, my wife.”

Her body stiffened. She pulled back slightly. “We are not married. I have not signed anything.”

“But you will, won’t you?” he pressed.

She said nothing. Her eyes moved away nervously.

Suddenly, his hands gripped her waist, pulling her close. Her breath caught as she stumbled against his chest.

“What about a kiss?” he whispered.

“Martins… no…” She gasped as his lips brushed her neck. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he murmured, kissing her again.

Her heart raced. “We should not. This is not right.”

“Then tell me to stop,” Martins said softly. “Tell me you don’t want it, and I will stop.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She breathed hard, trembling. “Why are you silent, Jasmine?” his voice asked, calm but firm.

Her answer came in a broken whisper. “Martins, please…”

A smile tugged at his lips. He heard the surrender in her voice.