OOPS I MARRIED A BILLIONAIRE

Chapter Five: My Wife.

Ethan Blackwood.

I sat at the head of the long mahogany table, my posture rigid, fingers steepled beneath my chin as I observed my parents with cool detachment.

Father sat directly across from me, exuding the same commanding presence he had wielded over our family and empire for decades. Mother stood beside him like a shadow — silent, obedient, and ever-present. She had perfected that role since I was a child. Always supporting, never questioning.

I had grown tired of this endless game.

For months now, my father had withheld his support while the company faced its most severe crisis in years. Billions were at stake, and yet he refused to intervene unless I fulfilled his archaic demand: find a wife. Produce an heir. Secure the Blackwood legacy.

It was ridiculous. Primitive. But necessary.

“You said you found a bride,” Father remarked, a rare smile touching his lips. The moment he learned I had married, his entire demeanor had shifted from cold disapproval to calculated approval. He wanted a proper wedding, a spectacle for society.

“Yes, Father,” I replied, my voice even and emotionless. “I married her over the summer. I wanted it to be legally binding before bringing her home.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. The papers were signed. The marriage was real on paper. That was all that mattered.

The girl — Amara John — was unexpectedly perfect for this arrangement. Clumsy, chaotic, and refreshingly unfiltered. She would serve her purpose for a few months, perhaps a year at most, and then we would dissolve the union quietly. No complications. No messy emotions.

She was… interesting, though. In a strange, unpredictable way.

“Good,” Father nodded, clearly pleased. “Let’s meet her today so we can discuss the necessary arrangements.”

Mother’s voice came soft and hesitant, almost a whisper, as it had been my entire life. “We’re so glad you’ve finally taken this step, Ethan.”

“You’ve made me proud, son.” Father rose from his seat, adjusting his cufflinks. “Now, your company is in good hands.”

A quiet wave of relief moved through me, though I didn’t let it show. This was what I had waited for all summer — the leverage I needed. My father’s empire and connections could stabilize everything. But earning his approval had always come at a price.

I had simply paid it.

Mother offered me a small, fragile smile before following Father out of the room like the obedient wife she had always been.

The heavy door clicked shut behind them, leaving the dining room in silence.

I remained seated for a moment longer, staring at the empty chairs across from me. My expression remained cold, unchanging.

Time to collect my wife.

I rose smoothly, buttoning my suit jacket as I walked toward the door. Amara had no idea what she had stepped into the moment she signed those documents. She was now part of my world — whether she was ready or not.

And I had no intention of making this easy for her.

Justin’s house was modest but well-kept — the kind of stylish bungalow that screamed “comfortable” rather than impressive. He had texted me earlier that my bride was here and that they were getting her ready.

I didn’t care about the details.

All I needed was for her to look presentable enough to stand beside me in front of my father. Once that was done, his support would be secured. Everything else was irrelevant.

My driver pulled up smoothly outside the residence. I stepped out of the Rolls Royce, adjusting my cufflinks as one of my guards knocked firmly on the front door. I checked my watch. I had ten minutes at most. Any longer and we would be late.

The door opened slowly.

There she stood — Amara John. My wife.

She wore a long, sapphire-blue satin gown that clung to her figure in a surprisingly elegant way. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and her makeup was soft and minimal. She looked… decent. Almost polished.

But the nervousness radiating from her was unmistakable. The alcohol that had made her bold and chaotic last night had clearly worn off. Now she was wide awake, painfully aware of the mess she had gotten herself into.

“Hello, Wife,” I said, the corner of my lips curving into a faint, cold smile.

She flinched visibly, her gaze dropping to her blue heels. “He… Hey… Husband,” she stammered.

Unbelievable.

I smirked. The word sounded foreign and awkward coming from her lips. “I don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

Before she could respond, Justin stepped forward, looking unusually tense. “Mr. Blackwood… can I see you for a minute?”

I frowned slightly. “Make it quick.”

We stepped to the side of the house, into a small garden area filled with carefully tended flowers and vegetable beds. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, but I felt no warmth.

Justin shifted uncomfortably under my stare. I gave him a cold, impatient look that finally forced him to speak.

“Amara… has a little problem,” he began hesitantly.

“What problem?” My tone was flat.

“She’s very messy. Clumsy. Extremely impulsive,” he said carefully. “I strongly recommend you avoid taking her to important gatherings or public events for now.”

I folded my arms across my chest, tilting my head. “Explain.”

Justin rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uneasy. “Her last job… she was fired because, in the middle of a critical business meeting, she got distracted by a duck swimming outside the building. She left the room, picked it up, and placed it on the CEO’s lap so he could ‘feel its calming energy.’ The duck ended up ruining his expensive suit.”

I stared at him for a beat.

Then I laughed — a short, low, humorless sound.

“That’s just stupid,” I said coldly.

“Exactly, boss. She’s… like that,” Justin added, his voice laced with second-hand embarrassment. “She says whatever comes to her mind. She gets distracted easily. She’s not exactly… refined.”

I glanced back toward the house where Amara stood waiting, looking small and innocent in that blue dress. From this distance, she appeared delicate. Fragile, even.

Yet she had boldly walked into my VIP section, told me I wasn’t her type, and signed marriage papers like she was autographing a fan’s book.

Interesting.

“I can deal with that,” I said dismissively, turning away from Justin. “She’s a means to an end. Nothing more.”

Justin opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but wisely closed it when he saw the look on my face.

I straightened my jacket and walked back toward my wife. She looked up at me with those wide, anxious eyes.

“Time to go,” I ordered, my voice leaving no room for discussion. “Try not to embarrass me in front of my parents.”

I didn’t wait for her reply. I simply turned and headed toward the car, expecting her to follow.

She was now Mrs. Ethan Blackwood.

Whether she could handle this world or not was no longer my concern