PRESENT DAY

In times like this, how do you cope? How do you let someone slip away right before your eyes? Watch them take their last breath. I can't do that. Not to a woman who has given me everything within her power. I won't stand by and watch her die. I'm a doctor. I took an oath to save lives. What kind of doctor would I be if I don't do everything possible to save my mother's life? Even if she does have a rare disease, that's stealing the light from her brown eyes.

According to her doctors, they have tried all possible treatments. Unfortunately, there are no other options available for her condition. After my father passed away, my mother placed the life insurance money in a trust fund for my college education. She worked multiple jobs throughout my childhood to support us. Eventually, she was able to attend community college and earn an associate's degree, which allowed her to work only one job to provide for our family. My mother had been adamant about giving me the best of everything. She claimed it had been what my father had wanted for me.

My whole life, my mother had always put my needs above her own. So when I find out about her illness, I make it my mission to do everything in my power to help her.

My mom and I are seated across from the doctor who is overseeing her treatment. For about an hour, I list off every medical option that has been attempted in hopes of curing her illness.

"I hold his gaze and ask firmly, "Dr. Kato, have you truly explored every possible solution?"

"I"m right here," Mom interjects, a hint of frustration in her voice.

His eyes, almond-shaped and expressive, tilt upward apologetically.

"I apologize, Mrs. Levon. Please don"t take offense; I am simply trying to convey to your daughter that we have exhausted all possible solutions."

On the drive to my mother's house, I ponder on what Dr. Kato said. I'll need a small fortune to find a cure.

That evening, I am hunched in front of my screen, combing through the internet for any available clinical studies. Frustration builds up inside me as I angrily type out the words: I need tons of money.

A forum pops up on my computer monitor.

Don't fall down the rabbit hole, Kinsley.

You know what I do. I slip down the rabbit hole.

I just can"t resist reading the stories posted there - they"re always so captivating. However, I have limited time; my main focus is finding a way to help my mother. The woman"s story about how she and her brother were the only survivors of a tragic family trip resonates with me.

She had needed money to send her brother to an Ivy League university. She heard from a friend about the Wife for Hire Agency.

Thanks to their assistance, she found a husband who funded her brother"s education and began a fresh chapter in her life through a two-year marriage arrangement.

My eyes light up with excitement and hope. She even says she didn"t expect to find love through this arrangement.

"Who needs love?" I scoff at myself.

This could be my chance - marry a wealthy man for a short period and he"ll fund my research project to find a cure for my mother. Leaning back in my chair, I clap my hands together. "This is it, my big break. Wife for Hire Agency, here I come."

***P***

I run my hands down my high-end classic outfit, studying my reflection in the full-length mirror. This has been my go-to style ever since I started college. People would tease me about it, making comments like "Are you off to your secretarial job after class?" or "You dress like my mom." That one always stung. Back in high school, I was used to wearing uniforms and then switching to jeans and t-shirts for after-school activities. But college was different; it was important to me, both for my education and for honoring my father"s life insurance policy. That"s why I made an effort to dress in business casual or professional attire - it helped me take my studies seriously and not waste my inheritance.

Being different attracts two types of men: the ones who pretend to care and manipulate you, and the ones who see straight into your soul and tug at your heartstrings. I struggle to suppress the memories that flood my mind when I think about how he couldn't stay away from me during our time in college.

My gaze falls on my outfit - gray slacks, black kitten heels, and a short-sleeved cream blouse. It gives off a professional and respectable vibe.

Kinsley, your goal is to attract a husband. The man shouldn't pick you just based on looks. However, my supposed beauty may actually benefit me for once in this situation.

I swipe a finger over my semi button nose and marvel in my pecan skin. I love the skin I'm in.

My fingers slide through my freshly washed hair. The thick brown waves dance over my slender shoulders.

If I want to hook the wealthiest man, I'll have to seek reinforcement. My best friends and fellow doctors, Faye and Shaylee.

High fashion is their signature style. Even before they put on their white doctor coats. They look like they just stepped off the page of a magazine. Couture all the way.

I pick up my phone off the nightstand and quickly send a text in our group chat.

Me: I have an important meeting today and need to exude subtle sexiness.

Faye: laughing emoji

Shaylee: face palm emoji

Me: So I need to go shopping. ASAP.

Faye: Girl, you should've led with shopping.

Shaylee: I work overnight. How about noon? I'd like to get at least five hours of sleep.

Faye: Boring. I'll drink for me and Shaylee.

Me: Laughing emoji. Noon it is.

Faye: I'll pick you two up at eleven thirty.

Shaylee: Ok.

Me: Great! Thanks girls.

It's important I don't let them go too far today.

***P***

Faye bobs her head to the beat of the music as she drives her powder blue Bentley truck through Newark, New Jersey.

The woman is a southern bell from South Carolina. She comes from money. Her husband is also rich. I'm not sure Faye knows what it's like to be poor. She had dressed her ass off during medical school and didn't apologize for it.

Once inside the high-end boutique, the salesperson greets Faye.

"KB, this is Shaylee and Kinsley." A wide grin lifts her mocha cheeks.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," he says.

"Faye, Nadine will be here soon. She's bringing those pieces you discussed earlier."

Faye does a little dance. "KB, that's awesome."

"I'll pour the champagne," KB says as he bounces off toward the back of the store.

Faye waves a hand in the air. "Thanks."

She turns to Shaylee and me. "Kinsley, give us the run down while we scour the racks."

"Ok," I sigh.

KB returns, placing a flute filled with rosy champagne in each of our hands.

"Thank you," we sing.

His pale cheeks redden, then he smiles from ear to ear. "Do we know what look we're going for?"

"KB, Kinsley is our star this afternoon. Give me five minutes to find out."

"No problem." KB disappears into the back of the store.

"What's the occasion, Kinsley?" Faye asks.

I gulp down half the glass of champagne. "Dr. Sato said he can't help my mother. He and his team of doctors have exhausted every possible measure."

Shaylee folds her arms across her chest. "The fine doctor said that?"

My friend has a crush on my mother's doctor. I think it's cute.

I smirk. "Yeah. But all isn't lost. I've found a solution." My smile turns a bit evil.

After I give them the run down about the Wife for Hire Agency, I peer into their eyes. "This is a great idea, right? I'll have unlimited funds to research my mother's condition."

Faye plants a hand on her curvaceous hip. "Marriage isn't easy. I know I make it look easy with Eric, but most people have to work at it. You're talking about marrying a man you don't know." She glances around the room, then returns her gaze to mine. "Many wealthy men have weird fetishes."

Shaylee interrupts, raising a finger. "Your husband might expect you to kneel by the door with your hands bound."

She leans in. "You don't have sex anymore, Kinsley."

I swat her away. "I'm aware of my short comings."

Faye laughs. "You can't marry a billionaire and not put out."

Shaylee places a hand on my arm. "We stand by you no matter what. We've done so throughout college."

"To save your mother's life, we'll stand with you. Sex will be an issue. You'll have to go somewhere in your head to get through it," Faye says in a soft tone.

I nod before tossing the rest of the champagne to the back of my throat. "I'm saving a life. The most important person in my world will live longer. She deserves to travel the world."

Shaylee and Faye wrap me in their arms.

I can do this.

We step apart.

Faye struts over to KB and tells him what outfits she's looking for.

The bell sounds over a door in the distance.

"Hello, Faye." A woman smiles as she approaches, carrying several garment bags.

"I have the one-of-a-kind clothing items you requested," the woman says.

"Thanks, Nadine," Faye replies.

"Nadine, you know Shaylee." Faye smiles.

They greet each other.

"Dr. Nadine Magarelli, I'd like you to meet our friend, Dr. Kinsley Levon."

She shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. You have a beautiful boutique," I say.

"Thank you." She grins.

"During your rounds at the hospital, you never seem to run into our friend because she spends most of her time in her research lab when she"s not seeing patients," Faye chuckles.

"I know another doctor like that. Research is very important in our profession. Best of luck to you," Nadine says.

I feel my shoulders loosen up.

"Thank you for your kind words," I say with a grateful smile.

"Faye, the shop is closed to the public for two hours. I have to get my girls to dance class."

Nadine walks backwards toward the back entrance. "You ladies have a nice time."

We say our goodbyes. My friends waste no time shoving me into a dressing room.

After two hours, Faye and I are in a fit of giggles as I try on the final dress. We"ve managed to down two bottles of champagne while Shaylee sticks to bottled water.

"Faye, Eric's here," KB yells.

"Thanks," Faye calls out.

Earlier, Faye had sent Eric a text message informing him that he would need to drive us home.

He's a good man. Too bad they don't make them like him anymore.

Faye carefully explains the occasion for each dress she picked out for me, while Shaylee snaps a picture of me in the crimson dress that fits my body perfectly. The nude stilettos add just the right touch without being too provocative.

I look over at my friends and declare, "I"m ready."

***P***

After my meeting with the team at the Wife for Hire Agency, I am filled with a sense of assurance. They are impressed with the portfolio I have prepared.

Instead of waiting anxiously for a response from the agency, I throw myself into my work at the hospital and conduct extensive research in my spare time.

My mother has no clue what I am doing behind her back. I had promised her that I'd exhaust all options to find a cure for her condition.

As two weeks pass, I receive no updates from the Wife for Hire Agency. Panic begins to consume me. What if none of the potential candidates are interested in me? The thought of my overdue mortgage payments makes me scoff; every penny I have goes towards my research. At work, my friends notice that I"m only eating strawberries for lunch and insist on buying my meals for the rest of the week. I'm so hungry that I can"t possibly turn down their offer. My life feels like it"s spiraling out of control and desperation sets in. So, what do I do? I create a profile on a sugar baby website. Despite being thirty-one, I still look like I"m twenty-four. Perhaps I can find a sugar daddy to help cover some of my research costs this month.

On the drive home, my phone rings. "Wife for Hire Agency calling," my Mercedes announces.

"Answer," I order.

My heart is in my throat.

"Hello, Kinsley speaking."

"Gail here, Kinsley. How are things?"

"I must admit, I"m feeling a bit anxious. I didn"t think you would call."

Her joyful laugh reverberates through the car. "Well, I have good news for you. We"ve found a perfect match."

My eyebrows rise in surprise. "Only one?"

A wave of disappointment washes over me.

"We can always wait if you prefer," she offers.

"But this suitor is incredibly generous and willing to fund your research immediately," she assures me.

I exclaim, "That"s amazing!"

"Can you make it in tomorrow morning at ten?"

"Yes, Gail, I'll be there." I end the call.

I let out a scream of excitement. "Hell yes!"

I can fund my mother's research.

Don't dwell on what your soon to be husband will look like. "Kinsley, it's a short-term marriage. It will be over before you know it.

The next day, I sashay down the hallway in my red stilettos, feeling the cream dress cling to my curves. My knuckles tap against Gail"s office door.

"Come in," Gail calls out.

I push the door open. A man sits confidently in one of the chairs facing her desk. My stomach knots with anxiety as I enter, unsure of what to expect.

Gail stands. "Kinsley, I'd like you to meet your future husband..."

The man stands, turns to face me, and extends his hand.

"...Nickulas Pitucco," she finishes.

My jaw drops in shock and disbelief. His lips curl into a mischievous smirk as he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it softly. A jolt runs through me at his touch. He can"t be my future husband. Not him.

"The future Mrs. Pitucco," he declares with a grin on his handsome face.

I quickly pull my hand away from his grip, shaking my head in denial. "No, I"m not."