Aria's POV
"Did you hear what she did?"
I froze in the hallway outside my dorm room, heart hammering. Two of my classmates—Britt and Selena—huddled by their lockers, voices pitched low but sharp as knives.
"Virginity for sale," Britt whispered, smirking. "One hundred thousand dollars. Can you believe she'd stoop that low?"
"She's trash," Selena agreed. "And she thinks she can strut around campus now like she's some big deal?"
Their laughter ricocheted off the lockers. My cheeks burned and my knees threatened to buckle. I pressed my hands against the cool metal and closed my eyes.
They don't know.
I crept past them, head down, clutching my books like a shield. My footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor as I fled the gossip, the shame, the weight of their judgment.
When I reached the stairwell, I didn't hesitate. I burst through the door and sprinted down three flights, two, one—my heart racing so fast I thought it might burst. At the ground level, I paused to catch my breath. Outside, the late afternoon sun glared down, mocking me with its brightness.
I needed to call Damon. Needed to hear his voice, to know this wasn't a mistake. I darted across the quad toward the lone phone booth near the science building—a relic from the nineties, but still functional.
I slid inside and shut the glass door. The booth smelled faintly of mildew and old cigarette smoke. I dropped into the rickety seat, yanked the handset off the hook, and dialed his number with trembling fingers.
But as I leaned back, the seat cracked beneath me. The metal hinges gave way with a violent snap, and the world tilted.
"Ah!"
My body hit the floor of the booth with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind my closed eyes, and my head jolted against the cold phone jack. My grip on the handset loosened and it clattered to the floor.
I tried to push up but pain lanced through my ribs. The booth door banged open.
"Aria!"
Maya Lin's face swam into view, panic etched in every line. "Are you okay?"
"I—I'm fine," I gasped, but the words came out slurred. My vision blurred.
Her phone was already in her hand. "I'm calling an ambulance."
I felt her lift me to my feet, then—I swear—blackness.
The roar of a siren. Fluorescent lights painting everything in sickly white. The antiseptic sting in my nose.
"Aria? Can you hear me?" A woman's voice, calm and clipped.
I blinked. A nurse hovered beside me, clipboard in hand. I was strapped onto a gurney, hospital gown open at the shoulders.
"What… happened?" My throat was raw.
"You collapsed in that phone booth," the nurse said. "You're lucky we got to you fast."
I tried to sit up. Sharp pain flared across my side. I winced and sank back down.
"Don't move."
The nurse checked my IV line. "You suffered a mild concussion and a cracked rib. We'll take an X-ray and monitor you overnight."
The door whooshed open and Maya swept into the room, eyes wide and red-rimmed. She knelt beside me. "Oh my God, Aria."
I tried to smile past the pain. "I'm okay."
She pressed my hand. "You scared me half to death."
My phone buzzed against the bedrail. I squinted at the screen—Damon Westin calling.
"Maya—can you…?" I raised my hand weakly.
She nodded and handed me the handset.
"Aria?" Damon's voice crackled through the speaker. Concern laced every syllable.
"I'm… in the hospital."
"You're in St. Vincent's?" His tone hardened. "What happened?"
"I…sat in a phone booth. It collapsed." Pain shot through me as I shifted.
"Damn phone booths." He paused. "Listen, rest. I'll send someone with your things."
I swallowed. "Thank you." My vision flickered.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly. "I have something to discuss with you—a job opportunity."
A job? My heart stuttered. "Okay."
"Get some sleep." He clicked off.
Maya squeezed my hand. "He sounded… worried."
"He did." Relief wrapped around me. For the first time in days, I felt less alone.
A doctor entered then—Dr. Moore, Lila's surgeon. Compassion softened her eyes behind the mask. "I'm checking on you before I go to the OR."
My heart lurched. "Is Lila—?"
Dr. Moore paused, throat tight. "She had another fainting spell. We rushed her in fifteen minutes ago. She's under sedation, but we're stabilizing her."
My chest constricted. "Will she be okay?"
Dr. Moore laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "She's strong, like you. We're doing everything we can."
I closed my eyes. Maya's tears fell onto the sheet beside me.
Night bled into morning. The fluorescent lights dimmed as the ER nurses changed shifts. I drifted between dozing and waking, haunted by the memory of Damon's voice and the sight of Lila unconscious on her hospital bed.
When I opened my eyes again, a bouquet of white lilies sat on the bedside table, and a slender arm reached across to pat my hand.
It was Maya.
She offered me a thermos of tea. "Drink."
I took a cautious sip. The warmth soothed my throat. "Thanks."
She hesitated, then spoke softly. "Damon came by."
My heart lurched. "He did?"
Maya nodded. "He brought you this." She lifted a small envelope from behind the flowers.
I snatched it open. Inside was a handwritten card:
> Rest, Aria. I'll see you at Westin Industries tomorrow. – D.
And tucked beneath was a crisp letter of employment—cover letter, scant details—offering me the role of Executive Secretary at Westin Industries, starting next week, salary generous, benefits comprehensive.
My breath caught. A job. The stability I'd craved since that night in the hotel suite.
But everything had changed. I was no longer just a college student with a desperate plan. I was the woman who'd sold her virginity to a billionaire—and now he wanted me by his side every day.
"Why would he do that?" I whispered, voice raw.
Maya's eyes shimmered. "Maybe he… cares."
A tremor of hope ignited in my chest.
Before I could answer, the door slid open and two orderlies wheeled a second gurney into the room.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst.
On the stretcher lay Lila—pale, unconscious, hooked to machines. Her chest rose and fell in shallow rhythm.
I bolted upright. "Lila!"
Maya jumped up and rushed to her sister's side. The orderlies parked the gurney. Dr. Moore followed, her mask pulled down.
Dr. Moore met my eyes. "It's time."
Time for what? My pulse raced.
"Aria," Maya whispered. "You need to go with her."
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. My world narrowed to that frail form on the stretcher—my sister, the reason I'd done everything I'd done.
As Maya and I moved to surround Lila, a masked nurse approached with a clipboard.
"Consent signature, please."
My hand shook as I signed the form. Beneath the print, where it read Patient's Sister and Guardian, I wrote Aria Harper.
My sister's life was quite literally in my hands.
The nurse gave me a small nod. "We'll see you in recovery."
I swallowed. "Thank you."
Lila's eyes fluttered beneath her lids. I bent down and brushed her hair back. "I'm here, baby girl. I've got you."
The doors swung shut behind her. The hallway echoed with the tumble of wheeled machinery.
I turned to Maya, voice trembling. "What if something goes wrong?"
Maya reached out, brushing a tear from my cheek. "She's strong. And you're stronger."
We stood in the silent room, two orphaned sisters clinging to hope. And beyond the walls of St. Vincent's, a new chapter of my life awaited—one that would bind me to Damon Westin in ways I couldn't yet imagine.
In my clutch, I still held his letter: the job offer, my ticket out of desperation, my lifeline.
But as the respirator hummed in the next room, I realized that money, status, even love, couldn't guarantee what I truly needed—a miracle for Lila.