Contract marriage with the cold CEO

Liam: 6:00 AM. My alarm rings. I am already awake. I have been awake since 5:45 AM, staring at the ceiling of my penthouse. I live on the 40th floor of Blake Tower in Manhattan, New York. Everything here is white, black, and glass. No pictures. No noise. No family photos. I like it empty. Empty means control. I get out of my king-sized bed and walk to my private gym beside my bedroom. Fifty push-ups. Fifty sit-ups. Thirty minutes on the treadmill. I do this every day, even on Sunday. No excuses. Discipline is everything. I finish and go to the bathroom. I shower with cold water for five minutes to sharpen my brain, then hot water for two minutes. I shave my beard clean. I look at myself in the mirror. Liam. Twenty seven years old. I am the CEO of Blake Enterprises, but my father owns the company. I am his heir. People in New York call me the cold billionaire heir. People say I am ruthless. I don't care. My father built Blake Enterprises from nothing. He started with one building and now we own half of Manhattan. He is old now and he sits as Chairman. He made me CEO last year so I can learn to take over everything. He always tells me feelings are for poor men. Business needs a cold heart. My closet is full of suits. Over a hundred suits arranged by color. Black, grey, navy. My suit for today is ready. Black suit, white shirt, and my expensive watch. I go down to my dining room. The long glass table can seat twelve people but I sit alone at the head. My breakfast is black coffee with no sugar, avocado toast, and two boiled eggs. I don't like heavy food. I open my tablet. Our company shares went up by 4% yesterday after we bought the waterfront land. My father will be happy. My phone rings. My assistant. "Sir, your 9 AM meeting with the German investors is confirmed. Your father, the Chairman, also wants to see you after the meeting. Your car is ready downstairs." "Tell my father I will see him. And tell legal to check the contract twice. I don't want any mistake," I say. "Yes sir." I finish my coffee and pick up my briefcase and phone. My driver is waiting by my private elevator. I look down from the 40th floor. New York is so busy down there. Cars, buses, people rushing. But up here it is quiet. This is my world. I was born rich. My father owns the company and I am the heir. Everything is already mine. I have never struggled for anything in my life. Another day to prove to my father I can run his empire. Another day to win. Darlene: 6:00 AM! My phone alarm is shouting! My small phone has a cracked screen and the alarm is too loud! "DARLENE! Wake up! You will miss your bus! Today is your first day at NYU!" Mrs. Andrew is shouting from our small kitchen while hitting her pot. I jump up from my small bed. I am the only child of Mr and Mrs Andrew. We live in a small two-bedroom apartment in Queens, New York. It is not big, but my parents keep it clean. They work very hard. I fold my blanket and fetch water quickly. I brush my teeth fast and wash my face with cold water. I look in our cracked mirror. My natural hair is rough, I couldn't afford to make braids. I pack it into a low ponytail. I run to my room. My clothes are hanging on a nail on the wall. A white shirt and a black skirt. I ironed it last night with our small iron. The shirt is faded but clean. I pack my old school bag. The zip is broken and I use a safety pin. Inside I put my NYU admission letter, two notebooks, my pen , and my water bottle. In the kitchen, Mrs. Andrew is waiting. She and Mr. Andrew both manage a small restaurant here in Queens. They wake up by 4:30 AM every day to open it. That small restaurant is how they paid all my school fees. "My graduate, come and eat," Mrs. Andrew says. She gives me fried eggs and bread. She kept the bread specially for me last night. "Thank you mum. Today is my clearance at NYU. Pray for me," I say eating fast. Mrs. Andrew holds my hands. "My only daughter, God will go with you. You are the first graduate in our family. Your father and I are so proud." Mr. Andrew comes out. He is already wearing his restaurant uniform. "Darlene, my professor! NYU! My daughter is now a university student!" Mr. Andrew says and laughs. "Daddy, I will go by bus so you and mummy won't be late for the restaurant," I say. Mr. Andrew brings twenty dollars. "Take for transport. Don't trek. Take the bus." I hug them both. I smell the spices from their restaurant clothes. I grab my bag and admission letter and run outside. The morning in Queens is cold and busy. People going to work. Cars honking. I run to the bus stop. Many people are waiting. I wait in line holding my bag tight. The MTA bus comes. It is full. I enter and stand because there is no seat. I hold the rail with one hand and my NYU admission letter with the other hand. The bus moves through New York. I look out the window. Big buildings everywhere. NYU is in Manhattan. I have never schooled in Manhattan before. My heart beats fast. Today is my first day at NYU. I am going to study hard. I am going to graduate and get a good job. I will help my parents. Their restaurant job is too stressful. One day I will buy them a big restaurant and a big house. The bus is slow because of traffic. I hold my letter. Darlene Andrew. New York University. Today will be the best day of my life. I am sure.