MARRIED TO THE WRONG MAN

Camilla's pov “Sign the marriage contract Camilla, or the ten thousand employees you lead are out jobs by Christmas” My father's words hit like a slap.Across the boardroom, Ethan Sterling smirked. He knew I was trapped. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t need to. I could feel his arrogance like heat radiating off him from three seats away, pressing against the quiet tension in the Aetheris boardroom. “Absolutely not.” His voice cut through the room, sharp and entitled. He leaned back in his chair, the top button of his shirt undone, looking like he was at a high-stakes poker game, not a meeting deciding the fate of a multi-billion-dollar empire. “Camilla and I can barely stand being in the same elevator, Dad. You want us to share a last name? That’s ridiculous. Outdated!” I gripped the table so hard my knuckles went white He got to act casual.I got to save Aestheris by marrying him. My father, Julian Vance, didn’t flinch. He sat at the head of the table, hands folded neatly, precise as a surgeon. Beside him, Marcus Sterling, Ethan’s father, the man who thrived on the spotlight—nodded in agreement. “It’s not outdated, Ethan. It’s math,” my father said, his voice cold, like the code he had spent forty years perfecting. “The hedge fund has already taken back twelve percent of the public shares. If they reach fifteen, the board reshuffle triggers. We lose control. We lose our vision. We lose Aetheris.Your team Camilla, all of them unemployed and I doubt you would be able to run that orphanage after Aestheris gets gutted” My Stomach dropped.Ann from accounting, Mike in IT,the single mom on janitorial.All of them gone because I said no. And the Orphanage, that was my other home. I went missing when I was a toddler and I was taken care of by the sisters in that place, until my mom discovered me. Years later, we discovered that it was going to be closed due to lack of funds. Mom decided to buy it before she died.When she passed away, I decided to take charge.The thought of those kids being homeless again made my heart ache .I just couldn't stand it. “Then buy them out,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though my heart was hammering. I kept my eyes on the flickering stock ticker on the wall. “Use the offshore funds. Dilute the shares. There are ten ways to stop a hostile takeover without me signing my life away to a man who thinks ‘strategic planning’ means picking which model to take to the Hamptons.” Ethan scoffed, a short, sharp sound. “There she is. The Ice Queen. Tell me, Camilla, do you ever get tired of being the smartest person in a room that clearly doesn’t want you?” “I’ll stop being the smartest person when you start being competent, Ethan,” I shot back, finally turning to face him. His eyes were stormy blue, full of defiance. He didn’t look at me as a partner or a rival. He looked at me like I was the problem to solve. “Enough,” Marcus Sterling barked, slamming his hand on the table. “The Legacy Clause isn’t a suggestion. Julian and I signed it when the two of you were still toddlers. It exists for this exact moment—to make sure the Sterling and Vance bloodlines stay the backbone of this company. Marry, your voting shares reach fifty-one percent. The takeover stops tonight. The board calms. The empire survives.” “And if we don’t?” Ethan asked, though I could see the slump in his shoulders, the answer already sinking in. “Then I step down,” my father said, looking directly at me. It was the ultimate gamble. “Marcus retires and the board will hire an outsider to restructure. Aetheris is gutted. Its patents will be sold to OmniCorp for pennies. The ten thousand employees you lead, Camilla, are out of jobs by Christmas.” The silence that followed felt suffocating. My father wasn’t appealing to my heart. He knew it was locked. He appealed to my sense of duty - to the thousands of families depending on our servers, to all those orphans relying on me. I looked across the table. Ethan Sterling was a wildfire—wild, destructive, impossible to control. I was the wall keeping the world safe from fire like him. And now, I was being told to let it in. “How long?” I asked, my words tasting like ash. “Five years,” Marcus said quickly, sensing the shift. “Five years. Publicly united. Privately, whatever you want. But it must be legal, official, and seen as absolute.” Ethan let out a jagged breath. He looked at his father, then mine, then at me. For a brief second, his arrogance slipped. Raw resentment peeked through. “Fine,” he spat. “Get the lawyers. But I want a separate floor in the penthouse. I want a lifestyle clause. And I want her out of my business.” “The feeling is mutual,” I said, my voice barely trembling. “I’ll have my legal team review the assets tonight. If I do this, I’m not just a wife. I’m Chairperson of the Board.” My father’s lips thinned. Pride, or satisfaction at a trap well set. “Agreed.” The wedding wasn’t a wedding. It was a press release. Three hours later, in a private courthouse room, we signed the papers. No flowers. No music. No vows that weren’t written by lawyers. I wore a white tailored suit that felt like a straightjacket. Ethan didn’t bother with a tie. We stepped out into a storm of camera flashes. “Smile, Camilla,” Ethan muttered through gritted teeth, his hand gripping my waist like it belonged to him. “We’re supposed to be the most powerful couple in tech. Try not to look like you’re going to your execution.” “In this metaphor, Ethan, you’re the executioner,” I replied, forcing a cold, camera-ready smile. We got into the blacked-out SUV. The silence inside was heavier than in the boardroom. Lights of Manhattan blurred past. I was a trophy now, a piece in a corporate puzzle. When we arrived at the Sterling-Vance penthouse, the driver opened the private elevator. We rode up in silence. Fifty floors of it. The doors opened into a space that felt more like a gallery than a home. Glass walls stretched from floor to ceiling, showing the city below. Cold, modern, vast. Ethan stepped out first, tossing keys onto the marble console. The sound echoed like a gunshot. “Here’s how it works,” he said, his charm gone, replaced by sharp coldness. “This is my floor, my gym, my office… My bedroom. Don’t come up here unless the building is burning.” I straightened my shoulders, hiding how much his words stung. “And the 49th floor?” “Yours,” he said, waving dismissively. “The kitchen and living area are neutral. But don’t expect me there. I have a life, I have friends and my interests. None of which involve playing house with someone who looks at me like a bug under a microscope.” “Your ‘interests’ are going to hit the tabloids by morning,” I reminded him. “If you embarrass this company—or me—I will strip your voting rights faster than you can blink.” He stepped closer, invading my space, smelling of bourbon and night air. His voice was low, dangerous. “You saved the company today, Camilla. Congrats. You have the power you wanted. But don’t think that makes you my boss.” He pulled back, eyes raking over me, full of defiance. “I’m going out. Don’t wait for me.” He didn’t wait. The elevator doors closed, leaving me alone in the vast living room. Glass walls, empty space - it felt more like a cage. I walked to the window, looking at the lights below. I was twenty-five. COO of a global empire. A billionaire. And trapped in a war with a man who hated me, bound by a contract that felt like a death sentence. The penthouse was quiet. I thought about the next five years—the lies, the pretending, the constant friction with Ethan Sterling.