The Billionaire’s Forbidden Bride

The first time I saw Rayyan Malik, I was holding a cup of tea I could barely taste. It was a strange thing to remember, considering everything that happened that evening. Not the expensive chandelier hanging above us. Not the hushed conversations around the room. Not even the way my father had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. I remembered the tea. Bitter. Cold. And untouched for so long that a thin film had already formed on its surface. I sat quietly beside my father in the private lounge of the Grand Meridian Hotel, trying to understand why we were there. My father had only told me that morning that we had an important meeting. “Just dress simply, Aaliyah,” he’d said. That was all. No explanation. No name. Nothing. And now I was sitting in a room filled with people wearing tailored suits and expensive watches, feeling as though I’d accidentally walked into somebody else’s life. I glanced at my father. His fingers were clasped tightly together. Too tightly. My father was not a nervous man. I’d seen him negotiate business deals with people twice his age. I’d watched him remain calm when competitors tried to intimidate him. But tonight, he couldn’t stop checking the door. “Dad” I whispered. He turned. “Yes?” “What’s going on?” For a moment, he simply looked at me. Then he forced a smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.” I frowned. “Then why do you look worried?” His smile disappeared. Before he could answer, the door opened. The entire room went silent. A man walked in. He wasn’t the tallest person I’d ever seen, but somehow he made everyone else seem smaller. Black suit. White shirt. No tie. His dark hair was neatly styled, but there was nothing soft about his appearance. His face was sharp, almost unreadable, and his eyes— His eyes were the kind that made you forget what you were about to say. Cold. Calculating. Dangerously calm. Two men followed behind him, but he didn’t need an introduction. Everyone knew who he was. Rayyan Malik. The billionaire whose name appeared in business magazines almost every month. Malik Holdings. Real estate. Technology. Construction. Investment. His empire seemed to stretch into everything. I’d seen his photograph before, of course. But photographs didn’t capture the way he carried himself. He didn’t enter the room like a man asking for permission. He entered like the room already belonged to him. His gaze moved across the people gathered there. Then it stopped. On my father. Something changed in his expression. It was subtle. So subtle that perhaps nobody else noticed. But I did. His jaw tightened. His eyes hardened. And for one brief second, I saw something behind the billionaire’s perfectly controlled face. Hatred. Pure, unmistakable hatred. My stomach tightened. Rayyan walked toward us. My father stood. “Mr. Malik.” Rayyan didn’t shake his hand. He simply stared at him. “Mr. Hassan.” His voice was deep and calm. Too calm. My father slowly lowered his hand. Rayyan’s eyes shifted to me. I suddenly became very aware of the simple cream dress I’d chosen that morning. He looked at me for a few seconds. Not admiringly. Not curiously. It was as if he were trying to figure out something. Then he looked back at my father. “You brought your daughter.” My father’s expression changed. “Yes.” Rayyan pulled out the chair opposite us and sat. “Good.” I frowned. Good? Why did he sound as though my presence had been expected? My father sat beside me. The silence became unbearable. Finally, I spoke. “Mr. Malik, forgive me, but I don’t understand why I’m here.” Rayyan looked at me. “You will.” There was something about those two words that made the room feel colder. I glanced at my father. He avoided my eyes. That was when I knew. Something was terribly wrong. A man sitting across from us placed a thick folder on the table. Rayyan opened it. “The Hassan Group has outstanding debts of two hundred and forty million naira.” My heart stopped. I stared at my father. “What?” He closed his eyes briefly. “Dad?” “Aaliyah—” “You told me the company was recovering.” “It was.” “Was?” Rayyan leaned back. “The banks disagree.” My face burned. I looked at him. “And what does that have to do with you?” “Everything.” He pushed the folder toward me. I didn’t touch it. “What is this?” “Your father’s company is three weeks away from being declared insolvent.” My throat tightened. Three weeks? No. That couldn’t be true. My father had spent thirty years building that company. He had sacrificed everything for it. Our home. His time. His health. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. He looked at me, guilt written across his face. “I was trying to protect you.” “By lying to me?” “Aaliyah—” I stood abruptly. The room spun slightly. “I need some air.” I turned toward the door. “Sit down.” Rayyan’s voice stopped me. I turned slowly. “Excuse me?” His expression remained emotionless. “If you walk out now, nothing changes.” I stared at him. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can do.” “No.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But you need me to tell you what happens next.” Something about his confidence irritated me. “Why should I listen to you?” He leaned forward. “Because I am the only person in this room capable of saving your father’s company.” Silence. My father looked down. And suddenly I understood. This wasn’t a business meeting. It was a negotiation. And somehow, I was part of the deal. I slowly sat back down. Rayyan opened another file. “The Hassan Group can survive.” My father looked up. “But?” Rayyan’s gaze moved to him. “But I want something in return.” “What?” Rayyan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at me. My heart began beating faster. No. Whatever he was about to say, I didn’t want to hear it. “Your daughter.” The words landed like a slap. I stared at him. “What?” My father’s face went pale. Rayyan remained completely calm. “I want Aaliyah.” My chair scraped against the floor as I stood. “Have you lost your mind?” Rayyan didn’t blink. “I want you to marry me.” For several seconds, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. I actually laughed. It wasn’t because anything was funny. It was the kind of laugh that escaped when your mind couldn’t process what it had just heard. “You want me to what?” “Marry me.” “Why?” His eyes remained fixed on mine. “Because it’s the price of your father’s freedom.” I looked at my father. He couldn’t even look at me. My chest tightened. “You knew about this?” “Aaliyah…” “You knew?” “I didn’t agree to it.” Rayyan’s expression hardened. “You didn’t have a choice.” My father finally looked at him. “Leave my daughter out of this.” Rayyan’s eyes turned icy. “You should have thought about that before you destroyed my family.” I froze. My father went completely still. “What are you talking about?” Rayyan stood. The room suddenly felt too small. “Ask your father.” He turned to leave. I followed him with my eyes. But just before he reached the door, he stopped. Without turning around, he said, “You have forty-eight hours.” Then he walked out. The door closed behind him. I stared at it. Forty-eight hours. My father remained silent. “Dad.” Nothing. “Dad!” He flinched. “What did he mean?” He rubbed both hands over his face. “Aaliyah, there are things about my past you don’t know.” “What things?” He looked at me. And for the first time in my entire life, I saw fear in my father’s eyes. “Rayyan’s father died fifteen years ago.” I swallowed. “What does that have to do with you?” My father didn’t answer. “Dad.” His lips trembled. “I was there.” The room seemed to disappear around me. “What?” “I was there the night his father died.” I stared at him. “Did you kill him?” His eyes widened. “No!” The answer came too quickly. Too desperately. “I swear to you, Aaliyah, I did not kill him.” “Then why does Rayyan hate you?” My father looked toward the closed door. “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “You do know something.” He remained silent. And that silence frightened me more than any answer could have. I picked up my handbag. “I’m going home.” “Aaliyah—” “I need to think.” He stood. “Please.” I looked at him. The man in front of me wasn’t the strong father I had always known. He looked tired. Broken. Almost defeated. But I couldn’t forget Rayyan’s words. I want Aaliyah. I walked toward the door. Then my phone vibrated. Unknown number. I hesitated before opening the message. You have forty-eight hours to decide. A second message appeared. Choose carefully, Aaliyah Hassan. Then another. My blood ran cold. Because once you become my wife, there will be no going back. I stared at the screen. I didn’t know why, but something inside me whispered that marrying Rayyan Malik wouldn’t save my life. It would change it forever. And perhaps— destroy it.