Chapter 7

It felt like all my happy bubbles popped at once. The thrill from last night, gone. Replaced with anger and confusion.

Triple interest? For what? I knew he had a motive. He knew they were my parents. He had to know. Why else would he help them that way? But with a sky-high interest? That wasn’t charity, that was a trap.

I didn’t sleep a wink. I kept running scenarios in my head, trying to figure out how I’d confront him.

And now, here I was. Standing outside his office, clutching his black suit in my hands, practically begging his assistant.

“Can you please tell him I’ll wait? Even if it takes hours?” I pleaded softly.

Her eyes drifted to the suit I was holding. Her brow lifted slightly. “I told you to go back to work. I’ll call you once his schedule clears up today.”

“This is really important,” I insisted, holding the suit tighter.

“And so are his meetings, Audrey,” she replied coolly.

Audrey? My jaw tightened. She never called me Audrey. It was always Ms. Watson, just like her boss did. My blood boiled, but I forced myself to sit down in the waiting area.

Hours passed. Romeo kept calling. I ignored it.

Finally, I saw people exiting Mr. Gibson’s office. I shot up from my seat, but his assistant blocked me immediately.

“That’s it,” she snapped quietly. “I’m informing your boss you’re skipping your tasks.”

I pointed toward Mr. Gibson’s door, glaring. “Then go tell him!”

We both jumped as the door opened, and there he was.

Mr. Gibson stepped out, his expression unreadable but sharp. His assistant straightened, ready with her explanation.

“Is there a problem?” His tone was calm, but firm.

“Sir, she’s insisting on speaking with you,” his assistant explained quickly. “I already told her you’re in meetings and she needs to wait.”

“Cancel all of them,” he cut in coldly, his eyes never leaving mine. “We’re not done talking until this is settled. Shall we?”

His assistant’s jaw dropped. I didn’t bother apologizing. I marched in after him.

Inside, I was momentarily distracted by the breathtaking view from his office windows. Floor-to-ceiling glass, the whole city stretched out before me.

But no amount of expensive view could erase the anger simmering in my chest.

His office was a lot bigger than I imagined. To the left, I spotted a glass door, probably his private meeting room. On the right, a sleek black door. The restroom, I assumed.

Mr. Gibson pointed to the chair in front of his desk, then sank into his swivel chair, his hands calmly clasped together.

“Do we have a problem, Ms. Watson?” he asked smoothly, like he already knew why I was here.

My blood boiled at how calm he was, as if he planned all of this. As if he was just waiting for me to connect the dots.

I didn’t sit down. Instead, I marched to his desk and threw his black suit at his face.

His eyes widened in shock as the suit landed on him, his mouth falling open for a second.

“You planned this,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t even look surprised when I brought it up. You knew my address. You acted like you didn’t know anything about me, but you’ve been watching me. You’ve been digging into my life.”

He gathered himself quickly, brushing the suit aside and leaning back in his chair.

“Meeting you in that elevator, learning about your family’s situation, it wasn’t hard to realize you needed my help,” he said evenly.

“Help?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Tripling our debt is helpful? Are you insane?”

His eyes darkened slightly, calculating every flicker of my reaction. “Would you rather see your father die, debt-free?”

My heart stopped. “What, what are you talking about?”

Mr. Gibson stood, walking around the desk slowly. “When I looked into your family’s debt, my investigator uncovered something.” He paused, eyes locked on mine. “The people your father borrowed money from, they’re planning to have him killed.”

My knees buckled. I collapsed into the chair in front of his desk, my hands gripping my chest, struggling to breathe.

Assassinate,? My father? Over money?

Mr. Gibson grabbed a glass of water and handed it to me.

“You should be thanking me for saving him,” he continued coldly. “My lawyer met with your mother privately. Your father, with his weak heart, do you think he’s ready to hear that someone wants him dead? Or, ” He tilted his head. “, do you want me to be the one to tell him?”

My hand trembled as I raised the glass to my lips. It felt like my chest was going to explode from the weight of everything he’d just told me.

I couldn’t believe it. All of this, happening right under my nose, and I had no idea.

“Your mother agreed to my offer,” Mr. Gibson continued, his tone calm, almost emotionless. “She’s fully aware of the triple interest, Audrey.”

My throat tightened.

“I never forced anyone into this deal,” he added. “I was simply, offering help.”

Help? That word again.

I struggled to steady my breathing. It felt like the air had been sucked from the room, my heart pounding like it wanted to escape my chest.

“Why?” I managed to say, my voice shaking but determined. “Why would you even do that? You know we can’t afford it. You know we can’t pay back that much. So what’s in it for you?”

Mr. Gibson slowly walked around the desk and sat directly in front of me, his eyes locked on mine.

“I have an offer for you,” he said simply.

I frowned, confused. “An offer?”

“Yes.” He leaned forward slightly. “I need someone to be my fake wife.”

The words hit me like a slap.

“F-Fake, wife?” I repeated, completely stunned. “Me? You want me to pretend to be your wife?”

“You heard me right.” His tone was calm, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “My parents are coming back from the States, and they’re planning to arrange a marriage for me. With their favorite ex of mine. She’s abroad, successful, exactly their type.”

I swallowed hard, still trying to process it. “And, you’d rather marry a stranger like me than her?”

“I’m not a man who likes being told what to do, Audrey,” he said plainly. “But when it comes to my parents, it’s complicated. I need a valid reason to shut down their plans.”

He leaned back, watching me carefully.

“You see, I need you just as much as you need me.”

My pulse raced. “And if I agree? That’s it? Our debts, gone?”

“I’ll decide the details once I know your answer,” he replied, standing up and adjusting his sleeves.

“That’s it for today.” His eyes lingered on me, unreadable. “At least now, you know your options. And exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

I stayed frozen in my seat as he walked toward the door.

“That’s for you to decide,” he added over his shoulder, leaving me breathless, confused, and tangled in a choice I never saw coming.

I was completely puzzled the whole day. Romeo and Rose kept eyeing me, wondering why I had been called to the CEO’s office. It wasn’t exactly common for someone like me, a regular employee, to be summoned by him.

I simply told them he was verifying my information, since I lied before. Thankfully, they bought it. But deep down, my mind wouldn’t rest.

Who agrees to marry a man they barely know?

Sure, I knew him as my boss. The cold, powerful, intimidating Mr. Gibson. He was every woman’s dream, no doubt. But marrying for money? For security?

Would it really save me?

His words from earlier echoed in my head.

“Think about it, Audrey. You have until six tonight.”

And now, it was six.

My heart pounded like it wanted to burst from my chest. It felt like selling my freedom, my dignity, for money. For my family. But, could I really do that? Was it worth it?

“You coming home, sis?” Romeo’s voice pulled me back to reality as he noticed me packing my things.

“Uh, yeah, Dad needs me to do something,” I lied quickly.

Rose nudged me playfully. “Ooooh, you have a date, don’t you?”

“Nothing like that!” I shot back, but the two exchanged knowing looks.

“Confirmed,” they both teased in unison.

“Alright, good luck,” Romeo winked. “Just don’t forget to wear protection, okay?”

I burst out laughing, my nerves easing for a second. My wild imagination painted ridiculous pictures in my head. “You’re insane,” I chuckled. “See you Monday.”

But as I stepped out of the building, the teasing stopped.

A black car was waiting at the entrance.

A man in a crisp black suit got out and opened the backseat door.

Confused, I looked around. No one else was there.

I pointed to myself. “Me?”

The man smiled politely. “Yes, Ms. Watson. Mr. Gibson is asking for you.”

I rode in silence, nerves twisting my stomach the whole way.

Why all the suspense?

We could’ve talked about this in his office, settled it like normal people. But no, Mr. Gibson clearly liked to make things complicated.

I kept quiet, trying to memorize the roads we were taking. My eyes widened when we finally stopped in front of a high-end bar.

Confusion hit me. What?

This was the same bar Romeo and I went to for his birthday. Except now, the place looked entirely different. No crowd, no loud music, just quiet and classy.

The driver opened the car door. I stepped out, nerves crawling under my skin. Another man was waiting for me, dressed in black, calm and professional.

He didn’t say much. Just guided me inside and upstairs, towards the VIP section. I barely noticed the few customers downstairs; it was still early.

When he left me alone in the room, I sat on the plush sofa, completely out of place.

I scanned the room. Velvet seats, spotless tables, soft lighting, Everything screamed money. My friends and I couldn’t even afford the drinks here last time. We stayed downstairs near the bar, the cheap side.

But this, this was a different world.

My eyes landed on a small box sitting on the table in front of me. Beside it, a note written in neat, familiar handwriting:

“Take it if yes. Leave it if not.”

I stared for a moment, my heart racing. Slowly, I reached for the box and lifted the lid.

A ring.

Simple, yet beautiful. Tiny diamonds circled the band, delicate but impossible to ignore.

I couldn’t help but smile a little. How the hell does he even know my ring size?

First, my family background, then my address, now this.

Mr. Gibson really did his homework.

I slid the ring onto my finger. Perfect fit.

My chest tightened as I stared at it. Half an hour passed, maybe more. Food and drinks arrived, untouched. My appetite? Gone.

Who could eat when your whole life was suddenly flipped upside down with a simple choice?

I was still staring at the untouched food when the door finally opened.

Mr. Gibson walked in, cool and unreadable as ever.

I moved to the side, giving him space when he entered. Same sharp black suit. Same confident stride.

“Sorry, I’m late. Last-minute meeting,” he said casually, loosening his tie.

“It’s okay,” I replied, shifting a little farther as he sat next to me, even though the entire room was huge. He still chose to sit close.

His eyes drifted to the untouched food on the table. “Not hungry?”

I shook my head. “No appetite.”

He ignored that completely, grabbing a plate and filling it with food. Without asking, he placed it in front of me.

I blinked at him. “I literally just told you, ”

“Eat,” he interrupted, voice calm but firm.

I sighed but picked up the fork, taking small bites. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

His lips curled into a small smirk. “I prefer watching you eat.”

I nearly choked on my food at his words. Was that a joke? A flirt? Or was this just how he always spoke?

A few minutes passed in quiet as we both ate. It wasn’t awkward. Just strange. Like we were both lost in thought.

Once he finished, he signaled the waiter to clear the table, then turned to face me.

His eyes flicked down to my hand, the ring still on my finger.

My heart skipped.

“So, what’s your decision?” His voice was steady, but there was something unreadable in his gaze.

I let out a nervous breath and raised a brow. “Just to be clear, you don’t have a secret girlfriend? I’m not going to be some homewrecker? No angry ex is going to hunt me down and pull my hair?”

A small laugh escaped him, rare and unexpected. “None. You’re safe.”

I stood up, walking toward the glass window that overlooked the street below. The city lights blinked, and people moved like tiny dots, oblivious to the strange deal happening above their heads.

“Then why real marriage?” I asked, gripping the railing. “Why not pretend? Say we’re married, but keep it on paper?”

His voice came from right beside me. He had moved so silently that didn’t even hear him approach.

“My family isn’t stupid, Audrey. They’ll dig, they’ll investigate. You can’t fake this.”

I stared at the people below, my reflection faint in the glass.

“This is more complicated than I thought,” I whispered.

“We have to act like a happy, in-love couple,” he explained calmly. “Convince them. It’ll buy us time to get to know each other. In case they ask questions.”

I raised a brow at him. “Your family sounds controlling.”

He smirked slightly. “And yours is uncontrollable.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Guess nobody gets it all.” Crossing my arms, I stared at him. “And when we’re married, I’m supposed to live in your house?”

His expression was pure disbelief, like I’d asked the dumbest question ever. “Of course. We’re married, Audrey.”

I picked up the small velvet box on the table, running my fingers over it. “You could have any girl you want. Why, me?”

He shrugged, eyes narrowing slightly. “Something about you is different.”

I felt my cheeks heat up, but forced my face to stay neutral. I kept fiddling with the box. “And work? Are we telling them?”

“No. Nobody at work needs to know. This is between you, me, and my family.” His voice lowered slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’ll have everything you want, as long as you follow my rules.”

I frowned, his last words slicing through whatever softness I was feeling. “Follow you around like a dog?”

“Not a dog, Audrey,” he corrected, his eyes serious now. “But I’m still your boss. There have to be limits, boundaries.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Arranged marriage with my boss. Dream come true.”

I turned toward the door, my decision heavy but clear.

He seemed caught off guard. “You’re turning me down?”

I tossed the small box to him. His reflexes were sharp, hand caught it easily. But when he opened the lid, his eyes widened. The ring was gone.

A rare, genuine smile slowly crept across his face, replacing his usual hard expression.

I held up my hand, showing the silver ring now resting perfectly on my finger.

For the first time, his smile wasn’t cold or calculated. It was real. Warm. Almost proud.

“We’ll get married as soon as possible,” he said, final and sure.

I simply nodded and turned to leave, feeling his eyes burning into my back as I walked away.

I have to get used to that stare, I’ll be seeing it every day once we’re married.

But in the back of my mind, a whisper lingered,

I just hope this won’t destroy me.