THE CONTRACT

Juliet barely slept that night.

She lay in her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling while Rashida snored softly in the other corner of their shared room. The events of the evening played on repeat in her mind. The handshake. The look in Ejike's eyes. The weight of the decision she'd made.

At six in the morning, she gave up on sleep and got ready for work. Her shift at Quick Bite started at seven.

Her phone buzzed as she was brushing her teeth. A text from an unknown number: Car will pick you up at 9 AM. Bring your identification documents. - Dami

Right. The contract signing. She'd almost convinced herself it had all been a dream.

Juliet texted back: I have work.

The response came immediately: Not anymore. Boss already handled it.

She stared at the message. Ejike had gotten her fired? No, that didn't make sense. He'd probably paid off her manager or something. Rich people could do things like that.

Rashida stirred in her bed. "Jules? You okay?"

"Yeah. Just got a text."

"From who?" Rashida sat up, rubbing her eyes. "It's not even six thirty."

Juliet hesitated. She hadn't told Rashida about the contract yet. How did you explain that you were marrying a billionaire you'd just met?

"I need to tell you something," Juliet said. "And you're going to think I've lost my mind."

Twenty minutes later, Rashida was pacing their tiny apartment, hands gesturing wildly.

"You're marrying Ejike Olatunji. Ejike. Olatunji." She stopped pacing and stared at Juliet. "The man who owns half of Lagos. The man who could buy our entire neighborhood with his pocket change."

"I know who he is."

"Do you? Because it sounds like you've agreed to marry a complete stranger for money. That's not marriage, Jules. That's prostitution with extra steps."

The word hit like a slap. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like? Explain it to me in a way that makes sense."

Juliet took a deep breath. "It's a business arrangement. One year. I play the role of his wife, and in return, he pays for Mama's medical care and gives me five million naira every month. After the year is up, we divorce and go our separate ways."

"Five million a month?" Rashida's eyes went wide. "That's sixty million total."

"I know."

"Jules, people don't just give away that kind of money. What does he really want?"

"I told you. He needs to appear stable for his board of directors. A wife makes him look grounded."

"And you believe that?"

"I don't have the luxury of not believing it. Mama needs those tests. Nkechi needs to finish school. This solves everything."

Rashida sat down on her bed, her anger deflating into worry. "What if he's dangerous? What if this is all some kind of trap?"

"Then I'll deal with it. But right now, I have to try."

"You're going to live with him? In his house?"

"That's part of the arrangement."

"So I'm losing my roommate and my best friend in one day."

Juliet moved to sit beside her. "You're not losing me. I'll still be here. Just in a different location."

"In a mansion on Victoria Island. Might as well be a different planet." Rashida's voice cracked. "I'm happy for you, I am. But I'm also terrified."

"Me too."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Rashida pulled her into a hug.

"If he hurts you, I don't care how rich he is. I'll find a way to make him pay."

Juliet smiled despite herself. "Deal."

At nine o'clock sharp, a black Mercedes pulled up outside the apartment building. This time it wasn't Chidi driving. A woman in her forties emerged from the driver's seat, wearing a crisp pantsuit and an expression that said she didn't suffer fools.

"Miss Fredrick? I'm Adunni, Mr. Olatunji's personal assistant. I'll be driving you to the legal offices this morning."

Juliet grabbed her bag with her documents inside. "Just give me a second."

She went back inside to say goodbye to Rashida, who was watching from the window.

"This is really happening," Rashida said.

"Yeah. It is."

"Call me later?"

"I promise."

The drive to the legal offices took forty minutes through morning traffic. Adunni didn't make small talk, which Juliet appreciated. She was too nervous to maintain a conversation anyway.

The law firm was in a high-rise on Victoria Island. Everything was glass and marble and expensive-looking art. A receptionist directed them to the top floor, where they were met by a lawyer who looked like he charged more per hour than Juliet made in a month.

"Miss Fredrick, welcome. I'm Barrister Osas. Mr. Olatunji is waiting in the conference room."

The conference room had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lagos. The city sprawled below, a mix of gleaming towers and crowded neighborhoods. From up here, it all looked small.

Ejike sat at the head of a long table, laptop open in front of him. He was dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, this one charcoal gray. He looked up when she entered.

"Juliet. Please, sit."

She took a seat across from him. The leather chair was more comfortable than it had any right to be.

Barrister Osas placed a thick document in front of her. "This is the marriage contract. I'll walk you through each section, but feel free to ask questions at any time."

The contract was written in dense legal language that made her head hurt. But as the lawyer explained each clause, the reality of what she was agreeing to became crystal clear.

She would live in Ejike's primary residence for the duration of the contract. She would attend all social functions as his wife. She would maintain the appearance of a stable, loving marriage in public. She would not discuss the contractual nature of the marriage with anyone outside of those already aware.

In return, Ejike would pay all of her mother's medical expenses with no cap. He would pay Nkechi's university tuition through graduation. He would deposit five million naira into Juliet's personal account on the first of every month. At the end of the year, they would divorce quietly, and Juliet would receive a severance payment of an additional ten million naira.

There were clauses about infidelity (neither party was permitted to engage in romantic relationships with others during the contract period), about media relations (all press inquiries would be handled by Ejike's team), about termination (either party could end the contract early, but penalties would apply).

"What kind of penalties?" Juliet asked.

"If you terminate early, you forfeit all future payments and must return fifty percent of what you've already received," Barrister Osas explained. "If Mr. Olatunji terminates early, you keep everything you've received and he pays an additional penalty of twenty million naira."

Juliet looked at Ejike. "Why would you agree to that?"

"Because I don't plan on terminating early," he said simply. "And the penalty ensures you take this seriously."

"I'm taking it seriously. I'm signing away a year of my life."

"Then we're both making sacrifices." His eyes held hers. "Any other questions?"

She flipped through the pages, trying to find something wrong, some hidden trap. But everything seemed straightforward. Almost too straightforward.

"What about my personal freedom?" she asked. "Can I still see my friends? My family?"

"Of course. You're not a prisoner. You're my wife." The word sounded strange coming from his mouth. "The only restriction is that you can't discuss the contractual nature of our arrangement."

"So I have to lie to everyone."

"You have to maintain the illusion. There's a difference."

Juliet wasn't sure there was, but she didn't argue.

"There's one more thing," Ejike said. He pulled out a small velvet box and slid it across the table.

She opened it. Inside was a ring. Not flashy or ostentatious, but clearly expensive. A single diamond set in platinum, simple and elegant.

"You'll need to wear this in public," Ejike said. "It's sized for you."

"How do you know my ring size?"

"I have my methods."

Of course he did. The man who'd researched her entire life had probably measured her ring finger from a photograph.

Juliet closed the box. "Anything else I should know?"

"We're getting married tomorrow."

She nearly choked. "Tomorrow? As in, twenty-four hours from now?"

"The registry has an opening at two o'clock. We'll sign the paperwork, make it official, and then we'll have a small private ceremony at my home in the evening for appearance's sake."

"That's not enough time to prepare."

"I've already arranged everything. All you need to do is show up." He paused. "Unless you're getting cold feet?"

Was she? Part of her wanted to run out of this office and never look back. But a larger part, the practical part that had kept her family alive for years, knew this was her only option.

"I'm not getting cold feet," she said. "I'm just adjusting to the pace."

"The pace will only get faster. My life doesn't slow down for anyone." It wasn't a warning, just a statement of fact.

Barrister Osas cleared his throat. "If there are no further questions, I'll need both of you to sign."

He indicated several pages marked with colored tabs. Juliet picked up the pen and stared at the signature line.

This was it. Once she signed, there was no going back.

She thought about her mother. About Nkechi. About the life she could build with sixty million naira.

Juliet signed her name.

Ejike signed his a moment later, his handwriting sharp and precise. Barrister Osas witnessed both signatures and placed the contract in a folder.

"Congratulations," he said. "The agreement is now binding."

Ejike stood and extended his hand. "Welcome to my world, Juliet."

She shook his hand, feeling the same strange electricity she'd felt the first time. "I hope I survive it."

"You will. You're stronger than you think." He released her hand and turned to Adunni, who'd been standing quietly by the door. "Take Juliet shopping. She'll need appropriate clothing for tomorrow and for the events we'll be attending."

"Wait," Juliet said. "I need to go to the hospital. I need to see my mother and tell her the tests are covered."

"Already done. The hospital received payment this morning. Your mother's tests are scheduled for this afternoon."

Relief washed over her so intensely she had to sit back down. "Thank you."

"It's part of our agreement. No need to thank me." But something in his expression softened, just slightly. "You should call your sister. Let her know your mother is being taken care of."

Juliet pulled out her phone with shaking hands and dialed Nkechi. Her sister answered on the first ring.

"Jules? What's happening? The hospital just called and said Mama's tests are paid for. All of them. They're moving her to a private room and everything."

"I know. I took care of it."

"How? That's over a hundred thousand naira worth of tests and treatment."

"I'll explain later. Just stay with Mama, okay? Make sure she's comfortable."

"Jules, you're scaring me. What did you do?"

"Something crazy. Something that's going to change everything." Juliet looked at Ejike, who was watching her with those unreadable eyes. "But it's going to be okay. I promise."

She ended the call before Nkechi could ask more questions.

Adunni stepped forward. "Miss Fredrick, we should go. We have a lot to do before tomorrow."

Juliet stood, her legs feeling unsteady. Everything was moving so fast. Yesterday she'd been a fast food worker with no prospects. Today she was engaged to the richest man in Africa. Tomorrow she'd be his wife.

"One question," she said to Ejike. "Why are you really doing this? And don't tell me it's just about your board. There's something else."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "My parents had an arranged marriage. They hated each other. Made each other miserable for thirty years before my father finally died. I swore I'd never trap myself like that." His jaw tightened. "This way, I get the appearance of stability without the emotional entanglement. Clean. Simple. Temporary."

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard."

"Maybe. But it's honest." He turned back to his laptop, dismissing her. "I'll see you tomorrow at the registry."

Adunni led her out of the conference room and into the elevator. As the doors closed, Juliet caught one last glimpse of Ejike through the glass walls. He was alone at that long table, surrounded by papers and screens, looking exactly like what he was.

A man who'd built an empire but forgotten how to be human.

Tomorrow, she would become his wife.

God help them both.