A Deal with the Devil

Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the quiet hospital room, Clara sat by her uncle’s bedside and reviewed the dense documents Natalie had handed her. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, a constant reminder of the grim reality she needed to escape. The proposed reality dating show was a unique hybrid, blending the formats of popular programs to create something entirely masked.

According to the rules laid out in the folder, twenty-five female participants from various backgrounds would stand on stage, their identities fully concealed by elaborate masks. They were tasked with evaluating male guests who came onto the show. The women would first talk about their hobbies, personalities, and views on marriage. Then, if a woman found herself interested in a suitor, she would have the opportunity to ask him three questions. Only if she was satisfied with his answers would she remove her mask and proceed to the next stage.

Scanning the fine print, Clara let out a long breath. She finally understood why Natalie had so enthusiastically called it easy money. She could simply keep her mask securely fastened, reject everyone who walked onto the stage, and collect her paycheck without any real consequences. She wouldn't have to fake a romance or compromise her dignity on national television. It was a financial lifeline she couldn't afford to ignore.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Natalie’s number. "I’ve read through the information," Clara said, keeping her voice low.

"What do you think?" Natalie asked over the line. "Easy money, right?"

"Looks good!"

"It doesn’t just look good. It is good," Natalie said, her tone brimming with confidence. "You’d be a fool not to earn this money. Go work on the first episode. If it blows up, you’ll earn even more. I’ve gotten some of the most well-known companies to sponsor us. Also, Mr. Hayes has agreed to be a primary sponsor. Everything he touches turns to gold."

Hearing Tristan’s name drop like a lead weight made Clara hesitate, her fingers tightening around her phone. Just last night, she had bitten his arm in a dark alley to escape him. Working on a project his money funded felt like walking into a snare.

Natalie seemed to read her silence. "Don't worry, Clara. Mr. Hayes wouldn't have the time to sit down and watch the show himself."

Clara looked at her frail uncle, Arthur, who lay unconscious amid a tangle of tubes and monitors. She was desperate for the funds to cover his mounting bills, and her own bank account was practically empty. She gritted her teeth, pushing her pride aside.

"Natalie, I’ll take up your offer!"

"That's the spirit. Come by tomorrow and sign the contract."

The next morning, Clara walked into the production station and signed the paperwork, committing to twenty full episodes. The calculations showed the upfront payment would cover the current medical debt, offering a brief moment of relief. But the doctors had warned her that Arthur remained in critical condition. Even with the hospital fees temporarily sorted, she still desperately needed to find a matching kidney donor. It was an almost impossible task for someone without deep connections in the medical field.

Lost in heavy thought, Clara walked wearily back to the hospital. When the automatic doors slid open, she startled. Tristan Hayes was standing near the main entrance, his tall frame blocking her path. Despite the bandage hidden beneath his tailored suit sleeve from her bite the night before, his eyes lit up with a predatory gleam when he saw her.

"Clara, what are you doing here?" he asked smoothly, stepping into her personal space. "Are you sick?"

"It is none of your business," she replied coldly.

"How is it none of my business?" he countered, reaching out to grab her hand. His fingers locked firmly around her wrist. "You’re my assistant. It’s only right for a caring boss to look after his assistant. Come, tell me where it hurts? I'll accompany you to the doctors."

Clara yanked her arm away, dodging his grasp. She was repulsed by his unwavering shamelessness. "What are you doing trying to touch me?" she snapped, stepping back to create distance between them.

"I’m just trying to help you, okay? Be still!"

Clara’s chest heaved with anger. "I’m telling you right now, Tristan Hayes. I’ve officially resigned. Don’t blame me for what I’ll do if you continue harassing me!"

Tristan chuckled, lazily crossing his arms. "What exactly are you going to do?"

"I'll expose how you toy with innocent women," Clara spat. "President Hayes, you might not care about your personal reputation, but the Vanguard Group board would definitely care. When the public finds out, let's see how your shareholders react."

Upon hearing that, Tristan’s smug expression vanished. His face darkened, a dangerous glint entering his eyes as his jaw clenched. Seizing the opportunity, Clara pushed past his shoulder and fled into the safety of the crowded hospital corridors, disappearing into the sea of patients and nurses.

Left standing alone by the entrance, Tristan stared at the spot where she had vanished. His eyes burned with unchecked anger. He turned on his heel, got straight into his sleek sports car, and slammed the door shut. Starting the engine, he pulled out his phone and called his assistant.

"Simon," Tristan barked. "Go find out what Clara Vance is doing in this hospital. The quicker, the better!"

Simon was an efficient man. Within a couple of hours, he managed to dig up the devastating truth and relayed the information to his boss. Clara wasn't the patient. Her uncle, Arthur Vance, was awaiting a rare kidney transplant in the ICU.

Armed with this potent knowledge, Tristan reclined in his leather seat, a ruthless smirk crossing his lips. He dialed Clara's number. She hung up on the first call. He dialed again, ignoring her rejections. He bombarded her phone non-stop, letting the ringing serve as a psychological weapon. Around the tenth time, her frayed nerves finally snapped.

"Tristan Hayes, what the hell do you want from me?" she demanded as soon as she answered, her voice shaking with exhaustion and rage.

"Meet me at Hyatt Hotels in half an hour. If not—"

"Are you mad?" Clara interrupted exasperatedly. "I am not playing your twisted games!"

"You go ahead and act all high and mighty," Tristan drawled, his voice dropping to a lethal, mocking register, "if you don’t want a kidney donor for your uncle."

The brutal threat pierced straight through her defenses, freezing the blood in her veins. The fight instantly drained out of her, softening her aggressive tone. The realization that he held her uncle's life in his hands was suffocating.

"Tristan Hayes..." she asked, her voice cracking slightly as desperation took over. "Do you truly have a kidney donor?"

"What do you think?" he replied smoothly, savoring his victory over the line. "I’m giving you thirty minutes. Hurry up!"

He pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up with a sharp click.