His Arrogant CEO

The King and His Queen

"Mr. Malik, the board is waiting," Sara's voice came through the intercom. "They want to vote on removing you as CEO. They say you're... unstable after the shooting."

Zayan didn't even look up from my stomach. He was sitting on the floor of our bedroom, his ear pressed against my 3-month bump, listening. "Did you hear that, baby? Auntie Sara thinks your Baba is unstable."

"Zayan," I sighed, running my fingers through his hair. "The meeting started 20 minutes ago. Malik Industries needs you."

"Malik Industries has been running for 50 years without me. But my baby heard his Baba's voice for the first time today," he said, kissing my belly. "Nothing is more important than that."

This was the new Zayan Malik. The arrogant CEO who lived for board meetings and billion-dollar deals now missed meetings to feel his baby kick. The man who swore he'd never love again now told our unborn child bedtime stories every night.

But the world wasn't ready to let him be happy.

"Zayan, Danish leaked the CCTV footage," Sara burst into our room, ignoring my gasp and cover. "The footage of you... jumping in front of Inaya. Taking the bullet."

Zayan finally stood up, his face turning to ice. The old Zayan. The dangerous one. "And?"

"The media is calling you weak. Saying Malik Industries CEO is whipped by a 22-year-old girl. Stocks dropped 12% this morning. The board thinks you're compromised because of... her." She looked at me with disgust.

"Get out," Zayan said quietly. Too quietly.

"But sir, if you don't address the board—"

"I said GET OUT!" He roared, and the entire mansion shook. Sara ran.

I touched his arm. "Zayan, she's right. Your company—"

"Is NOTHING without you," he turned to me, cupping my face. "Inaya, listen to me. I spent 28 years building an empire of money and glass. It took one bullet, one second of thinking I lost you, to realize it's all worthless. You are my empire. You and this baby. If the board doesn't like it, they can all go to hell."

Tears filled my eyes. "But your Dada built this company. Your Abbu died for it. You can't just—"

"I can and I will," he said, pulling out his phone. "Board meeting. Now. Video call."

Within minutes, 12 old men appeared on the TV screen in our bedroom. All looking angry, uncomfortable, seeing Zayan in a t-shirt, holding his pregnant wife.

"Gentlemen," Zayan smiled. The cold, cruel smile that made billionaires piss themselves. "I hear you want to vote me out?"

"Zayan, beta," Uncle Rashid started. "We're worried. First Aiza, now this girl, now a baby. You're emotional. Emotional men make bad business decisions. The Danish incident proves—"

"The Danish incident proves that I will take a bullet for my family," Zayan cut him off. "And if any of you think that's weakness, you're fired. All of you."

The board went silent.

"Let me make this clear," Zayan continued, his hand protective on my stomach. "This is my wife. Inaya Malik. The mother of my child. The woman I love more than my own life. She is not 'this girl'. She is the Queen of Malik Industries. And if you can't respect her, you can't work for me."

"Zayan, the stocks—"

"Will recover in 24 hours," he smirked. "Because in 24 hours, I'm announcing my marriage, my heir, and the fact that Danish Khan tried to murder my pregnant wife. Public sympathy will shoot our stocks through the roof. And Danish will be arrested before sunset."

The old men looked at each other. They knew Zayan Malik never bluffed.

"Also," Zayan added, his voice deadly soft. "From today, 51% shares of Malik Industries are being transferred to my wife's name. Inaya Malik is now the majority shareholder. If I die, she controls everything. If I live, we control it together. Any objections?"

Silence. Then Uncle Rashid smiled. "No objections, son. Welcome to the board, Mrs. Malik."

The call ended. I stared at Zayan, shocked. "You... you made me majority owner? Zayan, that's billions!"

"You made me a father," he whispered, kissing me. "You made me human again. You deserve the world, Inaya. This is just the beginning."

That evening, Zayan called a press conference. Standing there, in front of 100 cameras, his arm around my 3-month bump, he said:

"My name is Zayan Malik. Three months ago, I was shot protecting my wife and unborn child from my step-brother, Danish Khan, who also murdered my fiancée Aiza 3 years ago. Today, Danish is being charged with attempted murder. And today, I'm introducing you to the reason I'm still alive. My wife, Inaya Malik. My queen. My everything."

He turned to me, got on one knee in front of the whole world, and pulled out a ring. Not the 10-carat one. A new one. Simple. Gold. With our baby's due date engraved inside.

"Inaya Ahmed," his voice broke. "Will you marry me? Again? For real this time? Not for contract. Not for your father. Not for 10 crore. But for me? For us? For forever?"

I cried. The whole of Pakistan cried watching live TV. "Yes," I sobbed. "A thousand times yes, you arrogant, impossible, beautiful man."

He slid the ring on my finger and stood, kissing me in front of millions. The headlines next morning broke the internet:

"ARROGANT CEO ZAYAN MALIK BOWS FOR LOVE"

"FROM CONTRACT MARRIAGE TO BILLION-DOLLAR ROMANCE"

"MRS. MALIK: THE WOMAN WHO TAMED THE BEAST"

Stocks didn't just recover. They doubled.

Danish was arrested that night, found hiding in Karachi. He screamed as police dragged him away: "This isn't over! The Malik empire will burn!"

Zayan just held me tighter, whispering in my ear: "Let him try. I have my queen. I have my heir. I have everything. He has nothing."

That night, for the first time in 3 years, Zayan Malik slept peacefully. No nightmares. No guns under the pillow. Just his hand on my stomach, his lips on my forehead, and his heart finally at home.

The arrogant CEO had fallen. But he didn't fall down.

He fell in love. And he rose as a king.

With his queen by his side.

And their kingdom was just beginning.