PART 1: A BOLD PROPOSAL

Chapter 1: The Room of Death

The clock on the wall struck exactly midnight. Outside, a Nor’easter storm was ravaging the Long Island coast, turning Thorne Manor into an isolated fortress amidst sheets of white rain and the roar of crashing waves.

In the largest master bedroom, reeking of antiseptic and decay, Alistair Thorne lay waiting for death.

At 38, Alistair owned a multi-billion dollar tech empire, but now, he only owned a broken body. A strange illness had been consuming him for the past six months. The world’s top doctors were baffled, labeling it a rare neurodegenerative disorder. He couldn’t walk, struggled to breathe, and those ash-gray eyes that once terrified Wall Street now held only exhaustion and bitterness.

“Vultures…” Alistair wheezed, staring into the dark void. He knew that just outside that door, his half-brother Julian and his brazen stepmother were counting down the hours, waiting for him to draw his last breath so they could tear apart his will.

The door creaked open softly. No knock.

Alistair frowned. The night nurse had fallen asleep (or been bribed to ignore his pain). Who would dare enter at this hour?

A petite figure stepped in. Lightning from the window illuminated the girl’s face. It was Elara Vance, the maid hired just three weeks ago. Only 23, with large hazel eyes that always looked down at the floor whenever she crossed his path. The butler said she was a country girl, innocent and devout, a rare “virgin” in this world full of lust and calculation.

But tonight, Elara didn’t look at the floor. She looked straight at him. And she wasn’t wearing the baggy maid uniform. She wore a simple white shirt and jeans, holding a small tray.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alistair tried to growl, but it only came out as a groan. “Get out.”

Elara didn’t answer immediately. She gently closed the door and locked it. That action stirred a vague fear in Alistair. Was she here to finish him off?

Elara walked to the bed and set the tray on the table. There was no poison on it, only a glass of water and a stack of papers.

“Mr. Thorne,” her voice trembled, but her gaze was strangely steady. “I have come to make a proposal.”

“A proposal?” Alistair scoffed, a dry cough tearing through his chest. “What do you want? Money? Or do you want to climb into my bed before I die to gain some status?”

Elara’s face flushed, but she stood her ground. “I know you aren’t sick, sir. You are being poisoned.”

The room fell into silence. Only the rasp of the ventilator and the thunder booming outside remained.

Alistair narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”

“I saw it,” Elara whispered, stepping closer. “I saw Julian switching your heart medication. Not once. But every day. He replaces the Digoxin with another clear liquid. I snuck some out and had it tested at a free clinic in town. It’s diluted arsenic.”

Alistair’s heart pounded. Arsenic. A classic poison, accumulating gradually, causing symptoms identical to neurodegeneration.

“Why are you telling me?” Alistair asked, his suspicion not yet fading. “Why not call the police?”

“Because the local sheriff plays golf with Julian every weekend,” Elara replied quickly. “And because I need money. A lot of money.”

“Ah,” Alistair exhaled. “Finally showing your true colors. How much?”

“500,000 dollars,” Elara said, her voice choking up. “My brother needs urgent kidney transplant surgery. I need cash, and I need your protection from Julian when he finds out I know the truth.”

“Done,” Alistair said without hesitation. 500 grand was pocket change to him. “Get my phone… call my lawyer…”

But just as he tried to lift his hand, a sharp, agonizing pain, worse than any before, squeezed his heart.

Alistair’s chest tightened. His eyes rolled back. His body convulsed violently on the bed.

“Mr. Thorne!” Elara screamed.

Alistair tried to inhale, but the air seemed to have vanished. His throat constricted. Darkness descended rapidly. This was it. Julian had upped the dose. He wanted him dead tonight.

“No… no…” Alistair thought, desperation rising. He knew the truth, but he was dying before he could do anything.

His consciousness faded. He felt his soul leaving this cold body.

And then, a soft warmth rushed in.

Chapter 2: The Kiss of Life

Elara was in absolute panic. The heart monitor screamed with the shrill sound of cardiac arrest. Peeeeeeeep.

She wasn’t just an ordinary maid. She was a final-year medical student, forced to drop out due to family bankruptcy. She knew exactly what was happening.

“You can’t die! You are not allowed to die yet!” Elara shouted.

She jumped onto the bed, kneeling beside Alistair’s large but emaciated frame. She placed both hands on his chest and began to compress hard.

One, two, three, four…

“Breathe! Breathe, you idiot!”

Elara tilted Alistair’s head back, lifting his chin. She took a deep breath, then pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a romantic kiss. It was desperation. His lips were cold and blue. She blew a strong breath into his lungs, watched his chest rise, then resumed chest compressions.

Elara’s tears fell onto Alistair’s cheek. She was scared. If he died, Julian would take power, and she would be the first one he eliminated because she knew too much. And her brother would die.

She breathed into him a second time. This time, she felt a slight response. A small shudder.

“Come on, Alistair!” It was the first time she called his name.

She pumped his chest continuously. Sweat poured down her forehead. Her hair fell loose, brushing against his face.

Suddenly, Alistair let out a loud gasp.

Cough! Cough!

He opened his eyes wide, inhaling deeply like a drowning man breaking the surface. His body arched, coughing violently.

Elara fell back, panting. “Thank God…”

Right at that moment, the door burst open.

Julian Thorne and the family physician, Dr. Evans, rushed in. Following them was Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper.

The scene before them was shocking: The dying billionaire was gasping for air, his face flushed, and the young maid was kneeling on the bed, hair disheveled, lips swollen and red, clothes askew.

“What the hell is this?” Julian shouted, his face changing color. He had expected the sound of death, not this. “What are you doing to my brother? Are you… abusing him?”

Mrs. Gable covered her mouth: “Oh my heavens! A girl as pure as you, doing such a thing…”

Alistair was still dizzy, but his sharp mind returned the moment oxygen flooded his brain. He looked at Elara, at her red lips, then at the unconcealed disappointment on Julian’s face.

He understood what had just happened. This girl had just dragged him back from hell.

“Seize her! Call the police!” Julian ordered the bodyguards. “She’s trying to kill him!”

Two large bodyguards rushed forward, grabbing Elara’s slender arms, dragging her off the bed.

“No! I saved him! He went into cardiac arrest!” Elara screamed, looking toward Alistair for help.

Alistair tried to raise his hand. His strength hadn’t fully returned, but his eyes had regained their inherent authority.

“Stop,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but cold as ice.

The whole room froze.

“Brother Alistair, this girl…” Julian started to say.

“Let her go,” Alistair commanded, staring at Julian. “She didn’t kill me. She… is giving me special care.”

“Care?” Julian frowned. “By climbing into your bed?”

Alistair smirked, a weak but defiant smile. He looked at Elara, saw the fear in her eyes, and decided to play his hand face up.

“Exactly. And from this moment on, Elara Vance is no longer a maid. She is my private nurse. And she will stay by my side 24/7. No one is allowed to give me anything to eat or drink unless it passes through her hands.”

Julian’s face turned from red to pale white. He understood the underlying message: I know someone is poisoning me, and I just found my poison taster.

“Get out,” Alistair said. “Everyone get out. Except Elara.”

When the door closed, the room returned to silence. Elara stood there, trembling, rubbing her sore wrists.

Alistair looked at her, his gaze softening slightly but still full of caution.

“You just saved my life,” he said.

“It was CPR,” Elara replied, her voice still shaking. “I used to study nursing.”

“I know what that feels like, Elara,” Alistair said, touching his lips lightly. “But now you’re trapped in this cage with me. Julian won’t let this go.”

“I know,” Elara stepped closer, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher she brought in (the safe water). “So, is our deal still valid?”

Alistair looked at the small but brave girl in front of him. A strange emotion kindled within him.

“Double it,” he said. “One million dollars. But you must do exactly what I say. We are going to play a game with them. And you, my innocent girl, you will be the Queen on this chessboard.”

Chapter 3: The Devil’s Alliance

The next morning, news spread throughout the manor: Billionaire Alistair Thorne had miraculously recovered thanks to the “devoted care” of the young maid. Malicious rumors began to surface. They said Elara used her body to seduce the dying master to seize his fortune.

Elara ignored it all. She moved her belongings into the small room adjoining Alistair’s bedroom.

Her first task: Search all of Alistair’s medications and supplements.

“Don’t touch the insulin vial,” Alistair warned as he sat in his wheelchair, watching her work. “That’s the only thing I inject myself.”

Elara picked up the insulin vial, examining it under the light. She squinted.

“You inject it yourself, but who prepares the new vials for you?”

“Nurse Evans. He’s worked for this family for 20 years.”

“He’s also the one who prescribed the Digoxin,” Elara said coldly. She took a syringe, drew a little solution from the insulin vial, and dropped it into a chemical test kit she had secretly asked a friend to buy.

The solution turned pale green.

“It’s not arsenic,” Elara whispered. “It’s Ricin. A microscopic amount. It doesn’t kill you instantly, but it weakens the immune system and causes gradual heart failure.”

Alistair gripped the wheelchair armrests until his knuckles turned white. Evans. The man he trusted like a father figure.

“They want me to die naturally,” Alistair growled. “So no one suspects a thing.”

“What should we do?” Elara asked. “If you stop the medication suddenly, they’ll get suspicious.”

Alistair looked at Elara. He saw in her eyes not just intelligence but a certain fire of hatred, or perhaps intense determination to survive.

“You will inject me,” Alistair said. “But you will switch the medicine. You will inject saline. And we will act. I will still pretend to be weak. I want to see what Julian does when he sees me ‘cheating death’ but refusing to die properly.”

“And my brother?” Elara asked, reminding him of her part of the deal.

“This morning, a top nephrologist from Boston arrived at your brother’s hospital. The surgery is scheduled for next week. All costs have been paid anonymously.”

Elara was stunned. She looked at Alistair, tears welling up. She didn’t expect him to act so fast.

“Thank you, sir…”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Alistair interrupted, his gaze sharp. “Now it’s your turn to pay the debt. Tonight, Julian is throwing a party to celebrate me ‘passing the critical stage’ – essentially to check how long I have left to live. You will go with me. Not as a nurse. But as my fiancée.”

“What?” Elara’s jaw dropped. “Fiancée? But… I’m just a servant.”

“Precisely. That is the hardest slap in Julian’s face. He thinks he will inherit everything? Not if I marry before I die. By law, my wife will be the primary heir.”

“But… you don’t intend to die?”

“He doesn’t know that,” Alistair smirked, a cruel smile. “I want to see him go mad. And I want you to be my shield. Do you dare, Elara?”

Elara looked into the ash-gray eyes of the most powerful yet loneliest man in the world. She recalled the feeling of his cold lips under hers last night. She had breathed life into him. Now, their fates were tied together.

“I dare,” she said firmly.

PART 2: THE GILDED CAGE

Chapter 4: The Banquet of Wolves

Thorne Manor was ablaze with lights, a stark contrast to its usual gloom. Limousines lined up in front of the hall, bringing New York’s elite: business partners, sycophants, and hidden enemies. Julian had organized this party extravagantly, a silent assertion that he was the new master of this place.

In the dressing room, Elara looked at herself in the mirror without recognizing the girl staring back. The burgundy silk evening gown hugged her slender body, revealing alluring bare shoulders. A sparkling diamond necklace rested on her neck – a gift Alistair had tossed to her with indifference, yet worth a fortune.

“Don’t tremble,” Alistair’s voice came from behind. He sat in his wheelchair, but his perfectly tailored black tuxedo and cold aura made him look more commanding than anyone standing tall out there. His complexion was slightly rosier thanks to three days of Elara secretly switching his meds, but he still deliberately applied makeup to look pale to deceive his enemies.

“I’m not trembling from fear,” Elara replied, turning to adjust his tie. Her movements were so natural that she surprised herself. “I’m trembling because I’m about to play the lover of an iceberg.”

Alistair smirked, a rare smile reaching his eyes. “Good. Keep that sharp tongue. You’ll need it to deal with my stepmother.”

They appeared at the top of the grand staircase. The entire auditorium below fell silent. The melodious music seemed to falter.

Julian was holding a glass of champagne, the smile vanishing from his lips when he saw Elara’s hand resting lightly on Alistair’s shoulder.

“Welcome everyone,” Alistair said, his voice not loud but amplified by a cleverly hidden microphone system. “Thank you for coming to my ‘early funeral’.”

Scattered, awkward laughter rang out.

“But I’m afraid I must disappoint you all,” Alistair continued, reaching out to take Elara’s hand. “I’m not dead yet. And I have an important announcement. May I introduce Elara Vance – my fiancée.”

A commotion erupted like a broken beehive. Ladies whispered, gentlemen stared. Julian gripped his wine glass so hard it shattered in his hand, blood and wine mixing as they dripped onto the marble floor.

Julian strode quickly to the foot of the stairs, trying to maintain composure but his voice trembling with rage. “Brother Alistair, are you joking? She… she is a servant! You are delirious from the medication!”

“She is the only one here who wants me alive, Julian,” Alistair looked straight into his brother’s eyes. “And you, you seem disappointed that I can still breathe, don’t you?”

The stepmother, Lady Victoria, stepped forward with the face of a cobra preparing to strike. “Alistair, darling, we need to talk privately. You cannot let a gold-digger of unknown origin step foot into the Thorne family. She is taking advantage of your weakness.”

Elara felt Alistair’s hand tighten around hers. She knew this was the moment she had to play her part.

She took a step forward, blocking the space between Alistair and Lady Victoria. She held her head high, the innocent “virgin” look gone, replaced by cold pride.

“Lady Victoria,” Elara said, her voice sweet but sharp. “I may not have a prestigious background, but I know how to take care of Alistair better than any expensive nurse you hire. And most importantly, I know exactly what is in his food and medicine.”

Lady Victoria went pale. She took a step back, her eyes darting nervously toward Dr. Evans, who was lurking in the crowd.

Alistair looked at Elara with a mix of surprise and amusement. This girl… she was truly a warrior.

Chapter 5: Truth in the Shadows

The party turned into a psychological battlefield. Elara didn’t leave Alistair’s side. She tasted every drink before giving it to him, refused every dish from the kitchen. Her actions were so public they were provocative.

Late that night, when the guests had gone, Alistair and Elara returned to the safe room.

As soon as the door closed, Alistair collapsed. Having to force himself to act for 4 hours had drained his meagerly recovering strength.

“Alistair!” Elara caught him, helping him to the bed.

“I’m fine,” he panted, sweating profusely. “Just… tired.”

Elara quickly got a warm towel to wipe his face, then administered a booster shot (the kind she bought herself). In the dim yellow nightlight, the distance between them seemed to vanish. She was no longer the maid, and he was no longer the boss. They were allies, in the same boat amidst a sea of sharks.

“You did well,” Alistair whispered, eyes closed. “You were very beautiful today.”

Elara’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at his angular face, the stern features now softer in sleep. She realized she wasn’t just worried about him for the 1 million dollars anymore.

“Why do you trust me?” Elara asked softly, her fingers unconsciously brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I could be a gold digger too.”

Alistair opened his eyes, grabbing her hand. His hand was warm, no longer freezing like the first night.

“Because of that kiss,” he said. “When you gave me CPR… I felt your fear. A murderer isn’t afraid of the victim dying. Only someone who wants to save a life feels fear.”

Elara blushed, intending to pull her hand back, but Alistair held on tight.

“And one more thing,” he said, his voice lowering. “I had you investigated. You were expelled from medical school not because of lack of money. But because you reported a professor for sexual harassment, and he used his power to force you out. You are brave, Elara. And I need that bravery.”

Elara was stunned. He knew everything.

“So… you also know about my father?”

Alistair nodded. “An honest mechanic who had a work accident and was squeezed by the insurance company. I know you hate rich people like me.”

“I used to,” Elara admitted. “But you are different from them. You are lonely.”

“We are both lonely, Elara.”

In that moment, the air became still and magnetic. Alistair pulled her hand gently. Elara leaned down. Their lips touched. This time it wasn’t CPR. It was gentle, probing, and then became passionate. It was the kiss of two people standing on the edge of an abyss finding each other.

But the kiss was interrupted by a strange noise from the balcony.

Click.

Alistair pushed Elara behind him, his eyes sharpening. He pulled a pistol hidden under the pillow.

The balcony glass shattered. A dark figure rushed in, holding a dagger.

Alistair couldn’t move fast, but his aim was true.

Bang!

The bullet hit the intruder’s shoulder, sending him tumbling.

Elara screamed, but she immediately rushed to flip the light switch.

The intruder was groaning on the floor. He was dressed in all black, but his mask had fallen off.

It wasn’t a professional assassin. It was Joe – the gentle gardener boy Elara often talked to.

“Joe?” Elara was horrified. “Why?”

Joe clutched his bleeding shoulder, looking at Elara with pleading eyes. “They kidnapped my mother… Mr. Julian… he said if I didn’t kill the boss tonight, he would kill my mother…”

Alistair lowered the gun, his face hardening terrifyingly.

“Julian has crossed the line,” he said, his voice cold as death. “He no longer wants to play the slow poisoning game. He wants war. Fine, I’ll give him war.”

Chapter 6: The Counterattack Plan

Instead of handing Joe over to the police (who were bought off), Alistair called his most loyal private security team from New York. They took Joe for treatment and secretly rescued his mother.

“We need to end this,” Alistair told Elara as dawn broke. “I can’t live in fear forever.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I will die,” Alistair said calmly.

Elara panicked. “What?”

“Fake death,” Alistair corrected. “Julian thinks the poison is still working. He’s impatient because I announced the engagement. If I die right now, before we can register the marriage, he wins.”

“So why…”

“Because if I die, he will let his guard down. He will reveal evidence. I need him to confess or be caught red-handed.”

“What’s the plan?” Elara asked, heart pounding.

“Tomorrow morning, you will find me in a deep coma. Evans will come. He will declare me dead. You must act out extreme grief. We will take my body to the morgue of the family’s private hospital – where I have my people.”

“But Evans is Julian’s man!”

“Correct. Evans will confirm I’m dead. But he won’t perform an autopsy immediately. He will want to destroy the evidence in my body (the Ricin) by cremating me early. That’s when we catch him.”

“Too dangerous,” Elara shook her head. “What if Evans injects you with a real lethal dose to make sure you’re dead?”

“That’s why I need you,” Alistair gripped her shoulders. “You must be there. You must stop him from approaching my body after the declaration of death. You must act like a wife insane with grief, letting no one touch her husband.”

Elara looked deep into his eyes. This was a gamble with life. But she trusted him.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s make this performance worth every penny.”

PART 3: CHECKMATE

Chapter 7: Fake Funeral, Real Pain

The next morning, Elara’s blood-curdling scream tore through the silence of Thorne Manor.

“No! Alistair! Wake up! Don’t leave me!”

Servants rushed into the room. Julian and Dr. Evans appeared shortly after, their faces trying to hide triumph behind masks of fake concern.

On the bed, Alistair lay motionless. His skin was pale, cold (thanks to a temporary heart rate suppressant Alistair had prepared beforehand).

Dr. Evans stepped forward, pretending to check the pulse, checking the pupils. After a tense minute, he turned around, shaking his head with a sorrowful face.

“I am so sorry. He’s gone. Acute heart failure.”

“Impossible!” Elara screamed, rushing to hug Alistair’s body. She sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down. She didn’t need to act much, because the fear that the heart suppressant might actually kill him was squeezing her heart. “He just got better! Why?”

“That is the common progression of this disease, miss,” Evans said in a monotone voice. “A little rally before the final fade.”

Julian stepped forward, placing a hand on Elara’s shoulder. “My condolences, sister-in-law to be. But let us handle the funeral arrangements. He needs to rest.”

“No one touches him!” Elara shouted, slapping Julian’s hand away. She pulled a fruit knife from her pocket, waving it wildly. “Stay back! I won’t let you take him anywhere! You killed him!”

Elara’s crazy action stunned everyone.

“She’s in excessive shock,” Julian signaled the bodyguards. “Restrain her.”

“Stop!” A voice rang out from the door.

It was the Chief Lawyer of the Thorne Corporation, Mr. Harrison, along with a formidable legal team.

“According to the latest will Mr. Thorne signed three days ago,” Mr. Harrison said, pushing up his glasses, “Ms. Elara Vance is designated as the guardian of the body and fully responsible for the funeral in the event he passes away before marriage. Anyone interfering will be sued.”

Julian gritted his teeth. He didn’t expect Alistair to plan this far ahead. “Fine. But the body needs to be taken to the morgue for preservation.”

“We will take him to St. Jude Hospital,” Elara said, wiping her tears, her voice hardening. St. Jude was a private hospital owned by an old friend of Alistair.

Julian and Evans exchanged worried glances. If an autopsy was performed, the Ricin would be detected.

“We object,” Evans said. “Mr. Alistair once expressed a wish to be cremated immediately at the family crematorium.”

“Do you have papers to prove it?” Elara retorted. “If not, your words are worthless.”

The argument lasted for an hour. Finally, under pressure from the lawyers, Julian had to concede, but he demanded to ride in the hearse to “ensure safety.”

Chapter 8: The Resurrection

The hearse rolled through the pouring rain. In the spacious rear compartment, there was only Alistair’s coffin, Elara sitting beside it, and Julian sitting opposite. Julian’s two bodyguards were driving.

The atmosphere was suffocatingly terrifying.

“You acted very well,” Julian suddenly spoke, a smirk appearing on his lips. “But the show is over, Elara. Do you think I’ll let this coffin reach St. Jude?”

Elara clenched her fists. “What do you intend to do?”

“This car will have an accident,” Julian said casually, pulling out a silenced pistol. “It will plunge off a cliff. Both you and that damn corpse will burn to ash. No autopsy. No heir.”

Elara looked at the black gun pointed at her. She was scared, but she remembered Alistair’s instruction. Stall for time.

“Why would you do that to your brother? He gave you everything.”

“Everything?” Julian scoffed. “He gave me scraps! I worked like a dog for the corporation, while he just sat on the throne and gave orders. He looked down on me because my mother was the second wife. I deserve everything!”

“Including poisoning him with Ricin?” Elara asked, secretly activating the recording pen in her pocket.

“Ricin, arsenic, who cares? Evans is a mixing genius. He died slowly, painfully, just as I wanted.”

“Enough,” Julian clicked the safety off. “Goodbye, Cinderella.”

Just as Julian was about to pull the trigger, the coffin lid flew open.

Julian flinched in horror, firing a shot that missed and hit the car ceiling.

Alistair sprang up from the coffin, fast as a panther. He wasn’t weak at all. The effects of the heart suppressant had worn off, and adrenaline was surging through his blood.

He lunged, punching Julian hard in the face, dazing him, sending the gun flying.

“Alistair? Are you… are you a ghost?” Julian screamed, clutching his broken, bloody nose.

“I am your nightmare,” Alistair roared, grabbing Julian’s collar and slamming his head against the car wall.

The car swerved. The driver (Julian’s man) noticed the commotion in the back and intended to brake hard.

But right then, sirens wailed from all sides. A police barricade and a convoy of black armored vehicles from Alistair’s security team had blocked the road ahead.

The hearse stopped.

The back door flew open. Alistair stood there, his white shirt stained with blood from Julian’s nose, looking like a grim reaper just risen from hell. At his feet, Julian was groaning.

“It’s over, little brother,” Alistair said.

Chapter 9: The Verdict

Julian, Dr. Evans, and Lady Victoria were all arrested that very day. Elara’s recording, along with the testimony of Joe the gardener boy and medical evidence (Alistair’s blood test), were the nails sealing the coffin of their freedom. Charges: Conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and extortion.

The scandal shook New York’s high society. But Alistair didn’t care about the press. He had more important business.

One week later.

Alistair had fully recovered. He stood outside Elara’s room. She was packing her bags.

“Where are you going?” Alistair asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“The deal is over,” Elara said, not daring to look at him. “Julian has been arrested. My brother had successful surgery and is recovering. I received the money. I… I am giving you back your freedom.”

Alistair walked into the room, took the suitcase from her hand, and threw it onto the bed.

“Who said you are free?”

“But…”

“I said you are my fiancée,” Alistair stepped closer to her, his masculine scent enveloping her. “And the Thorne family does not have a habit of breaking engagements.”

“That was just an act!” Elara protested, heart racing. “You are a billionaire, and I…”

“You are the one who saved my life. You are the only one who dared to stand between me and a bullet (metaphorically),” Alistair lifted her chin. “I don’t need a trophy wife of equal status to put on display. I need a partner. I need you.”

“Your brother will need a good environment to recover. This manor is huge. And I…” Alistair’s voice lowered, “I also need to recover. My heart… it needs CPR every day.”

Elara laughed through her tears. “That is the cheesiest proposal I have ever heard.”

“I’m new to romance,” Alistair smiled, leaning down to kiss her.

This time, no one disturbed them. No poison, no schemes, no death lurking. Only the warm breath of life and love beginning to bloom amidst the ashes.

The “virgin” maid had not only saved the billionaire’s life but also saved his lonely soul. And in return, he gave her the world.

THE END