Chapter 2 Marry Her or Else

Bradley POV

Parker gathered the girl's scattered belongings from the street and helped her up.

"Thank you so much," the girl said as he guided her into the car, her voice soft and sincere. When she smiled at him, I caught my first real look at her face.

Even with those sunglasses hiding her eyes, she was striking. Delicate bone structure, skin like porcelain, despite what had clearly been years of neglect.

I slid into the back seat beside her, maintaining an appropriate distance. She smelled faintly of cheap soap and something floral—probably discount shampoo.

"Thank you again, Mr. Booth," she said, turning toward me with that same genuine smile.

I didn't respond.

She continued anyway, filling the silence. "Martha mentioned her grandson worked at some big company. Are you an executive there? What should I call you?"

Trying to get close already?

"Mr. Booth will do," I said curtly.

"Oh," she replied quietly.

I glanced at Parker through the rearview mirror. "Hospital. Now."

"Yes, sir."

The girl—Dayna, Martha had called her—sat rigidly against the leather seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She barely moved, barely breathed, like she was afraid any motion might shatter something.

"You can relax," I said, more curtly than intended.

"I'm sorry, I just..." She bit her lip. "I've never been in a car this nice before. I don't want to dirty anything. Your seats are so soft, and I've been sitting on the street, and—"

"The seats can be cleaned." I kept my eyes on my phone, checking emails. "Sit normally."

She let out a breath and settled back, but the tension didn't fully leave her shoulders. Within minutes, the exhaustion must have caught up with her. Her head began to droop, and before I knew it, she'd slumped sideways against my shoulder.

I stiffened. The scent of her shampoo was stronger now, and I could feel the rise and fall of her breathing. She weighed almost nothing.

I pushed her away firmly, repositioning her against the window. She murmured something in her sleep but didn't wake.

Parker's eyes met mine in the mirror. I shot him a look that said don't even think about commenting.

My mind drifted back to this morning, when this whole mess began.

"Bradley!" Martha's voice had carried that worried tone she got when something truly bothered her. "That girl—the one who saved me—she left the hospital!"

I'd been in the middle of a board meeting. "Grandma, I'm sure the hospital staff—"

"No one knows where she went! She needs surgery for her eyes, and she just walked out!" There was genuine distress in her voice. "You need to find her. Bring her back."

I'd pinched the bridge of my nose. "Martha, I'm sure she has family who—"

"Find her, Bradley. Today." Her voice held that gentle but firm quality that meant she wouldn't be swayed.

So I'd excused myself from the meeting, called Parker, and had him run a full background check.

The report came back within the hour, and it had raised every red flag I had.

Dayna Melgar. Twenty-one years old. Hudson Business School freshman. Marketing major, full scholarship. Parents: Maxtime and Taissa. One sibling: Aaron, age sixteen. Family financial situation: unstable. Multiple credit cards in collections. Father recently unemployed. History of...

I'd stopped reading at "history of domestic disturbances."

Something wasn't adding up. The background check showed Martha had given the Melgars ten thousand dollars for Dayna's surgery. The money went straight into her parents' account and disappeared—new furniture, Aaron's school deposit, credit card payments. Everything except her medical treatment.

Was this a genuine misfortune, or had she orchestrated it? Let her greedy parents pocket the money, play the tragic victim, and wait for my family's guilt to draw us in deeper?

So I had Parker prepare the car and head to her residence—I needed to see what game this girl was playing.

By the time we arrived at her apartment building, night had fallen. The moment we pulled up, I saw her emerge from the entrance—stumbling down the steps with a cane she clearly didn't know how to use properly, wearing sunglasses, clutching that pathetic backpack like it held everything she owned.

Which, I realized, it probably did.

She'd fallen. Twice. The second time, she'd ended up in the middle of the street, cars swerving around her, horns blaring.

Idiot girl. If she's faking this, she's taking method acting to dangerous extremes.

But I'd gotten out of the car anyway. Because Martha would never forgive me if something happened to her savior.

Now, watching her sleep against the car window, despite years of reading people, I still couldn't decide if she was genuine or playing me.

We pulled up to St. Catherine's Hospital—my hospital, technically, since the Booth Foundation owned majority shares. I'd called ahead to have Jamie Bhatt waiting.

Parker opened the door, and I shook Dayna's shoulder gently. "We're here."

She woke with a small gasp, disoriented. "Where—"

"Hospital. Come on."

Jamie was waiting in the private entrance, his usual easy smile in place. But when he saw Dayna, something shifted in his expression—professional concern mixed with curiosity.

"Jamie, this is Dayna. She needs a full ophthalmological workup. Priority treatment."

"Of course." Jamie's eyes flicked between us. "And should I put this on the... usual account?"

"Yes."

Jamie's grin widened. "My, my, Bradley. First time I've seen you personally escort someone to the hospital. She must be special."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Uh-huh." That knowing look was infuriating. "I'll take excellent care of her."

I grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. "Jamie. Not a word of this to anyone. Especially not like last time."

His expression sobered. "You mean when Marisa showed up at your office after that charity gala because I mentioned you'd sponsored someone's surgery?"

"Exactly like that. Keep this quiet."

"Got it. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that." He winked. "Your secret's safe with me."

He led Dayna toward the examination rooms, and I watched them go before pulling out my phone.

Martha answered on the first ring. "Did you find her?"

"Yes. She was leaving home. Probably running away." I found a quiet alcove and leaned against the wall, briefing her on Dayna's difficult family situation

"That poor girl." Her voice was full of maternal warmth. "To save a stranger and then be treated so badly by her own family..."

"Or," I said carefully, "she saw an opportunity and took it. A vulnerable elderly woman, a chance to gain sympathy—"

"Bradley, don't be so cynical." Martha's tone was gently chiding. "That girl pushed me out of the way without hesitation. She didn't even know who I was."

"She could have been working with someone. Many people have been looking for ways to—"

"Nonsense. I saw her face when it happened. Pure goodness. And now she's blind because of me." A pause. "You need to marry her."

I nearly dropped the phone. "Excuse me?"

"Marry her, Bradley. She has no one to help her."

"Grandma, marriage is not a solution to homelessness—"

"Oh, but it is, dear." Her voice was firm but affectionate. "She saved my life! And you need a wife anyway. I'm not getting any younger, and I'd like to see great-grandchildren before I die."

"Absolutely not."

"Bradley." This was the tone she used whenever we disagreed and she refused to budge—which was rare, since our relationship was genuinely good and I usually gave her whatever she wanted, but it did happen. Like now. "If you don't marry that girl, I'll take matters into my own hands. You know how I get when I'm upset."

I sighed. She'd done it before—threatened self-harm to get me to fire an executive who'd been embezzling funds. She'd been right that time, but the tactic still left me shaken.

She was the only one who could manipulate me this way. The only one whose threats I couldn't ignore.

Because she'd been there. After my parents died—the car accident that wasn't an accident, the business rivals who'd arranged it, and the twenty-year-old kid suddenly thrust into running a tech empire—Martha had been my rock. Under her guidance, I'd transformed Booth Tech into America's leading technology corporation and built a fortune that ranked me among the world's wealthiest individuals.

She made me the man I am today. I owed her everything.

"I'll... talk to her," I conceded. "See if she's even interested. I can't force her to marry me."

"You'll convince her. I have faith in you." Martha's tone brightened. "I can't stand any of those socialites and heiresses. But Dayna? She's beautiful and so kindhearted. You said she's homeless now? Perfect. You marry her, and you'll be helping her, too. "

"I'll see what I can do."

"Not good enough. Marry her or else. I won't have that sweet child suffering another day."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the line went dead.

I stood there, staring at my phone, when Jamie came sprinting around the corner.

"Bradley! We have a problem. Marisa is here, and she's locked herself in the examination room with your... with Dayna. She's furious."

My jaw clenched. "You run your mouth again?"