CHAPTER 6:THE BOARDROOM AND THE RING
656 Words
I didn’t sleep.
The tea Jake made was still warm in my hands when the sun came up.
250,000 naira. A private nurse.
All because of me.
"Get ready," Jake said from the doorway. He was already in a 3-piece suit.
"We have a board meeting. And then the bank."
"The board?" I asked. "Why do I need to—"
"Because you’re my wife," he said simply. "And the rumors won’t stop
until they see us together."
My stomach dropped.
---
Sterling Group Tower. 40 floors of glass and power.
The moment we stepped out of the car, cameras flashed.
"Mr. Sterling! Is it true you got married?"
"Who is she?"
Jake’s hand found mine. He squeezed it once.
"Smile," he whispered.
Inside, 20 board members were waiting. All men. All old.
And in the middle of them... Mrs. Victoria Sterling.
"Jake," she said, standing. "What is the meaning of this?"
"This," Jake said, pulling me forward, "is Isabella Sterling.
My wife."
The room exploded.
"You married without board approval?"
"The shareholders will panic!"
"Who is this girl?"
Mrs. Sterling’s eyes were daggers. "She’s nobody. A student."
"She’s my wife," Jake’s voice cut through everything. Cold. Final.
"And starting today, she will be working here. As my personal assistant."
My head snapped to him. "What?"
Jake looked at me. "You said you studied accounting, right?
Then prove it."
I swallowed. Nodded. "Okay."
The meeting was hell. Numbers. Shares. Acquisitions.
I understood maybe 30%. But I took notes. I nodded. I didn’t embarrass him.
After, in his office on the top floor, I collapsed into a chair.
"Why did you do that?" I asked. "Make me your assistant?"
Jake poured two glasses of water. Handed me one.
"Two reasons," he said. "One: To shut my mother up.
Two: Because I don’t want you disappearing on me after one month."
The word hung between us.
*One month.*
"About the bank," I said quietly.
Jake was already pulling out his phone. "Already done.
50 million naira was transferred to your account this morning."
I choked. "50 MILLION??"
"For your mother’s treatment. For 1 year. And for you."
He came around the desk. Stopped in front of me.
"Isabella, I don’t do charity. I do investments.
And I’m investing in you."
Tears filled my eyes again. I was so tired of crying.
"I don’t know how to thank you."
"Don’t," he said. "Just... stay."
His hand reached up. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
It was the first time he touched me like that. Gentle.
My breath caught.
The door burst open.
Mrs. Sterling.
"Jake! The press is outside! You need to make a statement!"
She saw us. Saw how close he was to me.
Her face twisted. "This ends now."
Jake didn’t move away.
"No," he said. "It doesn’t."
He turned to me. Took my hand.
The ring on my finger caught the light.
"Come on," he said. "Let’s give them a statement."
---
Downstairs. 30 reporters. Microphones.
Jake stepped in front of me, shielding me.
"Yes, I’m married," he said. "To Isabella Sterling.
We’ve been together 6 months. We’re very happy."
He looked down at me. And for the first time, he smiled.
For real.
"Any questions?"
Someone shouted: "Is it a contract marriage?"
Jake’s grip on my hand tightened.
"My marriage is none of your business," he said. "Next question."
As we got back in the car, I was shaking.
"Jake," I whispered. "What are we doing?"
He looked at me. Tired. But sure.
"I don’t know," he admitted. "But I know I don’t want it to end
in one month."
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a small box.
Not a ring. A key.
"My penthouse has 3 bedrooms," he said. "Pick one.
Make it yours. Because you’re not a guest anymore."
I took the key. My hands were trembling.
*This marriage wasn’t supposed to last.*
*But what if it did?*
- Writer
