Married to my Arrogant Sponsor

“You have exactly seven days to pay your tuition or you’re out.”

That was it.

No “sorry,” no soft landing. Just a cold, official sentence served like stale cafeteria food from the mouth of a university official who didn’t even bother to look Ava in the eye.

Ava stood frozen in the hallway outside the Ravenswood University administration office, blinking at the letter in her hand as if it would magically turn into a scholarship instead. Spoiler: it didn’t

The wind outside bit through her cheap coat as students passed her, laughing in designer sneakers and noise-canceling headphones. She pulled her hoodie tighter and took a shaky breath.

Five thousand dollars.

Seven days.

Or everything she’d worked for gone.

She had already stretched herself thin. Two part-time jobs. Eating ramen three nights a week. Tutoring rich kids who barely remembered her name. Her grades were perfect, but her luck? Nonexistent.

She stared at the notice again. The ink blurred slightly. Either from the cold or the tears she wasn’t going to let fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

Across campus, in a building most students didn’t even know existed, Grayson Wolfe stared at a spreadsheet, unimpressed.

At twenty-seven, he didn’t need to care about student affairs. His company, WolfeTech, was already worth hundreds of millions. But his late father’s will had tied a yearly university sponsorship to his inheritance.

So here he was billionaire, investor, part-time puppet reviewing applications for a scholarship he couldn’t care less about.

“Top three candidates,” his assistant said, setting a slim folder on his desk. “One stands out.”

He opened the folder lazily. Inside: a picture, a transcript, and a file labeled Ava Sinclair.

4.0 GPA. Dual majors. Works two jobs. Quiet. Keeps to herself.

He glanced at her photo.

Dark eyes that didn’t smile. Hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun. There was something about her not soft exactly, but raw. A kind of don’t-mess-with-me edge.

“She’s desperate,” he said, flipping the file closed.

“Exactly,” his assistant replied.

Grayson leaned back. A tiny smirk curved at the edge of his mouth.

“Send her the offer.”

Ava hadn’t planned on taking any more meetings today. But when the email came through vague, formal, and slightly suspicious something told her to at least hear them out. Curiosity is free, after all.

The woman who met her in the private office looked like she stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine. Silk blouse. Icy stare. Business hair.

“We’re offering you a full sponsorship,” she said without small talk. “Complete coverage of tuition, housing, textbooks, and a monthly allowance.”

Ava narrowed her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

The woman didn’t blink. “A one-year confidential marriage. Legal, binding, and strictly professional.”

Ava blinked. Once. Twice.

“I’m sorry what?”

“You’ll be married on paper to the sponsor, Mr. Grayson Wolfe. You’ll live in a guesthouse on his estate. There will be ground rules, and a signed NDA.”

Ava almost laughed. Almost. Except she couldn’t afford to laugh when rent was three weeks late and her bank account was literally negative.

“This is insane.”

“It’s optional.”

She looked down at the thick stack of documents.

Fake marriage. To a billionaire. For money. 

Ava laughed nervously. "This is a joke, right? Like... a prank show?"

"No cameras. No joke."

"You want me to marry someone I've never met?" 

"Technically, you haven't just met him yet. But yes."

Ava's heart pounded. Her instincts screamed run, but her logic whispered stay. Five thousand dollars was more than a number now. It was her dream, her future, her everything. But it was also her only real option.

Her future wasn’t just on the line. It was dangling off the edge of a cliff, and this offer, as twisted as it was, felt like the only rope.

“Do I at least get to meet him first?”

The woman’s lips barely moved. “He’ll be in touch. But I’d advise you to review the contract thoroughly.”

Later that evening…

Grayson watched the campus security footage from his home office. He had eyes everywhere. That’s what happened when you donated half the university’s technology budget.

He watched Ava walk out of the building with the folder clutched to her chest like a bomb.

“She’s going to say yes,” he murmured, a slow grin pulling at his lips. “They always do.”

He shut the laptop.

And waited.