Ultimate Cash System

"I… needed to speak with you," she said, her words trembling at the edges. "Not as the girl at the piano. Not as the church volunteer. But as myself."

Something in her tone made Lukas straighten. He gave a small nod. "I'm listening."

Keem looked down for a moment, gathering strength. When she finally met his eyes, her gaze was unwavering.

"From the moment you first walked into this church, I… I knew you were different. Not just because of the money or the fame, but because you gave when you didn't have to. You gave when no one believed you. And since then, I've watched you. Every time you come back, every word you've spoken, every kindness you've done… Lukas, you've become the measure I hold all men against."

The air grew still. The sounds of children faded. Even the evening wind seemed to hush.

"I prayed about this for months," she continued, her voice breaking slightly. "But tonight, I don't want to hide behind prayer anymore. Lukas… will you marry me?"

For the first time in years, Lukas Cain Martin was struck silent.

Her words were so pure, so direct, that his chest tightened. He looked at her—the devotion in her eyes, the trembling hope she tried to steady—and he almost wished the world were simpler.

He exhaled slowly, lowering his gaze for a moment before lifting it again with gentleness.

"Keem…" he said softly, "you don't know how much it means to hear that from you. You're… you're one of the few people I've ever met who doesn't see me as a trophy, or a bank, or a headline. You see me as a man. And that's rare."

Her lips trembled, but she held his gaze, waiting.

"But", he continued, his tone weighted with honesty, "my life is… complicated. I already have women in it. Girlfriends. Almost wives, if you'd call them that. They've stood by me through years of madness, through every rise and every storm. I can't betray them. And I won't."

Silence fell heavy between them. Keem blinked rapidly, the shimmer of unshed tears threatening to spill.

"I see," she whispered, her voice small but steady. "So my prayer was answered, just not the way I hoped."

Lukas stepped closer, his voice firmer now but tender. "Keem… what you asked me tonight—it's not something I'll ever forget. But I don't want to lose you either. Not to distance, not to pride. If you'll let me… I still want to be your friend. Not the kind of friend who fades away, but the kind who'll always come back to this town. To this church. To you."

Her shoulders trembled once, then steadied. She forced a smile through the ache in her chest. "Friend," she repeated softly. "Yes. That's enough. That has to be enough."

She turned slightly, looking back at the chapel now glowing in lantern light. "I'll always pray for you, Lukas. Even if I can't walk beside you as a wife, I'll walk beside you in prayer."

Lukas felt something in his chest tighten again, but he didn't let it show. He reached out and, with rare gentleness, took her hand. Not as a lover, but as a vow.

"Then we'll walk together that way," he said simply.

For a long moment, they just stood there—man and woman, dreamer and devotee, bound not by romance but by a deeper thread of faith and respect.

And when Lukas finally walked back to his car, the last image he carried was Keem standing on the chapel steps, framed by the stained glass, her hands clasped, her head bowed—not in defeat, but in prayer.

The chapel was almost empty when Keem slipped back inside. The soft golden lanterns flickered against the stained-glass windows, painting streaks of crimson and blue across the wooden pews. Outside, Lukas's car engine had already faded into the night, but his words still echoed in her heart.

"If you'll let me… I still want to be your friend."

She sank to her knees at the altar, her white dress brushing against the polished wood. The silence pressed on her, thick and heavy. For the first time in years, her chest ached not from doubt in faith but from longing—for something she could never have.

Her hands folded tightly, knuckles whitening as she bowed her head.

"Lord Jesus," she whispered, her voice trembling, "you know my heart. You know what I carry inside me. I asked for clarity, for an answer, and you gave me one through his lips. He said no… but still, I cannot stop what I feel."

Tears welled in her eyes. They slid down her cheeks, staining the wood beneath her.

"I do not love wealth. I do not love fame. I love him—the man who gives without asking, who shields his family, who carries burdens none of us can see. I have seen many men in my life, Lord, but none like him."

Her voice faltered, then grew steadier, fuelled by something deeper than sorrow.

"I vow, before You, that I will marry no one but Lukas Cain Martin. If it is not him, then I remain yours alone. My life will be Your service. My heart will be his, even if it beats from afar."

The candles flickered higher, as though stirred by a breath unseen. Her tears glistened in the light.

"I will not bind him in chains of demand, Lord. I will not break apart the family he already has. But I will wait. Even if years pass, even if the world forgets me, I will wait. And if he never comes to me as a husband, then let me die as the woman who prayed for him every night."

Her lips quivered, but a serene calm spread across her face as she pressed her forehead to the altar. "Give me strength, Jesus. Strength to carry this love without bitterness. Strength to smile when I see him with others. Strength to believe that love unfulfilled is still holy."

A silence deeper than silence filled the chapel. The faint hum of the night wind rattled the windows, and the old cross above seemed to watch her with solemn grace.

When she finally rose, her eyes were red but resolute. She wiped her tears, placed a hand over her chest, and whispered one last time:

"Only Lukas. No other."

Then she turned, her dress brushing softly against the wooden floor, and walked out into the moonlight. Her vow was sealed—not with rings or promises spoken aloud, but with prayer.

And from that night forward, Keem Marisol Arteshian carried a hidden truth in her heart: she would live her days as servant, sister, and saint… But in her soul, she would always belong to Lukas alone.

The skyscraper headquarters of Martin Global shimmered like a pillar of glass and steel in the heart of the financial district. Inside, the air buzzed with energy—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, assistants hurrying across polished marble floors. In the midst of it all, Lukas sat in his corner office on the top floor, reviewing contracts worth billions, his face unreadable but his presence commanding.

It was on such a day that Keem walked into this world.

Dressed in a graceful ivory blouse and tailored navy skirt, her hair tied neatly back, Keem's appearance was modest yet radiant. She had applied for the role of Charitable Head Department and HR Representative—a position Lukas himself insisted be filled with someone trustworthy, someone who lived for more than just profit. When she stepped into the waiting area, the staff whispered. There was something about her aura, a serenity that cut through the usual tension of high finance.

The interview panel, seasoned executives hardened by decades of corporate wars, found themselves disarmed by Keem's calm conviction. She spoke of service, of how wealth was not only meant to grow but to heal, to uplift communities. Her stories of leading soup kitchens, organising drives, and guiding children's choirs were not boardroom strategies—but they resonated with something higher.

When Lukas himself entered the room to observe, his gaze locked with hers. For a moment, the skyscraper's walls and the noise of Wall Street seemed to fade. He saw not just the girl from Sergeantsville's church but a woman who could bridge two worlds—the sacred and the worldly.

The head of recruitment cleared his throat nervously. "Mr Martin, we've finished reviewing the candidates, but…" He gestured toward Keem. "This one is… exceptional."

Lukas stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He scanned her résumé, then looked up again. "Tell me, Miss Arteshian. Why do you want to work here?"

Keem met his eyes without hesitation. "Because I believe money without mercy is empty. And I know you don't want this company to be empty. You want it to matter."

The silence in the room was heavy. Executives exchanged uncertain glances, unsure whether her words were too bold.

But then Lukas smiled faintly. "You're hired."

Gasps rippled through the panel. No further questions, no second interviews. Just two words that sealed her fate.

From that day on, Keem became part of Martin Global—not as a faceless employee, but as the living heart of its charitable wing. While Lukas commanded the empires of finance, technology, and sport, Keem quietly transformed the company's image—turning cold wealth into warm light. The boardroom had gained its conscience.

And for Lukas, though he never admitted it aloud, the presence of Keem in his office felt like something more than fate—it felt like destiny circling back into his life, tying together threads he thought had long unravelled.

From the moment Keem took her seat at Martin Global as Head of Charity and HR, the atmosphere of the company shifted. What had once been a place defined by cold efficiency and raw ambition now carried an undercurrent of compassion and purpose. While Lukas managed colossal deals, oversaw markets and guided technology empires, Keem quietly transformed the charitable division into something far greater than a tax write-off.

Under her leadership, the company's giving became strategic and heartfelt. Schools were built in underfunded towns, clinics rose in places that had gone without doctors for decades, and disaster relief funds were dispatched within hours instead of weeks. The once-sceptical executives soon realised Keem was not merely a symbol—she was a force.

Lukas noticed it too. He watched as billions moved through the charity division, his accountants raising their eyebrows at the enormous sums being signed off. When questions arose, Lukas would simply wave his hand. "If it saves lives and builds futures, it's worth it. I'll balance it on the tax side."

And he did. Every quarter, when the colossal amounts funnelled into charity were tallied, Lukas's financial genius ensured those figures were deducted with surgical precision against the company's vast profits. To outsiders, it looked like a clever tax strategy. To Keem, it was a partnership of vision—her passion and his acumen intertwining.

Employees began to whisper about her too. To many, she was not just the charitable head but the soul of Martin Global. She worked tirelessly, often staying late to review proposals and personally calling grassroots leaders to ensure funds reached the right hands. When reporters tried to pry into Lukas's empire, they always found themselves writing about Keem instead—the modest young woman who turned billions into blessings.

One evening, after reviewing yet another stack of reports, Lukas leaned back in his chair and looked across the desk at her. "You're doing more than I expected, Keem. More than I thought was possible."

She smiled softly, setting down her pen. "You gave me the resources, Lukas. All I did was give them meaning."

For a long moment, silence hung in the office. Beyond the glass windows, the city glittered with its endless chase for wealth. But here, in this room, something different was being built—a legacy that outlived profit margins.

And though Lukas never said it aloud, he knew this: in a world where banks and rivals measured their power in numbers, his true strength lay in the quiet grace of a woman who taught him that money, when wielded with mercy, could reshape the world.