THE CEO SERECT WIFE

The elevator doors opened to the 50th floor, and my knees almost gave out. Jake Sterling’s office didn’t look like an office. It looked like a threat. All glass, all black, all power. The Lagos skyline stretched behind him like he owned it. Which he probably did. And there he was. CEO Jake Sterling. He didn’t look up from his laptop when I walked in. His suit was charcoal, tailored to perfection. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. The entire room smelled like money and cologne I could never afford. "Miss Carter," he finally said. His voice was low. No warmth. "I hope you’re ready to sign." My hands shook as I clutched my bag. Inside was my mom’s hospital bill. 5 million naira. Due tomorrow. For this. I sat down across from him. The chair was leather. Cold. Just like him. He slid a thick folder across the marble desk. A marriage contract. My name was already printed next to his. "One year," Jake said, leaning back. "That’s how long this lasts." I nodded, too scared to speak. "Three rules," he continued, ticking them off on his fingers. "One. No one can know. Not your friends. Not your mother. Not the press." "Two. No love. This is business, Miss Carter. Don’t get confused." "Three. You do what I say, when I say it. Family dinners, events, photos. You’re my wife." I flinched. "And in return?" He finally looked up. His eyes were dark. Unreadable. "The hospital gets paid. Today." He snapped his fingers and his assistant walked in with a bank draft. 5,000,000.00 naira. Made out to St. Mary’s Hospital. Relief hit me so hard I had to bite my lip to stop from crying. Mom would live. "Sign it," Jake ordered. I picked up the pen. My hand was shaking. "Can I... can I at least see my mom first?" I whispered. Jake’s expression didn’t change. "After you sign." The arrogance in that sentence made my stomach twist. Who talks to someone like that? Something in me snapped. "Don’t talk to me like I’m nothing," I said, and immediately regretted it. His eyes narrowed. For a second, I thought he’d tear up the contract. But then his mouth twitched. Almost a smirk. "Interesting," he murmured. "You have a spine." He stood up and walked to the window. His back to me. "Sign it, Isabella. Or walk out that door and watch your mother die." The words were cruel. Calculated. My tears fell anyway. But this time I signed. Isabella Carter. The moment the ink dried, he took the contract and handed the draft to his assistant. "Transfer it now," he said. My phone buzzed 10 seconds later. Hospital: Payment Received. I sagged in the chair. "Driver will take you home," Jake said without looking at me. "We start tomorrow. 7AM. Be at my penthouse. Don’t be late." I stood up, legs weak. At the door, I paused. "Thank you," I whispered. Jake didn’t turn around. "Don’t thank me," he said coldly. "And Isabella... don’t fall for me. That wasn’t in the contract." The door closed behind me. And I had a feeling I’d just made a deal with the devil.