seven days
The hospital bill on the table had too many zeros.
Lola Adeyemi read it again. Seven million naira. Due in seven days.
Her father was in ICU on the third floor. The doctors said he needed another surgery or he wouldn’t make it. The bank manager said if she didn’t pay, they would take her father’s house on Friday. The only home she had left.
She left the bank with her hands shaking. Two jobs and she still couldn’t save ten thousand in a month. Where was she supposed to find seven million?
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
“Miss Adeyemi? This is Mrs. Cole, assistant to Mr. Elijah Sterling. Mr. Sterling would like to meet you. There is a job offer.”
Lola almost hung up. “What kind of job pays enough to clear a hospital debt?”
“A marriage,” the woman said simply. “A contract marriage. Six months. Ten million naira.”
Lola stopped walking. People on the street stared as she stood frozen.
“Elijah Sterling?” Lola whispered. “The Sterling Group CEO? The man on Forbes?”
“Yes. He needs a wife for business reasons. You need money. It is a practical arrangement.”
Practical. That was one word for it.
That night Lola sat by her father’s hospital bed. The machines beeped. His hand was cold in hers.
“Daddy, I don’t know what else to do,” she said.
The next morning she stood in front of Sterling Tower. 42 floors of glass. The biggest building in Lagos.
The receptionist led her to the top floor. The doors opened to an office bigger than her entire house.
Elijah Sterling stood by the window. Tall. Black suit. He didn’t turn around when she entered.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I almost didn’t come.”
Now he turned. Dark eyes. Cold. Assessing her like she was a business deal.
“Miss Adeyemi. Here are the terms. You marry me. You play the role of my wife for six months. You attend events. You sign the papers. You do not ask questions about my business. In return, I pay your father’s debt and give you ten million.”
Lola’s throat was dry. “Why me?”
“Because you are desperate. Desperate people don’t cause problems.”
The words cut. But he wasn’t wrong.
He slid a folder across the desk. Inside was a marriage contract. And a pen.
“Seven days,” he said. “That’s how long you have to decide. After that, I find someone else.”
Lola looked at the pen. Then at the contract.
Her father had seven days.
And she had one signature to save him.
She picked up the pen.