DIAGNOSIS: (FAKE) MARRIAGE.

Download <DIAGNOSIS: (FAKE) MARRIAGE.> for free!

DOWNLOAD

Chapter 2 BAD LUCK IS MY MIDDLE NAME.

A massive black van with pitch-black tinted windows blocked the alley’s exit. It slammed on the brakes so hard the bumper almost clipped my knees.

I didn't even get to swallow my last bite of donut.

The sliding side door was violently yanked open. Two mountains of muscle stuffed into cheap black suits leaped onto the pavement, cutting off any escape route. One was a bald giant, so wide he looked like a refrigerator with legs. The other was shorter, weaselly, and reeked so strongly of cheap cologne mixed with pine tree air freshener that my eyes actually stung.

"Let's take her," the short one said, pointing a stubby finger at me.

"Are you sure, Tito?" the giant grunted. His voice sounded like crushed gravel. "The boss said to bring someone presentable. This one’s got a dirty face. She looks like a raccoon eating out of a dumpster."

"He said to grab the first woman on the street who fit the bill, Gino! The boss is gonna kill us if we go back empty-handed! Just grab the girl!"

I tried to back away. I wanted to drop my half-eaten donut and scream for help, but before I could make a single sound or fire off one of my signature sarcastic insults, the giant named Gino took a step forward. He grabbed me by the waist with one arm, hoisted me off the ground like I weighed as much as a bag of cotton balls, and chucked me straight into the back of the van.

I landed hard on my stomach. My knees smacked against a solid surface. I expected to feel standard car upholstery, but instead, my hands met sticky plastic, covered in crumbs, dirt, and what suspiciously felt like stale french fries.

The sliding door slammed shut behind me, plunging me into semi-darkness. The engine roared, and the van peeled out, burning rubber and throwing me flat on my back against the metal paneling.

My brain, currently in a state of absolute denial about my medical death sentence, suddenly had to process that I was being kidnapped by two gorillas.

"H-h-hey! You stupid apes!" I yelled, coughing on the dust wafting up from the cabin floor. I sat up, rubbing my eyes in the gloom. Tito was pointing a gun at me from the passenger seat, while Gino drove like a maniac. "If you're g-gonna kidnap me, at least run a damn vacuum! This floor is disgusting! My hands are covered in dirt!"

Tito blinked, thoroughly bewildered. He lowered the barrel of the gun a couple of inches, twisting his neck to look at his partner.

"What did she say?" Tito asked.

"I said the floor is filthy, you incompetent hacks!" I screamed at them, dusting off the knees of my jeans. The adrenaline from the terminal diagnosis was still pumping through my veins, completely overriding any natural survival instinct I should have had in the face of organized crime. "Do you use this thing to collect garbage? I'm gonna catch a respiratory infection before you even demand the ransom!"

"Shut your mouth, kid," Gino ordered from the wheel, though his tone held way more confusion than actual menace. "We're taking you to the boss. You behave, nothing happens to you. You scream, Tito puts the bag over your head."

"If that b-bag smells anything like the floor of this rust bucket, I'd rather you just shoot me right now!" I snapped back.

I crossed my arms over my chest, deeply offended, completely ignoring the gun Tito was raising again. What did I care if they shot me? I was dropping dead next month anyway! Letting these goons do the dirty work would save me the hospital bills.

The ride lasted about twenty minutes of hard braking, potholes, and me loudly insulting Gino's complete lack of driving skills. I felt the van climb a circular ramp before coming to a jerky halt in what seemed to be an underground parking garage. The engine died.

Tito threw open the back door. The fluorescent light from the ceiling tubes blinded me for a second. Before I could get my bearings, a rough, dark fabric landed over my head.

"Hey!" I protested, trying to yank it off.

"Rules are rules," Tito said, grabbing my elbows and shoving me forward. "Walk."

They marched me blind. I stumbled over my own feet. I heard the metallic chime of elevator doors opening, followed by the most elegant, boring hold music I had ever heard in my life. We went up for a long time. I felt the pressure pop in my ears; we were going very high.

Finally, the elevator glided to a stop. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh.

My kidnappers shoved me forward. The atmosphere shifted instantly. Gone was the smell of stale pine and the suffocating heat of the city. The air that hit my face, even through the hood, was crisp and freezing. It smelled like lavender, industrial-strength cleaning products, and absolute, pristine silence. My worn-out sneakers stepped off the concrete and slid onto a surface that felt as smooth as a sheet of ice.

"Boss! We brought her," Gino’s gravelly voice announced, echoing in the massive space.

Silence followed. No guns cocking, no shouting. Just the sound of slow, measured footsteps walking toward us.

"Gino. Tito." The voice was deep, icy, and delivered in a tone so monotone and commanding it practically froze my blood. "Step back three meters. You just walked onto my floor with the exact same shoes you used to tramp through the entire city."

"Sorry, boss," Tito squeaked, and they yanked me backward with them, clumsily shuffling away.

"Take that bag off her head."

Rough hands grabbed the scratchy fabric and hauled it upward. Natural light seared my retinas. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my eyes on the gigantic penthouse. Everything—literally everything—was white, silver, and glass. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the sprawling metropolis far beneath our feet. It looked like the inside of a glass castle designed by a billionaire architect.

And standing right in the center of that castle, just a few steps away from me, was him.

My brain flatlined for the second time today. He was the most absurdly handsome man I had ever seen in my life. Tall, broad-shouldered, poured into a tailored black suit that didn’t possess a single wrinkle. His dark hair was styled with millimeter precision, and his eyes—some indecipherable color trapped between gray and green—held the intensity of an apex predator. I’m not gonna lie, if I wasn't about to drop dead soon, I would be thanking the gods for hand-carving this absolute god of a man.

He scanned me from head to toe. His expression, initially neutral and intimidating, morphed violently. The corners of his mouth pulled down, and a look of deep, undisguised disgust deformed his perfect features.

He brought an immaculate silk handkerchief to his nose, taking a half-step back like I was radiating nuclear fallout.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, his voice dripping with absolute disdain. "I told you to bring me a candidate. Not a homeless woman with her face covered in sugar."

I ran my tongue over my lips. They were still caked with bits of glaze and chocolate from my stolen donut. I stared right back at him, feeling the adrenaline evaporate, leaving nothing behind but my signature inner chaos. I was "dead", kidnapped, and to top it all off, this germaphobe maniac had the nerve to insult me.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter