The rain started just as I stepped out of the hospital, heavy and unrelenting—much like the thoughts flooding my mind. My brother's medical bill was ₦2.5 million. I barely had ₦2,500 in my account. And the doctor's words still rang in my ears:
> "If he doesn't begin treatment by Friday, Zara, he might not make it."
My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to keep moving. I didn't have the luxury to cry, scream, or collapse. I had done all that when the accident happened two weeks ago. Right now, I needed a miracle.
Or something close to one.
"Zara!" a voice called behind me. It was Ifeoma, my best friend and occasional lifesaver. She caught up, panting, holding her umbrella over us both. "You won't believe what just landed on my desk."
"I'm not in the mood for jokes."
"It's not a joke o. One of our major clients—Damien Odukoya—he's looking for a wife."
I stared at her like she'd grown two heads. "And you think I'm what? A spare bride?"
"Zara, listen. It's a contract marriage. Strictly business. One year only. He needs to be married by next month to claim the CEO position permanently. His father's will has conditions."
"And what do I get? A thank-you and a divorce?"
Her voice softened. "₦10 million."
I blinked.
₦10 million.
For one year of pretending to be a wife?
"You're joking."
"I swear on jollof rice and Jesus, I'm not. I got the internal memo at work. His legal team is desperate. He doesn't want drama, scandals, or gold-diggers. He just needs a clean record for twelve months. You're smart, presentable, educated… and best of all, you don't care about fame or his money."
I swallowed. This had to be a dream—or a scam.
"And what's the catch?"
"You'll have to sign an NDA. You'll move into his mansion. Appear at events. No funny business—he's cold, strict, and emotionally unavailable. But it's all legit. I can arrange a meeting if you're serious."
₦10 million.
My mind flashed to Deji, lying weak in the hospital bed. I imagined him getting better, resuming school, laughing again.
"Set the meeting."
The Odukoya estate looked like something out of a billionaire romance novel—tall gates, marble steps, a line of luxury cars, and staff dressed like they were auditioning for a K-drama. I wore my best Zara blazer and prayed no one noticed it was thrifted.
Then I saw him.
Damien Odukoya.
Six foot something. Sharp jawline. Eyes like cold smoke. He didn't smile. Didn't offer a handshake. Just looked me over like I was a pair of shoes he wasn't sure fit.
"You understand what this is?" he asked without preamble.
"A business arrangement."
"Good. I don't do emotions. No drama. You follow the rules, you get paid. Try anything stupid, and I'll make sure you never find work in Lagos again."
I bit my tongue.
He slid a file across the table.
Marriage Contract.
I flipped through it. One year. No intimacy. Must accompany him to family functions. A shared room for appearance. Payment in three installments: ₦3 million on signing, ₦5 million on the six-month mark, and ₦2 million after the final divorce.
"Any questions?"
I looked him in the eye. "Just one. When do we start?"
He smirked slightly—the first expression he'd shown all evening.
"Tomorrow."
Suggested tags for Webnovel (like "contract marriage", "CEO", "strong female lead", etc.)