His For Hire

The office of Ace Empire was sleek, cold, and polished—every inch designed to remind you that wealth wasn’t just a number, but a way of life. High ceilings, marble floors, and glass walls that overlooked the city like a throne room. But Sheila wasn’t looking at the view. She was carrying Dale’s forgotten lunch, the warm smell of pasta mixing with the scent of her nervousness. It was just another errand in the long list of things she did to survive the mess of a life her husband had carved out for her but she wasn't complaining. It was her duty. No matter how her husband behaved, she was a woman and was in no place to say a word against him or his orders. She stepped out of the elevator, dressed as presentably as her shabby wardrobe could carry. The corridor was lined with pristine glass doors, and beyond them, the world of business. Success. Power. Everything she would never have. She sighed, holding the lunch tighter, her fingers aching from the strain. She hadn’t meant to be here today. But when Dale had called, demanding that she deliver his lunch, she couldn’t say no. He’d made her world small, and somehow, she had gotten used to it. As she walked, her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp jolt. A hard collision. The lunch box slipped from her hands, the contents splattering across the floor in a wet mess. “Watch where you’re going, lady,” the voice snapped, cold, dismissive. She blinked, stunned for a moment as the man didn’t even look back. His tall, imposing figure continued to stride forward like nothing had happened, his black suit almost blending into the shadows of the hallway. His arrogance practically bled from him, radiating from the very air he moved through. She stood there for a second, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. She was humiliated. But then something shifted in her. The feeling wasn’t just humiliation. It was rage. “Hey!” she shouted, her voice trembling but loud enough to echo down the hallway. “You can’t just walk away like that!” The man paused. His back was still turned, but she could feel the tension in the air. He didn’t stop long enough to apologize, though. Instead, he turned slowly, as if the annoyance was more of an inconvenience than anything else. His eyes narrowed when they met hers, ice blue and dismissive, taking in her cheap, modest dress and frayed shoes. He said nothing for a long moment.“Are you really going to make a scene over lunch?” His voice was low, almost mocking. Sheila was speechless for a second. Who was this man?His eyes studied her, calculating. “And what are you even doing here? This isn’t the kind of place for someone like you.” His words stung—harder than they should have. She had lived her entire life being treated like she didn’t matter. But this? This was something else entirely. She wasn’t going to stand for it. Not this time. He was just a man, not her husband. “I’m here because my husband, Dale, works here,” she said, each word coming out with a slow burn. “And I’m not going to let you walk away like you didn't just ruin my lunch and my day.” There was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe? But the mask came back quickly, as if he’d never been anything but the arrogant man who could break people with a word. “You are the wife,” he said, his tone colder now. “Dale Lane’s wife. A real picture of elegance.” His eyes raked over her again, judging every inch of her with a lazy, condescending glance. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” She stared at him, her chest tight with frustration. “I’m not asking for your charity.”His lips curved into a cruel smirk. “I don’t offer charity. But, maybe, I can offer you something else.”He didn’t wait for her response, his eyes scanning her once more. He was already moving, too fast for her to react, but his voice lingered like a whip crack. “Pretend to be my wife for six months. I’ll pay you more than you could ever imagine. Your life will be changed. Think about it.”He had scanned her - she fitted the idea of a perfect wife his grandfather, Greg, had. Her heart raced as he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the hall. The spilled lunch became a small thing compared to the bomb he’d just dropped. She wanted to shout. To scream at him. But she didn’t. Instead, she stood there, feeling small, invisible—and a little bit broken. She could hear him still, walking away like nothing had happened. And maybe that was what made it worse. She wasn’t even worth a second glance. But Sheila wasn’t just going to let this slide. She wasn’t going to let a man like that who was not even her husband think he could crush her spirit with a single glance.