Lost in love

The church doors were open. The music was playing. But the groom was gone. Amara stood at the entrance of St. Michael's Cathedral in her white lace gown, her bouquet of white roses shaking so hard petals were falling on the marble floor. Two hundred guests. Two hundred eyes. All staring at her. Her mother rushed to her side, makeup ruined from tears. "Amara, where is Daniel? The priest is waiting." "I... I don't know," she whispered. Her perfect lipstick was gone from biting her lips until they bled. Then her phone buzzed. In her white lace gloves. A message from her own blood sister, Vanessa. No text. Just a picture. Daniel. In the same suit he was supposed to wear for her. Kissing Vanessa at Murtala Airport. His hand on her waist. Her sister's suitcase beside them. Caption: Sorry, sis. We love each other. We're leaving for London tonight. Please don't wait for us. The bouquet fell. Thud. White roses scattered in the dust. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. That's what they expected. She just bent down, pulled off her white heels one by one, and walked out of the church barefoot. Her expensive wedding dress dragging through the red Lagos dust while everyone gasped and brought out their phones to record. Three hours later, she was still in that dusty wedding dress, sitting on a cold floor in the hospital corridor. Her mother was inside, oxygen mask on her face, chest rising too slow. The doctor came out holding a pink bill. He didn't even look at her dress. "Ms. Amara, your mother's heart surgery will cost $50,000. You have 48 hours to pay, or we cannot proceed. I'm sorry." $50,000. She checked her account balance. $320. The same money she saved for her honeymoon with Daniel. Her phone rang again. Unknown number. "Is this Amara Johnson?" A cold, deep male voice. The kind of voice that never asks twice. "Yes..." "My name is Ethan Black. I was at your wedding today. I have a proposal for you. A business proposal that will give you $50,000 tonight. Cash." She frowned, tears still on her chin. "Who are you? Do I know you?" "You don't need to know me. You need the money. Come to Black Tower, 9pm. Floor 40. Don't be late. And don't change that dress." He hung up. Amara looked through the glass at her mother. At the machine beeping slowly. She wiped her tears and stood up, dust still on her feet. What did she have to lose? Her fiancé was gone. Her sister betrayed her. Her pride was left on the church floor. At 9pm sharp, she entered Black Tower. The tallest building in Lagos. Everyone stared at the girl in the dirty wedding dress entering a billionaire's building. The elevator opened to floor 40. One man standing by the window, looking over all of Lagos. Tall, broad shoulders, black suit that cost more than her mother's surgery, face like a god carved from ice. Cold eyes. No smile. The kind of man who never loses. Ethan Black. The billionaire everyone feared. The one whose grandfather died and left $500 million on condition he marries. He turned and looked at her. From her dusty veil to her bare dusty feet. His eyes darkened. "You came in your wedding dress. Good. It saves time. And it reminds you that you were abandoned today." He pushed a file across his glass table to her. "Contract Marriage. 90 days. You will be my wife. In return, I will pay for your mother's surgery tonight, give you a house, and pay you $50,000 at the end of 90 days. You will live with me. You will act like you love me." Amara's hands shook as she read. Rule 1: No falling in love. Rule 2: No kissing, no touching without permission. Rule 3: Divorce after 90 days, no questions asked, no extra money. "Why me?" she asked, voice broken. "You could have any girl in Lagos." "Because you have nothing, and you need everything," he said coldly, stepping closer. He smelled like expensive cologne and power. "And I need a wife who will not fall in love with me. A desperate girl never falls in love. She obeys." Her heart broke a little more. Desperate. She thought of Daniel kissing her sister. Of the crowd laughing. Of her mother dying. She picked up the pen with shaking fingers. "Where do I sign?" Ethan's eyes dropped to her trembling lips, then to her signature as she signed. His jaw tightened. "You just sold 90 days of your life to me, Amara. Body and soul. Don't regret it. And one more thing..." He leaned in, his voice a whisper against her ear. "From today, you will never walk barefoot again. I will carry you if I have to. Because you are now a Black. And Blacks don't beg."