The Billionaire’s Amnesia

Seven | The Options

L A Y L A



My stomach knotted as I stared out the window of the car. There was still a worried look in Angie's eyes as she gazed at me. I knew I couldn't face James on my own, so I begged Angie to come with me at the last minute.

It was madness to agree to James's proposal. He wanted me to be his wife for a year, and in return, he would use his power and contacts to clear my name from the lies that had destroyed my livelihood.

But it wasn't as simple as that. There was something sinister about his offer, something too good to be true. I didn't trust him one bit, but I also had no other option. I needed to escape from the nightmare I was in, to prove that I was innocent, and get my life back.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Angie asked, glancing at me with concern.

I sighed. "No," I admitted. "But I don't see any other way."

Angie shook her head. "I don't like this guy at all," she said. "He's bad news."

"I know," I said.

"Then why are you going along with his plan?" Angie asked.

I looked at Angie with a sad smile. "Because I'm desperate," I said.

Shortly after, we arrived at James's mansion, a huge and imposing building that loomed over us. The driver parked the car right in front of the entrance of the enormous building.

"Are you ready?" Angie asked me.

I nodded, but I felt a surge of fear. I grabbed my bag and got out of the car. Angie followed me and we walked towards the front door.

A man in a suit approached and opened the door for us. He looked at us with a cold expression.

"Mr. Carter is expecting you," he said. "Please follow me."

He led us through a grand hallway filled with paintings and statues. As we make our way down the long corridor, I'm struck by the opulence of this place. Everything here screams money: the sleek design, the expensive materials, the flawless lighting. But there's something missing. Something warm and inviting. Something alive. This place feels like a museum, not a home. A place to admire, not to live in and I felt out of place and intimidated by the lavish surroundings.

We reached a large wooden door at the end of the hall. The man knocked on it and opened it slightly.

"Miss Johnson and Miss Jones are here, sir," he announced.

A voice from inside said, "Send them in."

The man gestured for us to enter. I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

The room was dark and cold, with a fireplace, a sofa, a desk, and a large window being the only furniture in the room. James sits at his desk with his back to me, gazing out the window at the splendid garden that surrounds his mansion. I can't make out his face, only his silhouette.

He turn his chair around, stood up, and walked towards us. Even though I had seen him before yet his presence still captivated me. He is tall and handsome, with dark hair and piercing hazel eyes. He wore a tailored suit that fit him perfectly.

"I'm happy that you agree to come," he said. " Make yourselves comfortable."

He reached out his hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, then took it. He pulled me close to him and kissed me on the cheek.

He said softly. "Layla, darling, you look lovely today."

I felt a shiver run down my spine. I didn't like the way he touched me or called me darling. It felt wrong and fake.

He let go of me and turned to Angie. He shook her hand politely.

"And you must be Angie," he said. "I'm glad you are here."

Angie smiled nervously. "Thank you for having us," she said.

"I'm happy that you accompany Layla here but this matter requires only Layla and me. Alfred, could you show Ms. Jones around while I discussed the important things with Ms. Johnson?" James asks in seriousness.

"Wait, no. I will not let my best friend be with you alone in this room." Angie fires back, that's why I bring her here.

"I'm not asking, you can go by yourself or I have my guards drag you out instead, your choice," James commands, his voice firm and scary.

"She'll stay with me. Angie will not go..." I protest. Now both of our eyes met each other with fury and frustration, unlike the last time when our eyes are filled with joy and comfort.

"We won't have this conversation.". He cuts me off, "At least not in the presence of others. I prefer to talk privately to my future wife."

Angie growls. "You can't just kick me out—" Before she can finish her sentence, two of Luke's bodyguards lock her arms and drag her out of the room with Alfred, who I assume is his butler, following suit.

"So," he said casually. "Are you ready to sign the contract?"

"She's my best friend."

"I did not invite her. I only invite you." He says as his smirky smile reappears on his face.

I hated this version of him. The more he speaks, the more his words boil my blood. I want to rip his head out so bad right now.

I looked at him with a cold and defiant gaze. "Why do I have to marry you?" I spat out the words, feeling a surge of anger and resentment. "If you want to help me, help me. Don't use this as an excuse to trap me in a marriage I don't want to be in." I could see the frustration in his eyes, but I didn't care. He had no right to force me into something I felt uncomfortable with.

On the outside corner of his lips, a little smile appears. He seems even more attractive when he smiles, which frustrates me.

"Then, what will I gain? he queries. "I'm a businessman and the second-richest person in the world, in case you hadn't noticed. Every choice I make must be advantageous to me."

"What exactly do you want from me?" I ask it again, getting impatient.

He studies me with a piercing gaze, then closes the distance between us. His breath tickles my ear as he murmurs, "Don't you know?" His lips curve into a wicked grin. "I want you, Layla."

My name sounds like a spell on his tongue, sending shivers down my spine. I'm mesmerized by his beautiful eyes, but a flicker of reason warns me to resist him.

I keep my distance as far away from him as I can. I snarl, "Liar."

I'm aware that this man is exploiting me for another purpose. He made it clear that he would always consider how a decision would benefit him before making it. He's one of the youngest billionaires, and there's no way he'd suddenly want to marry me, the w***e of the country. He can easily find any woman he wants, so why would he pick me?

"I don't care what your excuse is," I say with a forceful voice.

"There is absolutely no way that I will get married to you, thus it won't happen. Remember what I said. Thanks, but the answer is no."

His eyes burned into mine as he uttered his warning. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”

I met his gaze defiantly. “I have not.” I had seen through his facade of kindness and generosity. He was nothing but a ruthless manipulator who wanted to control me.

“I never asked for any of this. I never wanted any of it. If you truly wish to help me… then help me. But do not force me to love you or marry you.” My voice trembled slightly, but I held on to my resolve.

The tension in the room was thick as we stood our ground, neither willing to back down.

I turned to leave, hoping to end this confrontation. But his voice stopped me in my tracks. “Layla!” he shouted angrily.

I flinched at the sound of his voice, full of emotion for the first time since our conversation began. I wanted to ignore him and keep walking, but something in his tone made me fear what he might do if I didn’t stop. Slowly, I turned around.

James leaned casually against his desk as if nothing had happened. He looked at me with a calm expression that belied his anger.

“Just one year,” he said softly. “I’ll turn the tables so that the world hears only your version of the story - not that ridiculous one they’ve been fed. I’ll help your aunt get out of debt and get your art gallery back from the bank. All under one condition: you will be my wife for one year.”

I felt a surge of panic as I heard his words. He was offering me a deal that seemed too good to be true. He could help me clear my name, save my aunt, and restore my gallery. But at what cost? To be his wife for one year? To live with him, share his bed, and pretend to love him? To give up my freedom and dignity for his convenience?

I shook my head in disbelief. “No,” I said firmly. “No, I can’t do that. That’s not fair. That’s not right.” I looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would change his mind. Hoping he would see reason.

But he didn’t budge. He smiled coldly and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the only offer you’ll get from me,” he said casually. “Take it or leave it.” He reached for a pen and a piece of paper on his desk and wrote something on it. Then he handed it to me.

It was a contract.

A contract that spelled out the terms of our marriage.

A contract that bound me to him for one year.

A contract that I had to sign if I wanted his help.

I stared at it in horror, feeling trapped.

He watched me with amusement, enjoying my dilemma.

“Well?” he asked impatiently. “What’s your answer?”

To my right, I notice a magazine on the table that features the Italian supermodel that he is rumored to be currently dating. I bent down to take that magazine from the table and throws it at him.

"You wouldn't want to choose me, Mr. Carter," I hiss. "In fact, you will regret it. I'm someone whom you wouldn't want to mess with. It's not too late to decide to marry that supermodel of yours that you rumor to have a wild romantic with"

"What can I say?" He shrugs. "You're hotter than her."

That catches me off guard. Did he just say that I look better than that gorgeous supermodel?

"Oh, she's blushing." James chuckles. "I like it."

My cheeks heat up even more, and I just want to choke this man to death. "My answer is still the same. It's a big no. In your dreams, Mr. Carter."

I'm starting to have a headache, so I turn on my heels.

I need to leave this place in an instant. Just as I'm about to go through the door, his voice echoes again.

"Remember this." He says, "I'm your only ticket out of your misery."

Frustrated, I frown, but I need to leave this place for my sanity. So I walk out, leaving him behind.