*Book Title:* Sweet Karma *Chapter 1: The Wedding That Never Was* On the night that was supposed to be my wedding night, I was scrubbing the floor of a cheap bar. My white wedding gown was still hanging in my wardrobe at home, untouched. My makeup was smeared from tears, not from kisses. "Amara! Table six needs drinks! Are you dead?" My boss shouted. I quickly stood up. My name is Amara. And my life had become a bitter joke. Just twelve hours ago, I was supposed to walk down the aisle to marry David - my boyfriend of five years. The man I loved since university. But he never came. Instead, I got a video on WhatsApp. A video of David... on his knees, proposing to my own elder sister, Ifunanya. "My dear sister," her voice message followed. "He said you were too boring. Too local. He wants a real woman. Don't wait for him, okay? We are already at the airport. We are flying to Dubai for our honeymoon." I collapsed in my wedding dress in the middle of my own decorated living room. My mother just looked at me and said, "Maybe it's your fate. Forgive them." Forgive them? After I paid for half of that wedding with my small business savings? I lost everything that day. My boyfriend, my sister, and my savings. So I had to take this night job at the bar to pay rent. As I carried the tray of drinks to table six, I wasn't looking, and I bumped into someone hard. Beer poured all over his expensive black suit. "Are you blind?!" A deep, cold voice snapped. I looked up, terrified. He was tall, handsome in a scary way. His eyes were cold as ice. He wore a suit that cost more than my one-year rent. Everyone in the bar went silent when he stood up. "I... I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," I stammered, trying to clean his suit with my dirty rag. He grabbed my wrist. Hard. "Do you know how much this suit costs? Can your entire life afford it?" Tears filled my eyes. "Please, sir, I will work... I will pay..." He stared at my face. His angry eyes slowly changed. He looked at my tired face, my red eyes from crying all day. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly. "Amara... Amara Okoro," I said. He gave a small, dangerous smile. "Amara. Interesting. My name is Ryan Black." Ryan Black. The name everyone in this city fears. The billionaire who owns half the city. The man who never smiles. "Come with me," he said. "What?" "I said come with me. You ruined my suit. You will pay for it. But not with money." My heart stopped. What does he mean? He leaned close to my ear and whispered words that changed my life forever. "Marry me. Tonight. I need a wife for one year, and you need revenge. Let's show them what karma really means." --- Got it, you want SHORT version so Stary will approve faster. Here is Chapter 2 in *less than 200 words* - copy this one: --- *Chapter 2: A Deal With The Devil* "Marry me," Ryan Black said. I thought I heard wrong. I just poured beer on his expensive suit. "Please sir, I will wash it, I will work free," I begged. "I don't need a cleaner. I need a wife," he said. "My grandfather will take my company if I don't marry before tomorrow. I need a simple wife for one year. No drama." He showed me a photo on his phone. It was my sister Ifunanya and my ex David at the airport. She was wearing my wedding shoes. "One year marriage. Live in my house. Act as my wife in public. After one year, we divorce. You get 10 million naira and a house. And I will make them kneel before you." 10 million? That would change my life. "Why me?" "Because you have nothing to lose. And you need revenge." I looked at the photo again and clenched my fist. "Bring the papers," I said. I signed: Amara Okoro. He signed: Ryan Black. "Let's go home, wife," he said as his Rolls Royce waited. --- --- *Chapter 3: The Mansion And The Return* The Rolls Royce didn't drive. It floated. I had never entered a car like that in my life. The leather seat was so soft I was afraid my bar uniform would dirty it. The inside smelled like money, like cold perfume and fresh air conditioning. Ryan Black sat beside me, his long legs crossed, looking at his phone as if I wasn't even there. As if he didn't just buy a wife from a bar. "Stop fidgeting," he said without looking up. "Sorry," I whispered. My hands were shaking. We drove for almost forty minutes. We left the noisy area where the bar was, left the small streets of Kaduna, and entered a place I had only seen on Instagram. Big gates, tall palm trees, houses that looked like white castles. The gate opened and we entered the biggest compound I had ever seen. "This is... your house?" I asked, my mouth open. "This is one of them. My private villa. No journalists here. You will stay here until you learn how to be Mrs. Black." The car stopped. A woman in uniform opened my door. "Welcome home, Madam," she said. Madam. No one had ever called me madam. Yest

*Book Title:* Sweet Karma*Chapter 1: The Wedding That Never Was*On the night that was supposed to be my wedding night, I was scrubbing the floor of a cheap bar.My white wedding gown was still hanging in my wardrobe at home, untouched. My makeup was smeared from tears, not from kisses."Amara! Table six needs drinks! Are you dead?" My boss shouted.I quickly stood up. My name is Amara. And my life had become a bitter joke.Just twelve hours ago, I was supposed to walk down the aisle to marry David - my boyfriend of five years. The man I loved since university.But he never came.Instead, I got a video on WhatsApp. A video of David... on his knees, proposing to my own elder sister, Ifunanya."My dear sister," her voice message followed. "He said you were too boring. Too local. He wants a real woman. Don't wait for him, okay? We are already at the airport. We are flying to Dubai for our honeymoon."I collapsed in my wedding dress in the middle of my own decorated living room.My mother just looked at me and said, "Maybe it's your fate. Forgive them."Forgive them? After I paid for half of that wedding with my small business savings?I lost everything that day. My boyfriend, my sister, and my savings.So I had to take this night job at the bar to pay rent.As I carried the tray of drinks to table six, I wasn't looking, and I bumped into someone hard. Beer poured all over his expensive black suit."Are you blind?!" A deep, cold voice snapped.I looked up, terrified.He was tall, handsome in a scary way. His eyes were cold as ice. He wore a suit that cost more than my one-year rent. Everyone in the bar went silent when he stood up."I... I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," I stammered, trying to clean his suit with my dirty rag.He grabbed my wrist. Hard."Do you know how much this suit costs? Can your entire life afford it?"Tears filled my eyes. "Please, sir, I will work... I will pay..."He stared at my face. His angry eyes slowly changed. He looked at my tired face, my red eyes from crying all day."What's your name?" he asked suddenly."Amara... Amara Okoro," I said.He gave a small, dangerous smile. "Amara. Interesting. My name is Ryan Black."Ryan Black. The name everyone in this city fears. The billionaire who owns half the city. The man who never smiles."Come with me," he said."What?""I said come with me. You ruined my suit. You will pay for it. But not with money."My heart stopped. What does he mean?He leaned close to my ear and whispered words that changed my life forever."Marry me. Tonight. I need a wife for one year, and you need revenge. Let's show them what karma really means."---*Chapter 2: A Deal With The Devil*"Marry me," Ryan Black said.I thought I heard wrong. I just poured beer on his expensive suit."Please sir, I will wash it, I will work free," I begged."I don't need a cleaner. I need a wife," he said. "My grandfather will take my company if I don't marry before tomorrow. I need a simple wife for one year. No drama."He showed me a photo on his phone. It was my sister Ifunanya and my ex David at the airport. She was wearing my wedding shoes."One year marriage. Live in my house. Act as my wife in public. After one year, we divorce. You get 10 million naira and a house. And I will make them kneel before you."10 million? That would change my life."Why me?""Because you have nothing to lose. And you need revenge."I looked at the photo again and clenched my fist."Bring the papers," I said.I signed: Amara Okoro.He signed: Ryan Black."Let's go home, wife," he said as his Rolls Royce waited.------*Chapter 3: The Mansion And The Return*The Rolls Royce didn't drive. It floated.I had never entered a car like that in my life. The leather seat was so soft I was afraid my bar uniform would dirty it. The inside smelled like money, like cold perfume and fresh air conditioning. Ryan Black sat beside me, his long legs crossed, looking at his phone as if I wasn't even there. As if he didn't just buy a wife from a bar."Stop fidgeting," he said without looking up."Sorry," I whispered. My hands were shaking.We drove for almost forty minutes. We left the noisy area where the bar was, left the small streets of Kaduna, and entered a place I had only seen on Instagram. Big gates, tall palm trees, houses that looked like white castles. The gate opened and we entered the biggest compound I had ever seen."This is... your house?" I asked, my mouth open."This is one of them. My private villa. No journalists here. You will stay here until you learn how to be Mrs. Black."The car stopped. A woman in uniform opened my door. "Welcome home, Madam," she said.Madam. No one had ever called me madam. Yesterday I was being called "that jilted girl". Today, madam.Inside, the house was not a house. It was a glass palace.