My Boss is my Husband

Hi, my name is Frix. I am twenty-four years old. I have three hundred dollars in my bank account. And I am sitting in a glass office on the fiftieth floor, holding a marriage contract. The man across from me is my boss. His name is Xwein Smith. He is the CEO of this company. He is also the coldest person I have ever met in my entire life. "You have ten minutes left to read it," he said without looking up from his laptop. His voice was flat. No emotion. Like he was talking about the weather. "I already read it," I said. "Three times." "Then why are you still stalling?" I looked down at the paper in my hands. The words were small. Legal words. Hard words. But I understood the important parts. One year of marriage. Live in his house. Wear his ring. Do not tell anyone the truth. In return… all of my family's debt disappears. My father owed a lot of money. I did not know how much until last week. But when the bank took our house and the men in black suits started calling every hour, I learned very fast. Two hundred thousand dollars. That was the number. I did not have two hundred thousand dollars. I had three hundred dollars. And a job as a junior assistant that paid me almost nothing. Then Xwein called me into his office three days ago. He closed the door. He sat down. And he said five words that changed everything. "I have a deal for you." --- Three days earlier… I was sitting at my small desk outside his office. My phone buzzed in my pocket. My mother: "They came again. Please send something. Anything." I closed my eyes. I had nothing to send. The door to Xwein's office opened. He stood there. Tall. Dark suit. Dark eyes. "Frix," he said. "Come in." I walked into his office. He closed the door behind me. "Sit," he said. I sat. He leaned against his desk and looked down at me. "I know about your father," he said. My heart stopped. "I don't know what you mean, sir." "Don't lie to me," he said. "You owe two hundred thousand dollars. The bank took your house. Your mother is sick." "How do you know that?" "I know everything about my employees. Especially you." He walked to the window. "I am going to give you a chance to fix everything," he said. "One year. You marry me. I pay your debt. Your family gets their house back. Your mother gets her medicine." I thought I heard him wrong. "Marry you?" I said. "It's a contract," he said. "Not a love story. One year. You live in my house. You wear my ring. You pretend to be my wife." "And after one year?" "You walk away. The debt stays paid. You go back to your normal life." "Why me?" "Because I need a wife," he said. "My grandfather's will says I must be married before my next birthday. If I'm not married, I lose the company." "Find someone else." "I don't want anyone else. I want you." "You don't even know me." "I know enough." "You never talk to me. You walk past my desk every day like I'm a piece of furniture." He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I look at you." He pulled a paper from his drawer. "This is the contract. Take it home. Read it. Come back tomorrow with your answer." I took the paper. My hand was shaking. "Frix," he said as I walked to the door. "If you say no, the debt stays. Those men in black suits won't stop coming. They will take everything your family has left." --- Now. The fiftieth floor. "Five minutes," Xwein said. "Can I ask questions?" I said. "Yes." "Do we have to sleep together?" He finally looked up. "No. Unless you want to." "I don't want to." "Then we won't. Separate bedrooms. I will not touch you without your permission." "That's in the contract?" "Page seven. Paragraph three." I flipped to page seven. He was right. "You thought of everything," I said. "I always do." He stood up and sat in the chair next to me. Close. Too close. "Last chance," he said quietly. "Say yes. All your problems disappear. Say no. I walk you out. You go back to your tiny desk. Those men take your mother's house." "That's not fair." "Life is not fair. I am offering you a way out." I looked down at the contract. My father's crying face. My mother's scared voice. My bank account with three hundred dollars. This paper was the only thing standing between my family and destruction. "One year," I said. "Yes." "Separate rooms." "Yes." "You don't touch me." "I don't touch you." "And after one year, I'm free." "Completely free." I took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll marry you." He pulled a pen from his jacket. "Sign on page fifteen." I signed. He signed next to mine. Xwein Smith. "Welcome to the rest of your year," he said. He walked to the door. "Wait," I said. "When do I move in?" "Tonight. My driver will pick you up at seven." "I don't want you to buy me clothes." "You're my wife. You'll look like my wife." "I'm not really your wife." "To the world, you are. To the law, you are. To me… you're a business partner. Nothing more. Nothing less." He opened the door. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late." --- Seven o'clock. I stood outside my apartment with one small suitcase. A black car arrived. Very expensive. The driver opened the door. "Mrs. Smith," he said. "It's Frix," I said. He smiled and did not correct himself. The car drove for twenty minutes. Past tall gates. Up a long road with trees. Then I saw the house. A mansion. Big and white. A fountain in front. The front door opened. Xwein stood there in black pants and a white shirt. Sleeves rolled up. "Seven o'clock. You're on time." He stepped aside. "Come in." Inside was white marble. A big staircase. Paintings on the walls. Everything was clean and perfect and cold. "Your room is upstairs. Follow me." He walked up. I followed. He did not look back. He opened a door. "This is yours." The room was huge. Big bed. Big windows. Big closet. Big bathroom. Bigger than my entire apartment. "Your bathroom is through there. Anything else you need?" "No. This is a lot." "Get used to it." He turned to leave. "Xwein," I said. He stopped. "Thank you. For helping my family. I know you're not doing this for me. But still. Thank you." He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Don't thank me yet." "Why not?" He turned his head and looked at me over his shoulder. "Because a year is a long time. And people change." He walked away. I stood in the middle of my huge new room. My phone buzzed. My mother: "Someone paid the debt. The bank called. We can keep the house. How did this happen?" I wrote back: "I found a way, Mama. Don't worry anymore." She wrote: "God bless you, my daughter. I love you." I sat on the edge of the big bed. The room was quiet. The house was quiet. Everything was quiet. And somewhere downstairs, my new husband was sitting alone in his big empty house. Probably not thinking about me at all. Or maybe he was. The way he looked at me when he said "I look at you"… I could not stop thinking about it. I lay down on the bed. The ceiling was very high. Very white. One year, I told myself. Then I'm free. I closed my eyes. But I did not sleep. Because something in my chest kept whispering: He will never let you go. ---