MR CEO: A CONTRACT MARRIAGE GONE WRONG

I was at my fashion house that fateful morning when the call that changed everything for me came in. Some customers had placed orders over the weekend, and I had already given instructions to my workers on how to go about them—styles, sizes, fabric choices. I made sure all hands were on deck to give the best to our clients and retain the good name the brand had held within a year. Luckily, our brand would clock one year in a few days. “D’el” is my safe haven. I remember when the painters came to work on my space; I was very specific about making the walls white. I always feel peace here. It’s my happy place. I chose the best interiors, got my favorite mannequin, and every industrial machine I had dreamed of owning. D’el is the brand I built after deciding to leave the life of rendering companionship for money. It wasn’t the life I wanted, but at that time, it felt like the only option I had. My beauty was irresistible as ever—no man could ignore me. But hey, that’s all in the past. I’ve grown so much in such a short time, and I can’t wait to see how far I’ll go with this. I got this dream from my mama. She was a seamstress, and I was always eager to watch her sew. After school and on weekends, I would sit at the machine and try to reach the pedal even when my legs were too short. How nostalgic! But now I’m living it bigger and better. Or so I thought—until things went sour.” The call from Dr. Sam, asking me to come to the hospital and stressing how urgent it was, broke me. Mama had been diagnosed with cancer, and I’d been giving my all to her treatment. The chemotherapy and everything that came with it had been financially draining. But she’s all I’ve got. I lost my dad at a very early age and my kid brother to a fever we couldn’t treat because of money. May their souls rest in peace. I booked a ride and rushed to the hospital. When I got to Dr. Sam’s office, I knocked lightly, and he let me in. He was a handsome man in his mid-thirties. He wore a smile effortlessly, and I bet anyone would mistake him for a model if they saw him outside the hospital walls. “How are you doing, Ella?” he asked. “I’ll be fine if the reason for my visit isn’t as intense as my heart tells me,” I answered. He let out a small smile—probably to calm my nerves—before dropping the bomb. He told me how bad Mama’s health had gotten and how she required urgent surgery. I needed to make half payment for the procedure. I went mute. Why now? I was so confused. I didn’t want to lose my mother. I had been doing everything I could, but it was taking a toll on me. The amount he mentioned was way beyond what I had at the moment. For a moment, I blanked out while sitting in his office. Maybe he thought my gaze was fixed on his well-ironed shirt or the stethoscope around his neck. No, I wasn’t! I was lost in thought—thinking of how to raise the money. Who could I ask? How could I carry this burden? I didn’t even notice when a tear slipped down my cheek until Dr. Sam asked, “Is everything okay, Ella?” “How can everything be okay?” I replied softly. “Dear Ella,” he said gently, “I know you’ve really tried your best. I see your efforts, and how intentional you’ve been in making sure your mother survives. I wish I could do more, but I’ll try to help in the little way I can. Just believe this too will pass. It’s only a phase.” His words were reassuring, but they couldn’t make money fall from heaven. He reminded me of the urgency and explained that they could start the procedure if I could make a reasonable deposit. While I was still deliberating, a knock came on the door. “Sorry, Ella,” Dr. Sam said. “You’ll have to excuse me. That’s an exclusive patient, and we’ll need privacy. Just keep me updated, and please remember—we don’t have time.” “Okay, Doc,” I replied, fighting back tears. I adjusted the tote bag hanging on my shoulder and walked toward the door. That was when I bumped into Lucas Sterling. I hit the briefcase he was carrying, and it fell to the ground. I bent down to pick it up at the same time he did, and our eyes met. I thought he’d be mad, but his face was calm. I already had sorry on my lips, but his piercing blue eyes—so peaceful—stunned me for a moment. He picked up the briefcase, almost brushing my hands away in the process. “Ypu don't have to apologize. It was obviously a mistake,” he said. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, thank you,” I replied quickly. It all happened in seconds, yet I found myself romanticizing his eyes when I had a heavy burden weighing me down. Shaking off the moment, I headed to the restroom. Not because I needed to pee, but because I needed to talk to someone. Not just anyone—my best friend, Abigail. She was the one person I could be vulnerable with. She knew everything—my story, how I got here, every phase of my life. She knew how heavy this one was. I dialed her twice, but she didn’t pick up. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. I cried until my phone rang. It was Abby. I picked up but could barely speak. “Hello, El? Can you hear me? I’m sorry, I had to put Dora to sleep. Talk to me.” “Mama’s health is worse. Dr. Sam says she needs urgent surgery, and I have to make half the deposit.” “Oh dear, you’re not in this alone. I’m here with you, okay?” “I don’t know, Abby. I haven’t even seen her yet. The guilt is eating me up. I don’t want to see her pale, weak, fighting for her life while I almost can’t do anything about it.” “Listen, El. You are strong. We’ll go through this successfully. Let’s be hopeful and believe God for a miracle. It can happen even when we least expect it.” “Aby, I think I’ll have to sell some of my working tools to raise part of the money…” I was still talking when Dr. Sam’s call came in again. “Hold on, Aby. Let me call you back. Dr. Sam is calling.” I walked back to his office, wondering what new thing he had to say that he hadn't said. “Cheer up, Ella. I have great news for you,” he said. Relief washed over me. Could this be the miracle Aby had spoken about? Was Mama cancer-free? Or was the surgery no longer urgent? That was all I could think of that might sound good. And then, excitedly, he said, “The surgery has been paid for anonymously. We can proceed immediately.” I was dumbfounded. “Please, who did this? How? Why?” I asked a dozen questions at once. But yes—a miracle had just happened! Still, one question lingered in my mind. Who could this anonymous helper be?