The Billionaire's contract girlfriend

THE CONTRACT

Okoro Towers smelled like money.

Cold air, expensive perfume, polished marble, and something else I couldn't quite name.

Power.

I stood outside the enormous glass entrance and looked up.

The building seemed to disappear into the sky.

I tightened my grip on my handbag.

My only good wrapper had been ironed twice that morning, and I prayed it didn't look as old as it was.

Grace was with Mama Joy next door.

I had told her I was going for an important job interview.

I didn't tell her that the man interviewing me was also the reason we might lose our home.

I took a deep breath and walked inside.

The receptionist barely looked at me.

"Name?"

"Ada Okafor. Mr. Okoro asked me to come."

She finally raised her eyes.

For a second, she looked me over.

Then she looked back at her computer.

"Floor thirty."

"Thank you."

"And don't waste his time."

I nodded.

The elevator doors opened.

I stepped inside.

The doors closed.

Silence.

I could hear my own heartbeat.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

The numbers climbed slowly.

I kept remembering Chike's words from yesterday.

Twenty-four hours.

My daughter and I could be homeless tonight if I didn't find a solution.

When the elevator finally reached the thirtieth floor, the doors opened.

I stepped out.

My mouth fell open.

The office was enormous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows covered one entire wall, giving a breathtaking view of Lagos.

The city looked tiny from up there.

Cars looked like insects.

Buildings looked like toys.

Everything about the place screamed wealth.

I suddenly became painfully aware of my wrapper.

I walked toward the large office at the end of the hallway.

The door was slightly open.

I knocked.

"Come in."

I pushed the door open.

And there he was.

Chike Okoro.

The man everyone in Lagos seemed to know.

He sat behind an enormous black desk, reading through some documents.

Black suit.

White shirt.

No smile.

He didn't even look up when I entered.

I stood there awkwardly.

"Good morning, sir."

Nothing.

I waited.

He turned a page.

Then another.

Finally, he spoke.

"Close the door."

I closed it.

"Sit."

I sat.

He continued reading.

Minutes passed.

I shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

Then he finally looked up.

His eyes met mine.

Cold.

Dark.

Unreadable.

"You're late."

I blinked.

"Sir?"

"You're late."

"I came twenty-five minutes early."

He stared at me.

"Don't correct me."

My mouth closed immediately.

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back.

"Hundred and ninety thousand naira."

My heart sank.

"That's what you owe."

"Yes, sir."

"Four months."

"Yes, sir."

"Plus penalties."

I swallowed.

"I know."

He picked up a file.

"According to the records, you've been given several warnings."

"Yes, sir."

"And you've failed to pay."

"I've been trying."

He looked at me.

"Trying isn't payment."

I lowered my eyes.

He was right.

But hearing it from him still hurt.

"My daughter and I don't have anywhere else to go," I said quietly.

He said nothing.

I continued.

"Please, sir. I just need a little more time."

He closed the file.

"I was going to offer you a cleaner's position."

I looked up immediately.

"A job?"

"Thirty thousand naira a month."

My heart lifted.

Thirty thousand wasn't much, but it was honest money.

It could buy food.

It could help with Grace's school fees.

It could keep us going.

"Thank you, sir."

"But it doesn't matter anymore."

My smile disappeared.

He stood and walked toward the window.

"You still have twenty-four hours to leave the property."

I stared at his back.

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

"But you just offered me a job."

"I changed my mind."

My chest tightened.

"Please, sir. I need that job."

He turned around.

"Everyone needs money, Miss Okafor."

I didn't know what to say.

I stood slowly.

"Thank you for your time."

I turned toward the door.

My hand had just touched the handle when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

The name on it made his expression change.

"Grandma."

He answered.

"Yes, Grandma."

I stopped.

I didn't know why.

Maybe because his voice sounded different.

Less cold.

"Saturday?"

He listened.

"Your birthday?"

He sighed.

"I know."

Another pause.

"No, I don't have anyone."

I stared at the floor, pretending not to listen.

"Yes, I'm coming alone."

His jaw tightened.

"Grandma, I'm busy."

Silence.

"I can't just bring someone."

Another pause.

His eyes closed.

"Fine."

He rubbed his forehead.

"I'll bring someone."

He ended the call.

The office became quiet again.

He placed the phone on the desk.

Then he looked at me.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

His eyes moved from my face to my clothes.

Then back to my face.

"What's your name again?"

I frowned slightly.

"Ada Okafor."

He nodded.

"How old is your daughter?"

"Five."

He looked thoughtful.

Then he opened a drawer.

"I have a proposition for you."

I slowly walked back to the desk.

"A proposition?"

He pulled out a folder.

"My grandmother is turning eighty on Saturday."

I nodded.

"She has one obsession."

"What obsession?"

"Getting me married."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

But his expression was too serious.

"She has decided that if I don't settle down, she'll change her will."

My eyes widened.

"Her will?"

"Her inheritance."

I understood.

He wasn't worried about romance.

He was worried about money.

"My grandmother believes I'm incapable of having a normal relationship."

He paused.

"She's probably right."

I wasn't sure whether he was joking.

His face remained completely serious.

"She wants me to bring a woman to her birthday dinner."

I stared at him.

"And you want me to...?"

"Pretend to be my girlfriend."

My mouth fell open.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I did, but..."

I laughed nervously.

"Sir, I think you've made a mistake."

"I haven't."

He pushed the folder across the desk.

I looked down.

Three words were printed across the top.

CONTRACT: FAKE RELATIONSHIP.

My heart started pounding.

I looked back at him.

"You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

"For thirty days."

"Why me?"

"Because you're already involved."

"Involved in what?"

"My grandmother's birthday."

I stared at him.

He continued.

"She likes children. She especially likes single mothers."

I suddenly understood.

"You saw me with Grace yesterday."

"Yes."

"And you think she'll believe I'm your girlfriend because I have a child?"

"I think she'll believe whatever I tell her."

His confidence was unbelievable.

He tapped the contract.

"You're a better option than an actress."

"Why?"

"Actresses cost more."

I blinked.

"And they ask too many questions."

He looked directly into my eyes.

"You won't."

I felt offended.

But I needed money.

He turned the contract toward me.

"Thirty days."

I looked at the payment.

My breath caught.

"Nine hundred thousand naira."

"Yes."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.

Nine hundred thousand.

That was more than I had seen at one time in my entire life.

I could pay our rent.

Grace's school fees.

Buy food.

Maybe even save enough to move somewhere safer.

"You'll receive four hundred and fifty thousand upfront."

I looked up.

"The rest?"

"After the thirty days."

"What exactly do I have to do?"

"Attend family dinners when required."

He turned a page.

"Attend my grandmother's birthday on Saturday."

Another page.

"Act like we're together."

I stared at the paper.

"And Grace?"

"She comes with you."

My eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"My grandmother expects you to have a child."

"She expects me to have a child?"

"She believes a woman with a child is more likely to be serious about settling down."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

He continued.

"You'll dress appropriately. You'll behave respectfully. You won't embarrass me."

I frowned.

"I'm not the one who brought you into this."

His eyes sharpened.

I immediately remembered his rule.

Don't correct me.

"Sorry, sir."

He leaned back.

"And there is one more condition."

I waited.

"You will not fall in love with me."

I almost laughed.

"Trust me. That won't happen."

For the first time, something close to amusement appeared in his eyes.

"Good."

He slid the contract closer.

"Then we understand each other."

I looked down at the pages.

There were rules.

No unnecessary questions.

No revealing the agreement.

No bringing outsiders into the arrangement.

No demanding more money.

No developing feelings.

No interfering in his personal life.

And absolutely no changing the terms without his permission.

It felt less like a relationship and more like a business deal.

"What if I say no?"

He didn't hesitate.

"Then the eviction continues."

My heart sank.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

He knew I was desperate.

I thought about Grace.

Her school uniform.

Her little shoes.

Her empty stomach.

Her sleeping beside me on our thin mattress.

I thought about the ₦5,000 in my purse.

Nine hundred thousand could change everything.

"Do I have to sign now?"

"Yes."

I looked at the clock.

He pointed at it.

"Sixty seconds."

"Sixty seconds?"

"Fifty-five."

My heart raced.

This wasn't a choice.

It was a decision between poverty and survival.

Forty-five seconds.

I picked up the pen.

Thirty seconds.

I looked at the contract one last time.

Twenty seconds.

Then I signed.

Ada Okafor.

My signature looked strangely small beneath the enormous contract.

Chike took the papers.

"Good."

He immediately picked up his phone.

"James."

A man's voice answered.

"Transfer four hundred and fifty thousand to Miss Okafor's account."

My eyes widened.

"Now?"

Chike looked at me.

"Did you expect me to give you cash?"

"No, sir."

He ended the call.

My phone vibrated.

I pulled it out.

BANK ALERT:

Credit Alert: ₦450,000.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

Four hundred and fifty thousand naira.

I stared at the screen.

Money I desperately needed.

Money that could save us from the street.

Money I had just earned by agreeing to pretend to love a man I barely knew.

Chike stood.

"Shopping tomorrow."

I looked up.

"Shopping?"

"My grandmother's birthday is Saturday."

He glanced at my clothes.

"You're not wearing that."

My cheeks burned.

"Yes, sir."

He picked up another file.

"And be here tomorrow at ten."

I stood.

"Yes, sir."

I reached the door.

"Ada."

I turned.

His expression was serious.

"Remember what this is."

I nodded.

"A contract."

"Exactly."

He looked away.

"No emotions. No complications."

I left the office.

The elevator doors closed.

I leaned against the wall and stared at my bank balance.

For the first time in months, I could breathe.

But beneath the relief was fear.

I had just signed a thirty-day contract with the most intimidating man I'd ever met.

I was going to pretend to be his girlfriend.

I was going to meet his grandmother.

And somehow, I was going to convince an entire family that Chike Okoro was in love with me.

The elevator reached the ground floor.

The doors opened.

I stepped out.

My phone buzzed again.

A message from an unknown number.

"Be at Okoro Towers tomorrow by 10 AM. Don't be late."

I stared at the message.

Then I smiled bitterly.

Thirty days.

Nine hundred thousand naira.

One ruthless billionaire.

One desperate single mother.

What could possibly go wrong?

I had no idea that the biggest problem wouldn't be pretending to love Chike Okoro.

It would be trying not to fall for the man behind the contract.