The Tycoon Reluctant Bride

In the morning

Chapter 12

Breakfast was silent.

Again.

Damian sat at the head of the long marble table, scrolling through his phone. His suit was perfect. His hair was perfect. His face was blank.

Like last night never happened.

Like he didn’t tell the entire board I had more integrity than them.

Like he didn’t say "I protect what’s mine."

I poked at my eggs. They were cold.

Rule #1: Keep it professional.

Rule #4: No personal attachment.

Maybe I imagined it all.

"Good morning," I said quietly.

He didn’t look up. "Morning."

That was it.

My chest felt tight. Stupid. It was just a contract. Why did I expect... anything?

Just as I stood to leave, his phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. And again.

Damian frowned and answered. "What?"

I could hear the voice on the other end. His PA, I think. Panicked.

"Sir, the board is calling an emergency meeting. They’re saying you created a hostile work environment yesterday. And... and there’s talk of an investigation into Adeleke Conglomerate. For nepotism."

The cup in Damian’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

"What?" His voice was ice.

"They’re saying you favored Mrs. Adeleke. That you compromised company integrity for... personal reasons."

Personal reasons.

My face burned.

Damian hung up and finally looked at me. For the first time this morning, he really _looked_ at me.

"Get ready," he said.

"For what?"

"A press conference. Tonight. 8pm." He stood up, already buttoning his jacket. "If they want to talk about my wife, then my wife will be right beside me."

I blinked. "Damian, I—"

"No arguments, Amara." He cut me off, but his voice wasn’t harsh. It was tired. "Rule #1: Keep it professional. So let’s be the most professional couple Lagos has ever seen."

He walked out.

And I was left standing there with cold eggs and a heart that didn’t know if it was breaking or flying.

---

*8pm. The Press Conference.*

Flashing lights. Microphones. 50 reporters shouting my name.

Damian’s hand found mine before we stepped on stage.

"Smile," he whispered. Just like in the boardroom. "You're my wife."

I did.

And when a reporter shouted, "Mr. Adeleke, is this marriage just to cover your company’s debts?"

Damian didn’t let go of my hand.

He pulled me closer and said into the mic:

"No. This marriage is the best decision I’ve ever made."

Gasps. Camera flashes.

And me?

I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Rule #7: No falling in love.

Too late.