Devil's Contract Bride. When her father’s 200 million naira debt falls due, she’s forced into a contr

The smell of cheap perfume and desperation clung to the walls of the debt collector’s office. Amina Kalu stood straight, chin lifted, even as her hands shook beneath her sleeves. Her father’s IOU lay on the mahogany desk - 200 million naira, due today. “You have two options, Miss Kalu,” the man said without looking up. “Prison. Or marriage.” She laughed. A brittle, broken sound. “You think I’d sell myself to clear his debt?” The door opened behind her. Cold air. The scent of cedarwood and violence. Everyone in the room stood. Even the debt collector. “Mr. Kalu,” he stuttered. Damian Kalu didn’t walk. He owned the room. Tall, black suit, eyes the color of a storm before it breaks. He was 28 and already ruled Lagos’ underworld. They called him the devil. Not because he was cruel. Because he never lost. His gaze landed on Amina. Slow. Assessing. Like she was property being appraised. “Marriage,” he said. One word. Final. Amina’s breath caught. “To you?” “To me,” he confirmed. “Sign the contract. I clear your father’s debt. You become my wife for 1 year. You stay loyal. You stay alive. That’s all.” She wanted to spit in his face. Her father had gambled away their empire, their name, her future. And now this stranger wanted to buy her like a car? But the alternative was prison. Or worse. Amina met his eyes. That dangerous, beautiful face. The scar cutting through his left brow. He looked like the villain in every story she’d read as a child. “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll sign.” Damian smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Smart girl. But know this, Amina Kalu. You may smile like an angel. But in my house, you will learn to ruin like a devil.” He slid the contract across the desk. A pen. Black ink. Her hand shook as she signed. Amina Kalu. The devil’s contract bride. As the ink dried, she made herself a promise. He wanted obedience. He would get war.