Choosing the billionaire

IZZY.I entered the lavish event room, my own breath holding for a moment at the utter elegance of it. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow that was reflected off the highly polished marble floors. Waiters in starched white uniforms glided easily between groups of well-dressed people, presenting glasses of champagne and hors d'oeuvres on silver trays. The room was filled with the sound of polite chatter and soft classical music.I discreetly rubbed my damp palms on the material of my chic black dress. Richard and Hannah were now officially on my hit list. As if forcing me to come on little more than a moment's notice hadn't been enough, I’d only just found out an hour ago that I was also expected to give a speech.A fucking speech. A speech I was completely unprepared for.My stomach churned with nervousness. I felt like throwing up. I sighed in frustration and snatched a glass of wine from a nearby waiter and took a gulp, then another, then another. If

ROSHAN. I was in a foul mood.The kind that made people scramble out of my way as I stalked into the towering headquarters of Armen Corps.I was already on edge after losing two hundred thousand dollars because some incompetent manager at one of the branches had screwed up an important deal. Now, my entire day was ruined, and I was itching to tear into someone. As I strode through the marble-floored lobby, Jordan fell into step beside me, effortlessly matching my pace. My Chief Operating Officer. My right-hand man and, arguably, the only person in the company who could speak to me without watching his words. “You’re late,” Jordan said, glancing at his Rolex. I grunted. “Bad morning.” “I figured,” Jordan replied dryly. “Your face looks like you’re about to kill someone.” I didn’t bother denying it. Jordan exhaled. “You might want to reel it in. The board wants to see you.” My scowl deepened. “What now?” “They didn’t say,” Jordan shrugged, adjusting his suit cuffs. “But

IZZYI sat still, his gaze locked onto mine—like he could hear my thoughts.“I see the shock on your face—it’s impossible to hide,” he said, reclining into his chair.Of course.I’m stunned. The father of my unborn child is proposing marriage.“If I may ask, why do you need to marry me?” I probed, my fingers making air quotes.He smirked, his gaze still locked onto mine as he responded. “I need a wife, and you need money for your Aunt Willow’s treatment.”How did he know that?My stomach dropped. He isn’t just offering me marriage—he’s using my desperation as leverage.“Don’t beat yourself up. I did my research,” he deadpanned. “I need a wife, and you need money.”“You expect me to marry you just because I’m desperate?” I gritted my teeth.Roshan exhaled, his fingers tapping against the smooth, polished tabletop. “I expect you to agree to this because it benefits us both. We sign a contract, stay married for a year, and then go our separate ways.”A contract marriage?Oh boy, could my

ROSHAN There she was, standing right in front of me, just as I expected.Her eyes bored into mine, like I held the key to her survival. She was the perfect candidate for this—educated, well-mannered—though we’d had a rough night.I studied her closely, feeling Jordan’s gaze on me.Why was he even here?He cleared his throat, breaking the silence.“Come in,” he said, acting all welcoming, like he owned the study.“And you are?” Isabella asked, her gaze shifting from me to him.Her attitude—so imposing, yet sharp, intellectual.“Have a seat,” I said, finally breaking the silence.She hesitated but then sat down, her posture rigid.“I’m Jordan. His right-hand man,” Jordan introduced himself, still recovering from the shock of her presence.“Nice to meet you too,” she replied, a smirk spreading across her face.“Now, straight to business,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “This is the contract. Read through it carefully and sign where due. Your payment is outlined, along with other guidin