sweet karma

*Book Title:* Sweet Karma (title can stay, but characters names changed) *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 w******p. 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 i********:. 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. The lights were automatic. The floor was so clean I could see my own face. A staircase that looked like it belonged in a Hollywood movie curved up to the second floor. "Your room is upstairs, first door on the right. My room is opposite. Don't enter my room without knocking. My housekeeper, Mama Nkechi, will bring you clothes. You cannot wear that uniform tomorrow," Ryan said, walking to his own room without waiting. I stood in the living room alone, carrying my small nylon bag that contained only my phone and my old purse. I felt like a thief who entered a place she didn't belong. "Madam, come," Mama Nkechi, a kind-looking older woman, touched my hand. "Oga has bought clothes for you." She led me to the room. When she opened the wardrobe, I gasped. Dresses. Shoes. Bags. All with tags. All new. All my size. How did he know my size? "How..." "Oga is very observant, Madam. He told us to buy size 10, medium. He said you are slim but not too slim," Mama Nkechi smiled. I touched a red dress. It was silk. It probably cost more than my entire bar salary for three months. "Take your bath, Madam. Dinner is in 30 minutes." I entered the bathroom. The bathroom alone was bigger than my entire rented room. There was a bathtub, a standing shower, hot water, cold water, and bottles of expensive soaps I couldn't pronounce. I stood under the hot shower and for the first time since David left me, I cried properly. Not the ugly crying from yesterday, but quiet tears. Tears of relief, of shame, of fear. What have I entered? After bathing, I wore a simple white nightgown from the wardrobe. It was soft like baby skin. I came downstairs. Ryan was already at the dining table, still in his beer-stained suit, working on his laptop. He looked up when I came. For a second, he stopped breathing. I saw it. His eyes moved from my wet hair to my bare legs, then quickly back to his laptop. "You look... different," he said. "Thank you for the clothes." "Sit. Eat." Mama Nkechi served us. Fried rice, grilled chicken, salad, and a drink I had never seen. I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning because of wedding stress. I started eating fast, then remembered he was watching and tried to eat slowly. "You can eat fast. I don't care," he said. I smiled small and continued. "You have a meeting tomorrow," he said while typing. "My 30th birthday party. 7pm. At Black Hotels, Asokoro. Every important person in Abuja will be there. Including your sister and your ex." I almost choked. "How did you bring them back from Dubai?" "I told you. I own the hotel. I told the manager to tell them there was a problem with their payment and their honeymoon package was cancelled. They flew back this morning. They are currently in my hotel, complaining. I invited them for my party as 'compensation'." I stared at him. This man was dangerous. "Why are you doing all this for me?" "I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for me. I need my grandfather to believe I am happily married before he dies. He is sick. He will be at the party tomorrow. If he sees my beautiful wife, he will sign the company papers. And if your enemies happen to be humiliated in the process, that's just... sweet karma." Sweet karma. The title of my pain. "I don't know how to act as a billionaire's wife," I whispered. "I will teach you. Rule one: Never look down when people talk to you. Look them in the eye. Rule two: Don't explain yourself. Billionaires don't explain. Rule three: When I touch you tomorrow, don't flinch. We have to look like we love each other." "Touch me?" "My grandfather will want to see us dance, hug, maybe kiss on the cheek. Can you handle that?" My cheeks turned red. David was the only man I ever kissed. And now this cold billionaire was talking about touching me. "It's just acting," he said coldly. "Yes. Just acting," I repeated. We finished eating in silence. As I stood up to go to my room, he said, "Amara." "Yes?" "Your sister posted a video today. Laughing at you. Do you want to see it?" My heart dropped. "No." "You should. So you remember why you signed." He turned his laptop. It was Ifunanya's i********:. She and David were by a pool, drinking, laughing. Her caption: "Finally married to the RIGHT man. Some people wear white gown for nothing. #blessed #upgrade" The comments: "Where is your sister na?" "You snatched her man?" And Ifunanya replied: "I didn't snatch. He ran." My hands shook with anger. Ryan closed the laptop. "Tomorrow, she will see you enter my hotel as Mrs. Black. My wife. Wearing diamonds. Are you ready for that revenge?" I looked at him, tears in my eyes but fire in my heart too. "Yes. I am ready." "Good. Now go and sleep. Tomorrow, you become a queen." I went to my room. The bed was so big I got lost in it. I couldn't sleep. I looked at my phone. 12 missed calls from my mother. A message from my mother: "Your sister is back. Come home. Stop disgracing us." I switched off my phone. The next day came too fast. By 4pm, a team of stylists entered my room. They did my makeup, my hair, my nails. They gave me a long, shining emerald green dress that hugged my body. And diamond earrings. Real diamonds. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see Amara the bar girl. I saw a different woman. A woman who looked expensive, powerful. Ryan was waiting downstairs. He wore a black tuxedo. When he saw me, he went silent. "You... you look stunning," he finally said. "Thank you," I whispered. He walked to me and brought out a small box. Inside was a ring. A huge diamond ring. "Wedding ring. So people believe." He slipped it on my finger. His hand was warm. Mine was cold. "Let's go," he said, offering his hand. "Time to give them sweet karma." The Rolls Royce drove us to Black Hotels. The red carpet was outside. Journalists, lights, cameras. I held his hand tight. And right at the entrance, I saw them. Ifunanya and David. Ifunanya was wearing a cheap red dress, looking confused. David was holding her hand. They were trying to enter but security was stopping them. Then they saw me. Ifunanya's mouth opened wide. David's face went pale white. "Amara?" Ifunanya whispered. Ryan pulled me close, his hand on my waist, and said loudly for everyone to hear, "Darling, do you know these people? They seem to be blocking our hotel entrance." I smiled. A sweet, dangerous smile I had never smiled before. "Oh, just some people I used to know," I said. "Before I became Mrs. Black." --- --- *Chapter 4: The Birthday Party Revenge The security guard pushed Ifunanya and David aside like they were flies. "Sorry sir, sorry ma," the guard said to Ryan. "These two said they were invited but they don't have VIP tags." Ryan didn't even look at them. He looked at me. "Darling, are they with you?" I looked at my sister. Ifunanya's cheap red dress was tight, her makeup was too much. She looked like she was trying too hard. David looked worse. His shirt was not ironed. This was the man I cried for? This was the man I saved money for? "No, love," I said, my voice sweet like honey but cold like ice. "I don't know them." Ifunanya's eyes filled with tears. "Amara? It's me! Ifunanya! Your sister! What are you doing? What is this?" "My wife is Mrs. Amara Black now," Ryan said, his hand tightening around my waist possessively. "And you are?" David stepped forward, angry and confused. "Amara, what nonsense is this? Yesterday you were crying in your wedding gown because I left you, and today you are doing runs with a big man? Do you know who this man is? He is Ryan Black! He doesn't marry local girls like you!" The journalists nearby heard that. Cameras turned. Ryan smiled. That dangerous smile that made everyone in the city fear him. "Local girls like her?" Ryan repeated slowly. "My wife is the most elegant woman in this room. And who are you to talk about her? A man who left his own wedding to run away with his fiancee's sister? I know your story, David. Everyone will know by tomorrow." David's face turned from anger to fear. "You... you know me?" "Of course. I own the company you just applied for a job at last week. David Okafor, graduate of University of Abuja, second class lower, currently unemployed, owing rent in Kubwa. You applied for an accountant position in my company. Your CV is on my desk." David almost collapsed. "What?" I was shocked too. Ryan knew everything. Ifunanya started crying loudly. "Amara please, we are family! Tell him! Tell him to forgive us! David lost his job interview because of you! The hotel said we must pay extra!" I looked at her. This was the sister who sent me a video of my own boyfriend proposing to her. This was the sister my mother always praised because she was fairer, more beautiful. "Family?" I whispered, stepping closer to her so only she could hear. "When you wore my wedding shoes to the airport, did you remember family? When you posted that video laughing at me, did you remember family?" "Amara, I was jealous! You were always the good one! You were getting married first! I just wanted to feel special once!" she sobbed. Ryan pulled me back gently. "Enough drama outside. My grandfather is waiting inside. Let's go, love." We walked past them into the hall. The hall was heaven. Gold decorations, crystal lights, over 200 rich people in expensive clothes. And at the center table, an old man in a wheelchair with oxygen, but with sharp eyes like Ryan's. "Grandfather," Ryan said, bending to hug him. "Happy to see you here." "Ryan, you said you would bring your wife," the old man said, his voice weak but strong. Ryan turned and pulled me forward. "Grandfather, this is my wife, Amara Black." The old man looked at me from head to toe. I was shaking. I remembered Ryan's rules: Don't look down. Look them in the eye. I smiled and bent down. "Good evening, Grandfather. I am Amara. Ryan talks about you everyday." The old man's face softened. "You have kind eyes. Just like my late wife. Ryan, you did well. Finally, you chose a wife with a good heart, not those Lagos i********: girls." The whole hall clapped. Ryan looked at me surprised. I had improvised, but it worked. "So when did you two marry?" Grandfather asked. "Yesterday," Ryan said quickly. "Private wedding. Amara doesn't like crowd." "Yesterday? My birthday gift is that my grandson married? Good! Good! My lawyer! Bring the papers!" A lawyer rushed with documents. I saw it: TRANSFER OF SHARES AND CHAIRMANSHIP TO RYAN BLACK UPON MARRIAGE. Grandfather signed. Ryan signed. Just like that, Ryan became chairman of Black Group. He looked at me with real gratitude for the first time. "Thank you," he whispered. At that moment, Ifunanya and David sneaked into the hall. They were looking for us. The MC announced, "And now, the couple's first dance! Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Black!" Music started. Ryan took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Everyone watched. "I don't know how to dance," I whispered panicked. "Just follow me. And smile. Look like you love me." He placed his hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. We started dancing slowly. His body was so close. His perfume filled my nose. For a contract, it felt too real. "You're doing well," he whispered in my ear, his lips brushing my ear. My heart beat fast, not from revenge, but from something else. From the corner of my eye, I saw David watching us, his fists clenched, jealousy burning his face. Ifunanya was crying silently. This was sweet karma indeed. *Chapter 5: The Contract Begins After the party, we returned to the mansion. It was 11pm. I was tired, my feet hurt from heels. Ryan was quiet in the car. He was now officially a billionaire chairman. "Congratulations, Chairman," I said softly. "Thanks to you," he said. He looked at me, his eyes softer than usual. "You were perfect tonight. My grandfather loved you." "So... will you now... you know... give me my money and I can go? The contract said one year, but your grandfather already signed." He was silent for a long time. "The contract says one year, Amara. And my grandfather is still sick. If he hears we divorced after one day, he will be heartbroken and take the company back. He has 6 months, doctors said. We must stay married for at least 6 months." My heart dropped. 6 months in this house with this cold man? "And what about my sister and David? You said you would make them kneel." "Tomorrow. I have a plan. Now sleep." I went to my room, removed the emerald dress, removed the diamonds. I sat on the bed in my underwear, staring at the huge diamond ring on my finger. A ring that was not from love, but from a deal. There was a knock on my door. "Enter." Ryan stood at the door, without his tuxedo jacket, his white shirt open at the top. He looked tired, human. "Can I... can I come in?" he asked. "Your house." He entered and sat at the edge of my bed, not too close. "Amara, I need to tell you something. My grandfather... he asked me tonight, 'Do you love her?' I said yes. He said, 'If you love her, why are you sleeping in different rooms?' He wants us to... appear as real couple even at home. The nurses and housekeepers report to him." "What do you mean?" "I mean... for the next 6 months, we have to share this room. Or at least, pretend to. The bed is big enough. I will sleep on one side, you on the other. I will never touch you without permission. I promise." My cheeks burned. Share a room? With a man I just met yesterday? "Is that in the contract?" I asked. "No. But it's needed." I looked at his tired eyes. He had also been used his whole life for money. Maybe we were both just lonely people in a big mansion. "Okay. But you don't snore, right?" I joked. He laughed. A real laugh this time. "I don't. But you might." He stood up and went to bring his pillow and blanket. He laid on the far right side of the bed, facing away from me. I laid on the far left, facing away too. "Good night, Mrs. Black," he said. "Good night, Mr. Black." But in the middle of the night, I woke up cold. The AC was too high. I was shivering. In my sleep, I moved closer to the warm body beside me. The next morning, I woke up in his arms. I was lying on his chest, his hand around my waist. His breathing was calm. He was still asleep, looking so peaceful, so handsome, not like the cold billionaire. I tried to move away but his hand tightened, pulling me closer in his sleep. "Don't go..." he murmured in his sleep. "Mama... don't leave me..." Mama? Was he dreaming about his mother? I stayed still, my heart beating. I looked at his face closely. There was a small scar near his eyebrow. He looked vulnerable. Then his eyes opened. He saw me in his arms. I saw him. We both froze. "You... you were cold," he said quickly, letting me go. "I... I know. Sorry." We both sat up, awkward. "Mama Nkechi made breakfast," he said, rushing to the bathroom. I touched my chest. Why was my heart beating so fast for a contract husband? Downstairs, Mama Nkechi was smiling mysteriously. "Madam, Oga, good morning. I am happy you both slept well together. I will tell Grandfather." Ryan and I looked at each other. So that was her job - to spy. *Chapter 6 and Epilogue: Real Love, Real Karma. One week later, Ryan kept his promise. He called Ifunanya and David to his office. I was there, sitting beside him as Mrs. Black, wearing a black suit that cost more than David's yearly salary. David and Ifunanya entered, scared, holding hands. "Sit," Ryan ordered. They sat. "David, you applied for accountant. Your salary would have been 150k. But you have bad character. You left your fiancee on wedding day. How can I trust you with my company's money?" David bowed his head. "Sir, please, it was a mistake. I love Ifunanya..." "You love any woman who is available," Ryan cut him. "So here is my judgment. You will not get the job. And Ifunanya, your i********: business page that sells hair? I am the silent investor in Jumia who can make them ban your page. You have been selling fake hair, right?" Ifunanya started shaking. "No sir, it's original..." "Enough," I said, speaking for the first time. My voice was calm but firm. They both looked at me. "David, for five years I cooked for you, I gave you money for your business, I prayed for you. On our wedding day, you left me for my sister. And Ifunanya, I shared my clothes with you, I defended you when mother scolded you. You took my husband." Tears came to my eyes but I didn't wipe them. "I should hate you. But I don't. Because if you didn't leave me, I would never have met my husband. My real husband. So thank you." I stood up. "Ryan, please don't punish them too much. Just let them go. Let them live with what they did." Ryan looked at me, proud. "My wife is too kind. So this is final. David, you will get a job, but not in my company. I will refer you to my friend's company in Kano - 100k salary, but you must relocate from Abuja. Ifunanya, your page will stay, but you will apologize publicly to your sister for what you did. And you both will never contact my wife again without permission." They nodded, crying. "And one more thing," Ryan added. "Ifunanya, return Amara's wedding shoes you stole." Ifunanya removed the shoes from her bag - my white wedding shoes - and placed them on the floor. We left them there. Three months later. The contract was supposed to be 6 months, but something changed. Ryan and I no longer slept on opposite sides. We slept cuddling. We no longer acted in public only. We acted in private too. He taught me business. He opened a boutique for me in Wuse 2, Abuja - "Amara Black Collections". It was booming. I taught him how to laugh, how to eat amala with hands, how to dance to Burna Boy. One night, while watching a movie in our room, he paused the movie. "Amara," he said, nervous for the first time ever. The billionaire was nervous. "Yes?" "The contract says no falling in love. But I think... I broke the contract." My heart stopped. "Ryan..." "I fell in love with you. Not the Amara who is acting. The real Amara who snores small, who eats chicken like she is fighting it, who forgave her sister. I love you. So will you... will you extend the contract? From one year to forever? Not as contract wife, but as real wife?" I cried. For the first time, tears of joy. "Yes. But you have to propose properly. Not in a bar with beer on your suit." He laughed, brought out the same huge diamond ring, but this time went on one knee. "Amara Okoro, will you marry me again? For real this time?" "Yes, Mr. Black. Yes!" Six months later, Grandfather passed away peacefully. Before dying, he told Ryan, "You chose well. She healed your cold heart." David and Ifunanya? They moved to Kano. Last I heard, they broke up after 2 months because David cheated on Ifunanya with another girl. Sweet karma indeed. And me? I went from a jilted bride scrubbing bar floors to Mrs. Amara Black, owner of three boutiques, wife of the man who owns half the city. My mother now calls me every day. "My daughter, the billionaire wife." And I always tell her, "Mama, it's not about billionaire. It's about sweet karma. When life pours beer on you, find the man whose suit you ruined. He might be your destiny." *THE END* --