Love-Battle Executive: Husband of High Society Fails

It's 3 AM, and I still can't sleep. Tomorrow is my wedding day, and I'm so nervous that my stomach won't stop grumbling. I only have five hours to try to get some sleep, but I just can't relax. 

My whole life was turned upside down in a matter of a few weeks. Thirty days ago, I was a homeless girl living in my car with no job. Then I heard that a well-known company was looking for a secretary. I was not expecting to get the job; surprisingly, I passed, and they hired me immediately.

After a couple of days, my boss called me into his office. I found him scrolling on his phone. When he noticed that I was standing before him, he showed me what he was looking at—it was an article about him. I've seen many articles like this; they keep spreading rumors about him. My boss is the young CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the world, so it's not shocking that many news agencies are desperate to learn the tiniest piece of information about him. On my first day, I heard them saying that one of the janitors used to sell the trash from the CEO's office to one of those agencies!

After a few minutes, he removed the phone from my face and said, "As you can see, these people just won't give me a break. Honestly, I couldn't care less about what they write about me, but you see, my family reads these articles, and haters keep sending them to my parents. The family says that it's damaging our reputation and that I should do something about it."

I assumed that he was expecting me to take action, so I said, "I understand, sir. Perhaps we can arrange a meeting with them and agree on a price for their silence, or if you prefer, we can take this to court and sue them."

He sighed and said, "No, that won't work. A lawsuit may take years, and if I pay them once, they'll keep provoking me for more. These sorts of solutions won't solve anything."

I had no other ideas. I was about to ask him what else we were supposed to do when he suddenly got up and said, "Most of these rumors revolve around my love life. They have created this image of me as a rich playboy who has many affairs and mistresses. They know that I come from a strict family that rejects such behavior, and that's exactly why they spread these rumors. I bet one of our rivals started them, and at some point, the agencies got on board and began making up more stories because apparently, articles about my love affairs make more money than articles about global warming or politics."

I sighed and said, "I believe you're right, sir. So how do you want us to handle it?"

He glanced at me, then picked up his car keys and walked out of the office. He motioned for me to follow him, which I did. When we reached the garage, he told me to get in his car. I obeyed him, and he drove out of the company's garage and into the city. He took me to a small café. I was surprised; why would we come here in the middle of the day? But I assumed that he simply craved some good coffee and was sick of the instant coffee that I made for him.

Once our coffee arrived, he took a sip, then turned his attention back to me and said, "I brought you here because this part can't be discussed in the office. We will solve the issues, but it's only going to be the two of us. Only you can help me with this."

I was starting to get nervous. I didn't feel good about the tone he was using; I could feel my palms sweating. I managed to find my voice and asked, "Of course, Sir, what do you want me to do?"

He took a large sip of his coffee, then put his cup down and looked at me. He was looking me in the eye. Usually, I couldn't maintain eye contact with him, but this time felt different. He said in the most serious tone, "I need you to marry me."

The deal was to get married for only a year, and then he would pay me four million dollars. His conditions were that I should disappear after the divorce and that I shouldn't expect anything from the relationship. I would become his wife in front of his family and the public, and I would no longer work as his secretary. However, when it was just the two of us, I must not try anything or hope for anything.

Of course, I couldn't object or say anything. All I did was nod my head at everything he said. I ordered so much water; I felt so dehydrated from how much I was sweating and from how nervous I was. Whenever I tried to say anything, he would interrupt me or ignore me.

He arranged everything himself. I didn't even get to choose the wedding dress; he told me that I was going to wear his mother's wedding dress and that it was her wish. She never had a daughter, so she would love to see her future daughter-in-law getting married in her dress. Apparently, the entire family is as controlling as he is; even his father insisted that we have the wedding in their mansion. The entire wedding planning was done in a few weeks, and I had no say in any of it.

Three days ago, he called me and told me to prepare myself because the wedding is in three days! I know that for him, I'm just his poor secretary and that this is merely a job for me: to pretend to be a bride, then pretend to be his wife for a year, get paid four million dollars, and disappear. Any sane woman would jump at this opportunity; I know that. It's not like I'm complaining—I have no objections to this job. However, what I'm nervous about is meeting his family. How am I supposed to act around them? What sort of behavior is acceptable, and what is not? 

Will they hate me? Will they figure us out and reject our marriage? Will I lose my job if they reject the marriage? If I can't convince them for an entire year that I'm his lovely, obedient wife, I'll lose both the job I got after years of job hunting and the four million dollar deal!

After twisting and turning for hours in bed, I finally fell asleep.

I woke up to my alarm at 8 a.m. My wedding is in 6 hours; I barely have time to have breakfast and get ready. Normally, a bride on her wedding day would be surrounded by her family and friends. Unfortunately, I don't have a family; I grew up in an orphanage alone, and all my friends abandoned me when I was homeless. 

I don't have anyone with me on the most important day of my life, and my future husband is ordering me around. He told me to be ready by noon. The limousine will arrive at 11 a.m. to pick me up and take me to the salon, and then I will be taken to our wedding reception in one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. The wedding celebration will continue at his family's mansion.

I had some tea and a boiled egg for breakfast. It's going to be a long day, so I need protein. After breakfast, I washed up and brushed my teeth. I didn't know where to start; at the salon, they will take care of my nails and face, so there's really nothing left for me to do myself.

I decided to waste time by scrolling on my phone. I came across an article about my controlling fiancé; it was another interesting story. I don't know much about my fiancé. Before we got engaged, he would barely speak to me. It was all about work—he would say, "Bring me some coffee," or "Print these papers again."

Whether these stories about his affairs are true or not, I would never know. I don't know how I feel about these articles. Should I be grateful to the people who write these stories about him, or hate them with all my being? 

Technically, those articles are the reason why I'm marrying him today. If things turn out well, I would be very grateful to them, but if things turn into a disaster before the end of the year, I'll curse them till the last day of my life.

The limousine finally arrived. I picked up my things and left my apartment. Before I walked out the door, I looked around one last time. This small apartment had been my home for a short period, but I felt safer here than in any other place I've ever stayed. I had never felt safe or loved at the orphanage; I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I was bullied in high school and didn't have many friends in college. This apartment was the first home I was able to make for myself. It was my small kingdom, my very first home.

I said goodbye to my home and walked out.

When I got into the limousine, the driver offered me a soft drink and told me to relax, assuring me that we would arrive at the salon in less than 15 minutes.

When I arrived at the salon, I was welcomed by a long queue of employees. I felt startled and confused as about five girls began working on my nails and feet, while two others started doing my hair. A few minutes later, a woman who I assumed was their manager arrived, welcomed me, and offered me a drink and some snacks. I told her that I would only accept coffee, so she ordered one of the girls to get it for me. Then, she started giving instructions to the girls who were working on my hair, face, and nails.

After a couple of hours, they were finally done. They made me stand before a huge mirror to take a look at my final appearance. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't even recognize myself; I looked like an entirely different person. I was wearing my fiancé's mother's old wedding dress. It was a vintage dress, and despite its age, it was still very classy. The design and fabric were the definition of old money style.

The employees were obviously proud of their work. Judging from my shocked reaction, they knew I was speechless and assumed that I loved what they had done. The manager walked up to me and said, "I love this reaction! Be brutally honest—what do you think? How do you feel about your look? Are you happy with this style?"

I didn't know how to describe my feelings. I felt a huge lump in my throat, my palms started sweating, and my feet were cold. I tried to ignore my stomach grumbling, but it was hopeless. As a tear slid down my cheek, suddenly around six employees rushed to me with napkins and tried to brush it away. The manager proudly said, "It's okay, girls. We use only the best makeup brands; you can cry all you want—no amount of tears will ruin your beautiful makeup."

One of the employees sensed my discomfort and said, "I think our bride here is actually upset; these aren't tears of joy." I tried to stop crying and gently wipe my tears. I looked away from the mirror and said, "It's nothing. Thank you so much; you've done a great job. The limousine will be here any minute, so I should get going."

The manager took me to the waiting hall, where I sat alone in silence and waited. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe slowly. Then, I felt someone approach me. It was one of the girls who had given me napkins. She sat down next to me and said, "In moments like these, a bride needs someone to hold her hands. I noticed that you don't have anyone with you today. I can hold your hands until your ride arrives if you want."

I was touched by the sweetness of this girl. I smiled genuinely for the first time in a while and accepted her offer. As we were waiting, I couldn't hold it together anymore, and I broke down in tears. I didn't even know this girl, yet I found comfort in her presence and cried like a child on her shoulder. She softly patted my back. After a few minutes, I lifted my head; luckily, my makeup wasn't damaged. She carefully fixed it up and wiped away my tears. She smiled at me and said, "It's okay to be scared. My sister was scared too on her wedding day."

I felt strangely comfortable with this stranger. I don't know why, but I suddenly decided to open up to her. "I'm not just scared; I'm terrified! You see, I don't even know the man I'm about to marry. I don't know what kind of life I'll have from here on. If I mess up, I'll lose both my future and the job I finally secured. Everything will fall apart. I could lose everything just when I thought my life was finally getting good. Suddenly, it feels like I'm about to lose everything again!"

At this point, I was rambling, and I knew that. She smiled warmly at me and said, "It's simple, dear. Be strong. Don't allow anyone to take away the future you worked so hard for. You deserve only the best, so don't be a victim. Be strong and get a grip on your life."

As she said that, my driver called and informed me that he was here. I stood up, and she fixed my makeup one last time. Before I got in the elevator, I took her hand and thanked her, then I left.

During the drive to the wedding reception, I couldn't stop thinking about what she had said. Suddenly, I felt something in my chest; it was like a flame—a new flame starting in my heart. "Be strong. Don't allow anyone to take away the future you worked so hard for. You deserve only the best, so don't be a victim." Her words echoed in my mind. Suddenly, I wasn't scared anymore, and my tears had completely dried.

When we arrived at the hotel, I called my fiancé. He knew that I didn't have any family members, so he assumed that I was feeling lonely and sent his cousin to me. I told her as gently as I could that I needed to see my fiancé and no one else. She was surprised and called my fiancé for me. When he showed up, he looked puzzled. He closed the door behind him and said, "What's wrong with you? You better not be getting cold feet now. The whole family is here; my business partner is here. We don't have time for this! If you're nervous, just calm down and let's go!" 

He turned around to leave as he said that, but before he reached the door, I raised my voice and said, "Stop! Don't go. There's something important that you need to hear."

He turned to me in confusion, his brow furrowing as he processed my words. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I was about to say. The air in the room felt thick, charged with tension.

"I won’t marry you," I said slowly,

letting each word hang in the air. "Unless we make a little change in our deal."