VOWS OF ASH AND IVORY : The Contact Marriage

The church was full of people who didn’t cry. I stood in my black dress, 18 years old today, and watched my father’s casket get lowered into the ground. `Richard Vance`. Billionaire. CEO. My dad. Gone in one heart attack. "She’s too young to run anything," Aunt Marla whispered behind me. "All that money wasted on a child," Uncle Peter said. I didn’t turn around. Dad taught me one thing: `Vances don’t cry in public. We strike back in private.` By the time we got back to the Vance Mansion, the vultures were already inside. Boxes. Opened drawers. My mother’s jewelry gone from the safe. My cousins were taking paintings off the wall like it was a garage sale. "Get out," I said. My voice shook. Diana, my 20-year-old cousin, laughed. She twirled my dad’s Rolex on her wrist. "Oh sweetie. This isn’t yours anymore. Dad said the company belongs to the family. Not one girl." My chest hurt. Not from grief. From rage. "I’m his only child," I said. "And you’re 18," Aunt Marla smiled. "What do you know about running Vance Industries?" I looked around at my home. At the people who ate at our table for 18 years. And I made a promise. To my dad. To myself. `They will regret this day.` --- *3 MONTHS LATER* I didn’t go to college. I went to war. Law school tutors at 6am. Business classes at 9am. Board meetings at 2pm. I fired 40% of the executives my dad trusted. Most of them were stealing. I sold two useless companies and bought back 51% of Vance Industries shares. Today, I walked into the 50th floor of the Vance Tower in a white power suit. Heels clicking. Hair in a tight bun. No makeup except red lipstick. The entire boardroom stood up when I entered. "Good morning," I said. "I’m Ismaela Vance. Your new CEO." Uncle Peter slammed his hand on the table. "You can’t—" "I can," I cut him off. "And I did. Check the shares, Uncle." Silence. Then one by one, they sat down. I won the first battle. But I was so tired. That night, I sat in my dad’s old office. It still smelled like his cologne. My assistant quit today. Said the "pressure was too much." I needed a new PA. Someone loyal. Someone who wouldn’t sell me out. HR sent 200 resumes. I threw them all away. The next morning, a boy walked into my office 20 minutes late. Hair messy. Cheap suit. Holding two coffees, and he spilled one on my desk. "I’m so sorry Miss Vance! I’m Ethan Carter. I’m here for the PA interview—" He looked up. And froze when he saw me. He was 22. Cute in a messy way. Tired eyes. Honest eyes. His resume said: `Just graduated. No experience. Needs job urgently.` The HR manager whispered, "He’s not qualified, Miss Vance." I should’ve said no. But I remembered how everyone told me I wasn’t qualified either. I pointed at the chair. "Sit. You’re hired. $80k a year. Don’t be late again." Ethan’s mouth dropped open. "But— I don’t even—" "Figure it out," I said, and walked out. He followed me for the next 2 weeks like a lost puppy. Brought me the wrong reports. Called me "Miss" instead of "CEO". But he stayed late. He remembered I like black coffee, no sugar. He made me laugh once when he tried to fix the printer and it exploded. For the first time since dad died... I didn’t feel alone. --- *FRIDAY NIGHT* I was working late when the lawyer came in. Mr. Cole. My dad’s old friend. He looked sick. "Miss Vance," he said. "Your father left a clause in the will." My stomach dropped. "If you are not married by the age of 21, full control of Vance Industries goes to the Vance Family Trust." Meaning: my aunts and uncles. I laughed. It came out bitter. "He did this on purpose." "To protect you," Mr. Cole said softly. "He thought marriage would keep you safe." The door opened. Diana walked in. In a red dress. Smiling like a snake. "I heard the news, cousin," she said. "What a shame. You have 3 years to find a husband." She looked at Ethan, who was standing in the corner holding files. "Or maybe I should help you. I know lots of good men." Her eyes said: `I’m coming for him too.` Ethan looked between us, confused. And I realized. This wasn’t over. The war for my company... was now a war for my heart. *TO BE CONTINUED...*