Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

MARIGOLD

I woke up with a strange, restless energy, a buzzing in my veins that wouldn't let me stay still. I knew it was time. I'd been thinking about this for days—no, years, really—but today was the day I was finally going to do it.

I was going to walk into that stuffy bank, sit down with my manager, and quit. I wasn't going to do the big dramatic fuck-you exit, but I was going to quit.

Today.

Not tomorrow.

Not in two weeks.

I was never going to count someone else's money again. I wasn't going to be the sounding board for disgruntled customers.

I got dressed, choosing my outfit carefully. I didn't want to look too casual, but I also didn't want to look like I worked at a bank.

I settled on a chic black blouse and beige slacks. The shoes were the hardest part, but I finally settled on a pair of comfortable wedges. I wanted to be able to walk out of that bank with grace. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long minute, steeling my resolve.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I hopped on the subway, just like I did every morning.

But today I knew it would be the last time.

At least the last time with me going to a job I hated.

The familiar streets and buildings blurred past me as I rehearsed what I was going to say in my head. How was I going to explain myself? Should I be honest and tell them that I was half a million dollars richer now and didn't need to put up with their miserly paychecks and dead-end promotions anymore? Or should I take the high road, thank them for the opportunity, and just say I was moving on to explore new avenues?

By the time I arrived at the bank, I still hadn't decided. My stomach was a twisted knot of nerves, but I pushed through it. This was my moment. I wasn't going to back down now.

"Marigold, good morning," my manager, Tom, greeted me as I walked in. He was all fake smiles and practiced charm, the kind that you use when you've been working in customer service for far too long.

"Morning, Tom," I replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Of course, come on in. Is everything okay?"

I nodded, following him into his office and taking a seat across from his desk. The room felt claustrophobic, filled with the scent of old coffee and stress. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but I took a deep breath, reminding myself of the weighty check in my bank account and the new life waiting for me beyond this beige prison.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, but then the words tumbled out, faster than I'd expected. "I quit."

Tom blinked, clearly taken aback. "What?"

"I'm quitting," I repeated, more confidently this time. "I've decided it's time for me to move on."

His eyes widened, and he leaned forward, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. "Marigold, are you sure? I mean, I wasn't expecting this. Is there something we've done wrong? Are you unhappy with your role?"

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound dry and a little bitter. "Tom, I've been working here for six years. You and I both know that this job hasn't exactly been a dream come true."

He frowned, his hands clasping together on the desk. "I know we've had our ups and downs, but you've always been a valuable member of the team. If this is about money, we can talk about a raise."

I felt a spark of anger flare up inside me. A raise? Now? After all these years? It was almost laughable.

"A raise would have been nice, oh, I don't know, a few years ago," I said, my voice tight. "But this isn't about money, Tom. Not entirely, anyway. I just need something different. Something more."

Tom looked genuinely flustered now, his brow furrowed as he searched for the right words. "Marigold, I… I'm sorry if we've overlooked your contributions. I really am. But if you stay, I can promise you we'll make things right. We'll give you that raise, and we'll look at getting you into a better position?—"

"Tom," I interrupted, my tone firm. "It's too late for that. I appreciate the offer, but my mind is made up."

He stared at me. He was probably thinking about the shifts he had to fill. I was always the one covering for everyone else. I never called in sick. I was never late.

But all of that was done now.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. Finally, he sighed, nodding slowly.

"Alright," he said, his voice resigned. "If you're sure, then I won't try to stop you. But I have to say, Marigold, we're going to miss you around here."

I felt a pang of guilt at that. Despite everything, I did have some good memories of this place. Of my coworkers, the friends I'd made over the years. But I couldn't let that hold me back. This was my chance to finally take control of my life, and I wasn't going to let it slip away.

"I'll miss some of you too," I admitted, softening my tone. "But I have to do this, Tom. For myself."

He nodded again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I understand. And I wish you all the best, Marigold. You deserve it."

"Thank you," I said. "I really appreciate that."

As I left the bank for the last time, I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom wash over me. I was out. I was finally free.

But as I walked away from the building, the initial rush of excitement began to fade, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. What now? I'd just quit my job, walked away from the only steady income I'd ever known, all because I'd stumbled into half a million dollars and a fake engagement with a billionaire. Was I crazy?

Sure, I had money now—more than I'd ever had in my life—but it wasn't going to last forever. And what was I going to do with myself? What did I even want out of life?

I pushed those thoughts aside as I made my way to my next destination: Bellamy Klein's office. Bellamy was an old friend of mine, someone I'd met about six years ago when I was casually seeing one of his friends. The relationship had fizzled out quickly, but Bellamy and I had hit it off, and we'd stayed in touch over the years. And now, I needed his advice.

Bellamy was a lawyer—a damn good one—and I trusted him to help me navigate this whole fake engagement mess. I needed to know if there were any legal landmines I hadn't considered, any potential pitfalls that could blow up in my face. Because as exciting as all of this was, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking on thin ice.

Zayn was a smart man and far more worldly than I was. I needed to make sure he wasn't taking advantage of me.

When I arrived at his office, Bellamy greeted me with a warm smile, his tall, lanky frame leaning casually against his desk.

"Marigold," he said, his tone teasing. "Long time no see. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

I returned his smile, feeling a little more at ease in his familiar presence. "Bellamy, I need your help. And I'm pretty sure you're going to think I'm crazy."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Well, now you've got my attention. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

I hesitated for a moment, then decided to just dive in. "I'm engaged. Kind of. Almost. Not really."

Bellamy blinked, his expression caught between surprise and confusion. "Engaged? To who?"

"Zayn Bancroft," I said, watching his reaction closely.

His eyes widened in shock, and he let out a low whistle. "Zayn Bancroft? The billionaire? Marigold, what the hell?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, even as I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. "It's not what you think. It's a fake engagement with a fake wedding on the way. A PR stunt, really. He's paying me to pretend to be with him for a year."

Bellamy stared at me for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "You're kidding, right?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous," I admitted, feeling a little sheepish. "But it's real. And the money was just too good to pass up."

Bellamy shook his head, still chuckling. "I can't believe this. I mean, I've heard of people doing crazy things for money, but this? Wow."

"Yeah, wow," I echoed, my tone dry. "But now that I'm in it, I'm starting to wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew. I need to know if there are any legal issues I should be worried about."

He nodded, his expression turning serious as he switched into lawyer mode. "Alright, let's break this down. Have you and Zayn signed any sort of contract or agreement?"

"Not yet," I said, feeling a little embarrassed by the oversight. "That's part of why I'm here. I want to make sure everything is covered before we get too deep into this. He did say he wanted me to sign something that said I wouldn't tell anyone. And I'm already telling you."

"I'm your lawyer. Give me a dollar."

I pulled a dollar from my purse.

"I can't say anything," he said. "And you haven't signed the NDA yet, have you?"

"No."

"Smart move," Bellamy said, nodding approvingly. "The first thing you need is a contract that outlines the terms of your arrangement—how long it will last, what's expected of both parties, and any deal breakers."

"Deal breakers?" I asked, frowning.

"Yeah," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Like, what happens if one of you catches feelings for the other?"

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "That's not going to happen. Not after Mallorca."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, but didn't press for details. "Okay, but you still need to consider it. Emotions can be tricky, and things can get messy fast."

I waved off his concern. "I'm not worried about that. What else?"

"Well, you should also think about what happens if things go south. What if Zayn decides he's not happy with how things are going and tries to sue you?"

"For what?" I asked, genuinely baffled.

"Defamation, for starters," Bellamy replied. "If his goal is to improve his reputation and you somehow make it worse, he could try to pin the blame on you."

My head started to spin at the thought. "I hadn't even considered that."

"That's why you have me," Bellamy said with a grin. "I'll make sure the contract protects you as much as it protects him."

"Thanks, Bellamy," I said, feeling a little more at ease. "I really appreciate this."

"No problem," he said, waving it off. "But Marigold, you need to think about how you're going to present yourself to the public. Right now, you're a twenty-seven-year-old recently unemployed woman who just got engaged to a billionaire. People are going to talk."

I laughed, though his words hit a little too close to home. "I'm not a gold-digger, if that's what you're implying."

"I know that," he said, his tone serious. "But I've seen enough cases like this to know how it plays out. When things go wrong—and they usually do—it's the woman with nothing who gets painted as the villain. You need to get ahead of that."

I chewed on my bottom lip, considering his words. He was right. As much as I wanted to believe this was just a simple business arrangement, the truth was that I was playing with fire. And if I wasn't careful, I could get burned.

"I'll figure it out," I said, more to myself than to him. "I have to."

Bellamy nodded, satisfied with my response. "Good. Just remember, Marigold, this isn't just about the money. It's about your reputation, your future. Don't let this turn into something that ruins your life. New York is a big city, but it's also very small. People talk. Reputations are hard to shake once you've got one. I think your new fiancé knows that, which is why he needs you."

I left his office with the promise to bring him any paperwork Zayn gave me. He had put together a pack of paperwork as well. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into an abyss of uncertainty.

I thought the money would be the perfect way to finally get out of the rut I'd been stuck in for so long. But now, I wasn't so sure.

Was it really worth it?

As I unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped inside, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Zayn.

"Dinner tonight? We should get to know each other more intimately."

I stared at the message for a long moment, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. I hated that I was looking forward to seeing him. I hated that he made me feel anything . And I hated that I was starting to wonder if I was in way over my head.

But as I typed out my response, agreeing to meet him, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement too. This was my life now. And for better or worse, I was going to see it through.