Chapter 3: Omarion
775 Words
Sumayah sat at her desk long after her hands stopped shaking.
Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened computer screen. Wide eyes, lips slightly parted, disbelief etched into every line of her face.
“Let’s get married.”
The words replayed over and over in her mind, refusing to make sense no matter how many times she tried to rearrange them, this couldn’t be real.
She’d spent six years fighting her way into a stable life. Six years of rejection emails, temporary contracts, and sleeping in apartments so small they felt like borrowed space.
Hills Ventures had been her breakthrough and the first place that saw her worth without pity. And now her boss wants to marry her?
She pressed her palms flat against the desk, grounding herself.
This was exactly the kind of chaos she avoided. Powerful men didn’t make harmless offers. There was always a cost, even when they pretended otherwise.
Her phone vibrated softly.
A text from an unknown number. “Please come back to my office.”
Her stomach tightened.
She considered ignoring it. Walking out. Pretending the conversation never happened, but fear whispered louder than pride.
Fear of losing her job. Fear of being replaced. Fear that saying no too firmly could still ruin her.
She stood, smoothing her skirt, and walked back toward his office like someone approaching a storm.
She stepped in and walked nervously towards his desk.
“You called for me sir” Sumayah said with a low tone.
Omarion didn’t offer her a seat this time, He placed a document on the desk between them and slid it toward her.
“Read.”
She stared at it warily. “What is this sir?”
“The truth,” he replied.
Sumayah picked it up, her eyes skimming the page. Legal language. Ownership clauses. Government oversight.
Her breath caught as understanding dawned.
“This is about the company,” she said slowly.
“Yes and why you’re being forced into this marriage.”
He didn’t deny it. “I’m being cornered.”
Her shoulders loosened just slightly and not with relief, but clarity. This wasn't a desire. It wasn't an attraction. It was desperation.
“That still doesn’t explain why you chose me,” she said.
Omarion leaned against the desk, crossing his arms.
“You have no family that can interfere. No past scandals. No ambitions tied to my name.”
“That’s not a compliment.” She looked up with a smirk he didn’t notice.
“It’s honesty.” He said.
She flipped through the pages, hands trembling. “You want a wife on paper, someone convincing enough for the public, quiet enough for the board, disposable enough to walk away after.”
“Yes.” Omarion replied with a serious tone.
The bluntness stunned her.
“And what happens to me after?” she asked.
“You get financial security,” he said calmly. “A clean divorce, and a future you won’t have to struggle for.”
She laughed, sharp and humorless. “You make it sound generous.”
“It is.” He replied.
“To you,” she shot back.
Silence fell again, thick and uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to answer today,” Omarion said finally. “But you should know this, if I lose the company, you lose your job anyway. New ownership cleans house.”
The words landed exactly where he intended them to.
Her heart sank.
“You’re threatening me.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m telling you the reality.”
Sumayah closed the folder slowly.
She had spent her life believing that hard work was enough. That integrity would protect her. But standing in front of Omarion Hills, she realized something terrifying.
Power didn’t care how honest you were.
She took a deep breath. “How long?” she asked softly.
“One year,” he replied. “After that, we divorce.”
“And during that year?”
“We perform,” he said. “Publicly. Convincingly.”
Her throat tightened. “And privately?”
“Separate lives,” he said without hesitation.
She studied his face, searching for cracks. For arrogance. For cruelty but Instead, she found exhaustion.
“I need time,” she said.
He nodded. “Forty-eight hours.”
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
“You won’t regret this,” he said.
She didn’t look back. “I already do.” Speaking in her mind.
And as Sumayah walked out of his office, one truth echoed loudly in her chest.
Some contracts didn’t need signatures to trap you.
They only needed fear.
- Writer
