The 10 Million Naira Wife

Chapter 5: The Sharks Terms

"Who the hell did I marry?"

Khalil's voice was a whisper. Whispers from him were more dangerous than screams.

My brain short-circuited. Deny? Run? Cry? Anon didn't cry. Zara was terrified. I was both.

"I can explain—"

"Can you?" He braced his arms on either side of me, caging me against the sink. The janitor's closet suddenly felt like a coffin. "Because from where I'm standing, my ten-million-naira wife just secured a fifty-billion-naira government contract. In my closet."

His eyes were scanning my face like I was a hostile takeover.

"You're Anon," he said. Not a question. "The CEO who told my acquisition team to 'stop wasting her time' last month."

I flinched. I had said that. In an email.

"You lied," he continued, voice dropping lower. "On the contract. To my face. In my house."

"I didn't lie," I said, finding my voice. "You never asked what I did. You assumed I was nobody because I was desperate. That's on you."

His eyebrow twitched. The Shark was surprised.

"My background check said orphan. Broke. Former secretary."

"Your background check was wrong," I snapped. "I'm an orphan. I was broke. I was a secretary. At 19. Then I built NairaFlow in my bedroom. So yes, I'm an orphan. I'm also worth ₦80 billion. Deal with it."

Silence.

Then he laughed.

It was a terrible sound. No humor. All edges. "Eighty billion," he repeated. "And you married me for ten million."

"Mama's surgery," I said quietly. "Cancer. I needed cash fast. Your contract was fast."

Something flickered in his eyes. Something almost... human.

Then it was gone.

"So what now, Mrs. Adeyemi?" He used my title like a curse. "You think I'll just let you walk out with my name and your secrets? Let you play me for a fool?"

"I didn't play you. You bought a wife. You got one. The contract doesn't say I can't have a job."

"It says 'full transparency'." He pulled out his phone, thumbed to a document. "Clause 9C. 'Neither party shall withhold information that materially affects the marriage or the Adeyemi name.'"

Dammit. I hadn't read the fine print.

"Being Anon materially affects the Adeyemi name," he said. "My biggest tech rival is my wife. My board will crucify me. My cousin will use this to challenge the will."

He was right. And we both knew it.

So I did the only thing Anon would do.

I negotiated.

"New deal," I said, straightening. "One year stays. You get your inheritance. I get my ten million. But..." I met his eyes. "NairaFlow stays mine. You don't touch it. You don't acquire it. You don't tell anyone I'm Anon. In return, I won't tank Adeyemi Group stock by announcing our marriage is a sham after you get the company."

Mutually assured destruction.

His eyes went wide. Then he smiled. Real this time. Cruel and impressed.

"You've got teeth, wifey," he murmured. "I like that."

He stepped closer. Too close. I could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. "But you forgot one thing."

"What?"

His hand finally touched me. One finger, under my chin, tilting my face up. "I never make a deal without collateral."

His thumb brushed my lower lip. My breath hitched.

"For the next year," he said, voice rough, "you're mine. In every way. Board room and bedroom. You want to keep your secret? You sleep in my bed. You wear my ring. You play my wife."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I call an emergency board meeting tomorrow," he said softly. "And tell them Anon committed fraud by marrying the CEO of her biggest competitor under false pretenses. NairaFlow dies. Your fifty-billion contract dies. Your reputation dies."

He had me. Checkmate.

"One year," I whispered.

"One year," he agreed. His mouth was inches from mine. "Seal it with a kiss, Mrs. Adeyemi. Like a good wife."

The gala raged outside. Dami was hunting me. My board was in chaos.

And I was about to kiss the Shark who owned me.

Again.