Claimed By The Cold CEO

The War Begins.

The photos hit i********: at 8 PM sharp.

*“Damien Adewale and Wife Amara Share First Look at Home Life”*

Within an hour:

2.3 million likes.

40,000 comments.

Amara sat in her father’s hospital room, phone in her lap, heart sinking with every scroll.

_“She’s a gold digger.”_

_“How did a nobody get Damien Adewale?”_

_“She looks uncomfortable. This is fake.”_

The worst ones had her face circled in red, compared to Damien’s ex-fiancée. A lawyer from one of Lagos’s most powerful families.

“Papa, look at this,” she said, turning the screen away before he could see.

Her father didn’t need to. He reached for her hand, his grip weak but steady.

“Let them talk, pikin. Your life is not in their mouths. It’s in God’s hands.”

Amara nodded. Her chest still felt tight.

Then her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

_“Meet me at Café 7. Now. We need to talk about your husband.”_

No name. But the timing was too perfect.

Attached was a photo.

Amara at 19, receiving her first-class degree.

A photo that had never been posted online.

Someone had been digging.

---

Café 7 was half empty.

A woman in her late 20s sat in the corner, arms crossed, designer bag on the table like a shield.

“You’re Amara,” she said. Not a question.

“And you are?”

“Chioma Adewale. Damien’s cousin. And I think you’re lying.”

Amara sat down anyway.

“About what?”

“About being in love with him. About this marriage being real.” Chioma leaned forward, voice low and sharp.

“Damien doesn’t do love. He does leverage. So what did he offer you? Money? A job? Blackmail?”

Amara’s stomach dropped.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because my brother was supposed to marry him. Because our family has been waiting for this merger for 5 years.”

Chioma’s eyes flashed.

“And because if this falls apart, it’s not just Damien who loses.”

She slid an envelope across the table.

“Inside is a contract termination clause. Sign it, and I’ll make sure you and your father are taken care of. No scandal. No debt.”

Amara stared at the envelope.

“And if I don’t?”

Chioma’s smile was ice.

“Then I go to the press with what I know. And we find out how much Damien’s ‘perfect marriage’ is really worth.”

Amara didn’t touch it.

She stood up instead, hands trembling.

“Tell Damien yourself.”

She walked out, leaving the envelope on the table.

Outside, Lagos was loud and indifferent.

Inside, Amara’s chest felt like it was caving in.

She’d thought the hardest part was signing the contract.

She was wrong.

The hardest part was realizing—

She’d just stepped into a war she didn’t know how to fight.

And Damien hadn’t even told her she was on the battlefield.

[To Be Continued…]