The Billionaire's fake bride

Ruth adjusted the strap of her faded handbag as she stepped out of the clinic. Her nurse uniform smelled of antiseptic, blood, and sweat. Another 12-hour shift, and yet again, no pay. The streets of Yaba were loud, crowded, and unforgiving. She walked quickly, not just because it was getting dark — but because she hated going home. Home meant hunger. Home meant a grandmother who blamed her for everything. Home meant reality. Her phone buzzed. Grandma: “Ruth, your brother hasn’t eaten since morning. There’s no garri, nothing. You just sleep at that hospital and come back empty-handed.” Ruth's chest tightened. She checked her account balance: ₦620. Just ₦300 for transport. That left her with ₦320 for two people to eat. > “I’ll sort it out, Mama,” she lied, her voice tight. As she walked toward the bus stop, her phone rang again. Unknown number. > “Hello?” > “Is this Miss Ruth Ijeoma?” a calm male voice asked. > “Yes? Who's this?” > “My name is Henry Adenuga. I was told you’re honest, smart… and desperate. I need a wife. A fake one. For six months. I’ll pay you ₦2 million.” Ruth stopped walking. > “Excuse me?” > “No s*x. No romance. Just appearances. You’ll pretend to be my wife at events, dinners, and for my family. After six months, we sign divorce papers and go our separate ways.” She looked around, as if the streets were listening. Her throat was dry. > “Why me?” > “Because I don’t want drama. And I don’t trust rich girls. Think about it. You have 48 hours to say yes. If you do, you get a ₦200,000 upfront payment.” The line went dead. Ruth stood still as Lagos moved around her like noise. Her phone battery hit 4%. A child brushed past her. A bus conductor shouted “Ojuelegba, one more seat!” > ₦2 million for six months? It sounded like a joke… But everything in her life felt like a joke already. Maybe this was the first serious thing to happen to her. Maybe, just maybe… she was about to enter a deal that would change everything.