Chapter 4
Willow's POV
I woke up to my phone blaring at 12:30 PM. My entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck. Eleven hours of work plus saving some drunk rich guy would do that to you. I grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes.
Three missed calls from Angeles Heights Medical Institute. Great. Nothing about my $2,000 though.
"Lying rich bastard," I muttered, thinking about Mr. One-Hundred-Million promise from last night. "All talk, no action."
I dragged myself out of bed, wincing as my back protested. My tiny studio apartment looked even more depressing in the afternoon light filtering through the cheap blinds. Clothes were strewn across the single chair by my bed – including the black crab jacket I'd worn last night.
As I picked it up, something metallic fell to the floor with a clink.
"What the hell?" I bent down to retrieve it, finding a small, elegant metal badge. It looked expensive – gold-plated with some kind of family crest design. "Where did this come from?"
I definitely didn't own anything this fancy. Must have come from the drowning guy – Damian, was it? I placed it on my narrow dining table before heading to the bathroom. I had a shift at ValueMart at 1:00 in the afternoon, and if Ted tried to dock my pay again for "tardiness," I was going to lose it.
I was midway through washing my face when someone started pounding on my door like they were trying to break it down.
"Who is it?" I called out, patting my face dry. "I didn't order anything!"
The knocking continued. Annoyed, I stomped to the door and yanked it open.
My heart nearly stopped.
Standing in my hallway was... me. Or rather, the polished, perfect version of me. Chloe Sinclair – my identical twin sister – dressed in what had to be a $5,000 Chanel suit, her hair styled in flawless waves, makeup that probably cost more than my yearly rent.
Behind her stood a man in a tailored suit holding a tablet, maintaining a respectful distance.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, genuinely shocked. Chloe had never deigned to visit my apartment before.
She wrinkled her nose as she stepped inside uninvited. "This place is even more pathetic than I imagined."
Her assistant followed her in as I closed the door, crossing my arms defensively.
"I hear you've been impersonating me again," Chloe said, her perfectly manicured finger tracing a line on my shabby countertop. "Angeles Heights called. Said some woman with too much makeup claimed to be me."
"I didn't claim to be you," I shot back. "They assumed I was you. I just didn't correct them."
"Not the first time, is it?" Chloe's smile was arctic. "Remember your place, Willow. You're the one our parents threw away."
That stung, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of showing it. "If I'm such garbage, why is the precious Sinclair princess gracing my 'pathetic' apartment? Worried I'll damage your perfect image?"
"Stay away from Damian Blackwood," she hissed. "He's mine."
I frowned. "Who? That drowning guy? His name is Damian Blackwood?"
Chloe's eyes darted to my table, zeroing in on the badge. Something flashed across her face – recognition, followed by calculation.
"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," she said, slowly moving toward the table.
"Listen, do me a favor," she continued, casually sliding the badge into her palm as she spoke. "Forget last night ever happened."
"What favor? Let you pretend you're the hero who saved him?" I was getting angry now. "Do you know I spent $2,000 on his hospital bill? That's half a month's wages for me!"
"Oh?" Her eyebrow arched in mock surprise. "So you did save him?" Her expression morphed into something crueler. "Too bad nobody would believe a stripper saved the Blackwood heir."
I noticed too late that she'd pocketed the badge. Before I could call her out, she continued:
"If you ever use my name again or go near Damian, your foster parents might find themselves without medical support."
My blood ran cold. "Are you threatening me?"
"Not threatening," she said, turning to leave. "Just reminding you that the Sinclair family's medical assistance can be withdrawn at any time."
Something in me snapped. "You evil bitch! Your parents already ruined my life, and now you're threatening Thomas and Maria?"
Chloe smiled smugly. "Oh, I forgot to mention – Damian invited me to dinner. He thinks I saved his life."
I lunged forward and shoved her hard toward the door. "Get out!"
Her assistant barely caught her before she stumbled face-first into the doorframe. I slammed the door behind them, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Damn the Sinclairs! Damn all rich people!" I leaned against the door, forcing myself to breathe. "Calm down, Will. Think about Thomas and Maria..."
Two nights later, I was on stage at Sunset Strip Lounge, performing my "Wildfire" routine. The music pulsed through the club as I spun around the pole, my body glittering under the colored lights.
That's when I saw him in the VIP section.
The drowning man. Damian Blackwood.
He sat beside a stunning woman, her red dress a stark contrast to his dark suit, his posture impeccable, face impassive. For a second, the spotlight swept across the VIP area, and our eyes met. His brow furrowed slightly, a flash of confusion crossing his features before his expression returned to cool indifference.
After my set, I rushed backstage to change.
"Extra fire tonight, Wild," Carlos commented as he adjusted his bartender vest. "Got your eye on that VIP guy?"
"That's my ungrateful rescue," I said, pulling on jeans and a simple top. "The one who owes me two grand and never paid."
Carlos's eyes widened. "You're talking about Damian Blackwood? Are you insane? He's one of the most dangerous men in Los Angeles!"
"I don't care if he's the devil himself," I said, checking my makeup in the mirror. "That's my money. My foster parents' medical bills aren't going to pay themselves."
"It's not worth it, Wild," Carlos warned. "Just write it off."
I finished getting ready, determination setting in. "I'm just going to get what's mine."