Zara had never worn designer anything in her life, but the silk gown hugging her body whispered wealth with every step she took. It had arrived in a black box, no note—just an instruction: “Be ready by 7 PM. Driver will pick you up.”
Now, seated in the back of a bulletproof SUV with tinted windows, she felt like an unwilling star in a blockbuster she hadn’t auditioned for.
The driver pulled into a grand estate in Ikoyi. The gates opened with quiet precision, unveiling a mansion straight from an architecture magazine—glass and steel merging into sleek, commanding shapes.
She barely stepped out of the car before the door swung open.
And there he stood.
Dami Adeyemi in a tuxedo that probably cost more than her annual salary. His face stayed calm, but his eyes scanned her like he was sizing her up.
“You look clean,” he said.
“Surprising as you don’t seem like the type to compliment people easily.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
She followed him inside. The mansion was vast, minimalist, and cold—just like its owner. Art lined the walls, each piece more abstract than the last. No personal photos. No warmth. Just space and silence.
They stopped at a private dining room, where a chef and a steward waited with practiced politeness.
“Sit,” Dami said, gesturing to a chair.
Zara folded into it, back straight, like she was in a job interview.
“This dinner,” Dami said, pouring himself a glass of wine, “is to go over the rules.”
“Rules?”
He slid a printed contract across the table. “Clauses. Expectations. Boundaries.”
Zara picked it up, skimming the content:
No romantic entanglements outside the marriage during the contract period.
Public appearances at events: minimum of twice monthly.
No sharing of personal details with the press.
One-year duration, with a possibility of early termination under mutual agreement.
No physical intimacy unless mutually initiated.
Financial support guaranteed monthly.
She looked up. “So basically, be your pretty little mannequin and keep my mouth shut?”
“Be my wife, convincingly. That’s all I require.”
“And what do I get beyond saving my father’s life?”
“Everything I promised. Plus a new start, if you want it.”
Zara folded her arms. “Tell me something, Dami. Why do you hate the idea of love so much?”
His jaw tightened. “Because love is leverage. People weaponize it. Use it to manipulate, to control. Business never lies. Feelings do.”
His voice was cold and bitter, and it made her flinch.
“Alright,” she said as she executed the contract. “But don’t forget that this is an arrangement and it doesn’t mean I will pretend to like you.”
A brief twitch pulled at his lips. “Good. It’ll make things easier.”
The next day, the engagement went public.
Zara woke up to her phone buzzing with dozens of missed calls, texts, and headlines screaming:
“Billionaire Dami Adeyemi Engaged to Mystery Woman.”
“Who is Zara Adigun?”“From Debt to Diamonds: A Cinderella Story?”Her social media blew up with strangers tagging her. Some calling her lucky, others accusing her of gold-digging.
She sighed and tossed the phone aside in frustration.
By noon, a PR consultant named Tope arrived at her flat with a team of stylists.
“You’ll need to move into the Adeyemi residence by the end of the week,” Tope said. “We’re prepping you for the first official appearance as fiancée at the Lagos Philanthropy Gala.”
“Do I at least get a say in what I wear?” Zara muttered as a stylist measured her waist.
Tope smiled. “Only if it fits the Adeyemi image.”
Zara raised a brow. “What exactly is the Adeyemi image?”
“Elegant. Unshakable. Untouchable.”
The Lagos Philanthropy Gala was a vortex of power. Ministers, CEOs, celebrities. Zara descended the grand staircase beside Dami, cameras flashing like lightning.
Her dress was emerald satin, the color making her brown skin glow. Dami’s arm was wrapped around her waist, every gesture calculated.
He leaned down, whispering, “Smile like you mean it.”
She flashed a radiant grin, her fingers pressing just a bit harder against his arm in retaliation.
They greeted dignitaries, posed for pictures, answered questions with perfectly practiced synergy.
“Tell us how you met!” one reporter called out.
Zara smiled sweetly. “It was unexpected, but... I suppose fate doesn’t give warnings.”
Dami added, “When you know, you know.”
They looked at each other for the camera, the illusion flawless.
But in their eyes, a silent war raged.
Later that night, back at the mansion, Zara removed her heels and let out a deep breath.
“That was draining,” she whispered.
Dami loosened his tie, watching her from across the room.
“You handled it well.”
“High praise,” she said dryly. “Are we done playing house for today?”
He walked to the mini bar, poured himself a drink. “Not yet. I need to show you something important.”
She paused. “More rules?”
“No,” he said, his tone quieter. “Just... something you should know.”
He handed her a photo from a locked drawer.
Zara stared at the image: a younger Dami with a woman in a white dress, beaming, holding his hand.
“Your ex-wife?”
He nodded. “Tomi. We were childhood friends. Married for the cameras. She betrayed me. Sold confidential company intel to a competitor for revenge.”
Zara’s throat tightened. “Why?”
“She wanted love. I gave her everything but that.”
Zara set the photo down gently. “So that’s why you made me sign that contract. You’re afraid of another Tomi.”
He didn’t answer. Just sipped his drink, lost in memories.
Zara stood and turned to leave. “Good night, Mr. Adeyemi.”
He looked at her. “You’re not her.”
She paused at the door. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you won’t try to punish me for her mistakes.”
She walked away, head high, heels clicking like punctuation marks to a silent truth neither of them wanted to admit:
This marriage might be fake.
But the damage?
That could be very real.
The afterglow of the gala still shimmered in Zara’s thoughts as she sat quietly in her room the following morning. The memory of Dami’s hand against hers stuck in her memory, subtle, yet impossible to ignore. She was not sure if it was hope or fear stirring deep within her.She received a message from the PR team reminding them about upcoming interviews, public appearances, and social media engagements. The public wanted their fairy tale. But Zara wasn’t sure she wanted to play the part any longer.A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Dami lingered by the door, his usual calm replaced by an unfamiliar hesitation.“Can we talk for a bit?” he asked quietly.Zara gave a slight nod, inviting him to sit.They faced each other, tense but unspoken words.“I am not sure how to navigate this,” Dami admitted as his usual composure slipping to reveal his vulnerability. “Not just the marriage, but... us.”Zara’s heart tightened. “Neither do I.”He looked at her, searching for an anchor in the s
Morning light streamed into the Adeyemi mansion, soft and golden, spilling across the floors. Zara sat by the living room window, quietly tracing the edge of her coffee cup. Everything around her seemed calm, but it only made her feel more unsettled. After all the chaos—media attention, the gala, and Dami’s aunt’s cutting words—this peace felt unfamiliar.Her thoughts were loud in the silence. The terms of their contract echoed in her mind, making her feel more trapped by the hour. This marriage was a transaction, and every day reminded her of that.The front door clicked open. Dami walked in without saying a word. He looked presentable as usual, but his eyes concealed sadness and pain.“You are awake early,” Zara said, not turning to look at him.He sat in a chair facing her. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. “Looks like you couldn’t either.”Just because I’m looking doesn’t mean I want to talk.”"For a moment, his eyes melted and then he hid it with his usual calm. 'We do not have much
Zara sat in the corner of the bedroom, hugging her knees close while reflecting on her father’s past and current health struggles. She scrolled through her phone gallery as she looked through old pictures of her dad. In one, he was laughing with his eyes shut tight, a moment that felt far away now. In another picture, he was deep in thought over a chess game, carefully planning his next move like his life depends on it.Her eyes were clouded, but she blinked quickly to hold back the tears from falling. She hadn’t expected it to hurt this bad, reminiscing to the good memories while everything else slipped further away each time she visited the hospital. Her father’s smile had grown fragile, stretched thin between the pain and the endless medications.But there was no time for weakness. Not here. Not with Dami Adeyemi’s cold, calculating gaze just outside the door.The contract rested on the dresser—a cold, official paper, spelling out the terms of a marriage neither of them truly wante
The morning sunlight shone softly and gently through the tall windows across the neat living room. Zara stood by the kitchen island, her hand moving almost on its own as she stirred her tea, lost in thought.She was trying to map out how to survive this contract marriage without losing herself.A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.Dami leaned casually against the doorway, clean-shaven and dressed down—she couldn’t remember the last time he looked so... human.“Morning,” Zara replied, a bit thrown by the calm between them.He reached for a mug, eyes briefly meeting hers as he took a sip. “Did you sleep well?”Zara shrugged. “Better than I thought I would.”His laugh came unexpectedly—warm, short, and real. It caught her off guard. “You keep proving me wrong,” he said.“She smiled, and for a moment, the wall between them cracked.But it was brief.Dami cleared his throat. “We have a board meeting today. I expect you to come.”Zara arched her brow. “Me? The board?”“It’s time you under
Zara had never worn designer anything in her life, but the silk gown hugging her body whispered wealth with every step she took. It had arrived in a black box, no note—just an instruction: “Be ready by 7 PM. Driver will pick you up.”Now, seated in the back of a bulletproof SUV with tinted windows, she felt like an unwilling star in a blockbuster she hadn’t auditioned for.The driver pulled into a grand estate in Ikoyi. The gates opened with quiet precision, unveiling a mansion straight from an architecture magazine—glass and steel merging into sleek, commanding shapes.She barely stepped out of the car before the door swung open.And there he stood.Dami Adeyemi in a tuxedo that probably cost more than her annual salary. His face stayed calm, but his eyes scanned her like he was sizing her up.“You look clean,” he said.“Surprising as you don’t seem like the type to compliment people easily.”“Don’t be so sure.”She followed him inside. The mansion was vast, minimalist, and cold—just
Zara Adigun looked blankly at the cracked ceiling of the hospital room, the sterile air with fear. The relentless beeping echoed beside her father’s bed like a grim lullaby to her thoughts. How did everything fall apart?Twelve months ago, Adigun & Co was a household name in the Nigerian construction industry. Her father had been a visionary,ethical, passionate, and goal driven leader. But one dishonest partner and a failed government contract later, the legacy he had built teetered on the edge of ruin. And now, here he lay, his once-energetic voice silenced by a stroke, his future held hostage by mounting hospital bills and lawsuits.Zara squeezed his lifeless hand. “I’m going to make things right, Daddy. I promise you.”A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. She turned to find her mother at the doorway, her face was tight with worry.“Zara, you have a visitor. He says it’s about your father’s debt.”Zara’s heart sank. Another creditor?She stepped out with her mother into the hall