THE PROPOSAL

The car glided through Lagos like it existed in a different dimension from the rest of the city.

Outside, traffic was a nightmare of honking horns and aggressive drivers. Inside, everything was quiet, climate-controlled, insulated from reality. Juliet watched the city pass by through tinted windows, feeling like she'd stepped into someone else's life.

They left the chaos of the mainland behind and crossed onto Victoria Island. The buildings grew taller, cleaner. Street lights actually worked here. The potholes disappeared.

This was where the wealthy lived. Where people like Ejike Olatunji built their empires while the rest of Lagos struggled to survive.

The car turned into a gated community. Security guards checked their credentials before waving them through. Inside, the streets were lined with palm trees and mansions that looked like they belonged in a luxury magazine.

They pulled up to a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. House wasn't the right word. It was an estate. Three stories of modern architecture, all glass and steel and sharp angles. Lights glowed from within, warm against the darkening sky.

Chidi opened her door. "This way, Miss Fredrick."

Juliet stepped out onto perfectly manicured grounds. The air even smelled different here. Less exhaust, less sweat. More flowers and fresh-cut grass.

The front door opened before they reached it. Damilola stood there, the muscular bodyguard from the restaurant. Up close, he looked less intimidating. There was something almost friendly in his eyes.

"Miss Fredrick. Thank you for coming." He gestured inside. "Mr. Olatunji is in his study."

Juliet followed him into a foyer that was bigger than her entire apartment. Marble floors reflected the light from a crystal chandelier overhead. Original artwork hung on the walls. Everything screamed wealth and taste.

Her sneakers squeaked against the marble. She was suddenly aware of how she must look. Coffee-stained uniform, hair pulled back in a messy bun, no makeup. She didn't belong in a place like this.

But she lifted her chin and kept walking.

Damilola led her down a hallway and stopped at a heavy wooden door. He knocked twice.

"Come in," Ejike's voice called from inside.

The study was all dark wood and leather. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls. A massive desk dominated the space, and behind it sat Ejike Olatunji.

He'd changed out of his suit into a simple black shirt. Somehow, he looked even more intimidating in casual clothes. Like a predator pretending to be domesticated.

"Miss Fredrick." He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Please, sit."

Juliet sat. The leather chair was more comfortable than her bed at home.

Ejike studied her for a long moment. Those cold eyes took in every detail. She fought the urge to fidget.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked. "Water? Tea?"

"I'm fine. You said you could help my mother."

The corner of his mouth twitched. It might have been a smile on someone else. "Direct. I appreciate that."

"I don't have time for games. My mother needs those tests done by tomorrow, and I'm thirty-three thousand naira short. So either you can help or you can't."

"I can help." He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. "The question is whether you're willing to accept my terms."

There it was. The catch. There was always a catch.

"What terms?" Juliet asked.

"I need a wife."

The words hung in the air between them. Juliet blinked, certain she'd misheard. "Excuse me?"

"I need to get married. Immediately. The arrangement would be temporary and purely business."

This was insane. "Why would you need to get married? You're Ejike Olatunji. You could marry anyone."

"Not anyone I need to trust." He pulled out a folder from his desk drawer and slid it across to her. "Open it."

Juliet opened the folder. Inside were photos, documents, newspaper clippings. She recognized herself in some of the photos. Walking to work. Standing outside her apartment. At the hospital with Nkechi.

Her blood ran cold. "You've been following me."

"Research," Ejike corrected. "I make it a policy to know everything about anyone I do business with."

"We're not doing business. We just met today."

"And in those few minutes, you made an impression." He tapped the folder. "Juliet Fredrick. Twenty-five years old. Works at Quick Bite on the mainland. Lives in a one-bedroom apartment in Surulere with your younger sister, Nkechi. Your mother, Grace Fredrick, has been in and out of hospitals for the past two years with heart problems. You send money to cover her medication every month. You dropped out of university after your first year because you couldn't afford the tuition. You have no criminal record, no debt beyond what you owe your landlord, and no ties to any of Lagos's social circles."

Juliet's hands clenched into fists. "You had no right-"

"I had every right. This is business, Miss Fredrick. And in business, information is everything." He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "You're perfect for what I need."

"Which is?"

"My board of directors has given me an ultimatum. Either I get married and prove I can maintain a stable personal life, or they'll vote to remove me as CEO of my own company."

Juliet stared at him. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Agreed. But it's the reality I'm facing." His jaw tightened. "I built Olatunji Technologies from nothing. I'm not going to lose it because a group of old men decided I need a wife to appear more trustworthy."

"So marry someone. Why me?"

"Because everyone in my circle has an agenda. Every woman I've dated has been vetted, coached, positioned by families looking to gain access to my wealth. Every socialite in Lagos would see a marriage to me as a stepping stone to power." He gestured to the folder. "You're different. You have nothing to gain except money, and that makes you trustworthy."

"How does that make me trustworthy?"

"Because your motivation is clear. You need money for your mother's medical care. I need a wife to satisfy my board. We can help each other."

Juliet's mind raced. This couldn't be real. People didn't actually do things like this. "You're talking about a fake marriage."

"A real marriage, legally. But yes, temporary and contractual. One year. You'll live here, attend events as my wife, and maintain the appearance of a stable relationship. In return, I'll cover all of your mother's medical expenses. Current and future. I'll also pay you five million naira per month for the duration of the contract."

Five million naira per month. Juliet's mouth went dry. That was sixty million naira over the course of a year. More money than she could comprehend.

"Why a year?" she asked.

"Long enough to satisfy the board that I'm serious about stability. Short enough that the divorce won't raise too many questions."

"And after the year?"

"We divorce quietly. You get your money and your freedom. I keep my company."

It sounded too good to be true. Which meant it probably was.

"What's the real reason you're doing this?" Juliet asked. "There has to be more to it than just satisfying your board."

Something flickered across Ejike's face. Respect, maybe. "Smart question. The truth is my board isn't just concerned about my personal life. They think I'm too ruthless, too isolated. They want me to appear more human. More relatable."

"So I'm supposed to make you look human?"

"You're supposed to make me look stable. Grounded. Like a man who can be trusted with long-term vision, not just quarterly profits."

Juliet looked down at the folder again. At the photos of herself living her small, struggling life. "And if I say no?"

"Then you walk out that door, and we never speak again. Your mother will stay in that hospital observation room until tomorrow, and then she'll be discharged. You'll go back to your life, and I'll find another solution to my problem."

He said it without malice. Just facts. The world was brutal, and he was simply acknowledging it.

"I need time to think," Juliet said.

"You have until eight o'clock tonight. That gives you approximately ninety minutes." Ejike glanced at his watch. "If you agree, I'll have my lawyers draw up a contract. We'll sign it tomorrow, and your mother's tests will be paid for by tomorrow afternoon. If you decline, Chidi will drive you back to the hospital."

Ninety minutes to make a decision that would change her entire life.

Juliet stood. "Can I walk around? I think better when I move."

"Dami will show you the grounds." Ejike returned his attention to his computer, dismissing her. "He'll bring you back when you're ready."

Damilola was waiting outside the study. He led her through the house and out to a terrace overlooking the pool. The water glowed blue in the darkness, perfectly still.

"This is crazy, right?" Juliet said. "Tell me this is crazy."

Dami leaned against the railing. "It's definitely unusual."

"That's not the same as crazy."

"Boss doesn't do things without a reason. If he thinks this will work, it probably will."

"But getting married? To a stranger?"

"You wouldn't be the first person to marry for money. At least he's being honest about it."

Juliet laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Just trying to give you perspective." Dami studied her. "For what it's worth, I've known Ejike since we were kids. He's cold, yeah. Ruthless in business. But he keeps his word. If he says he'll take care of your mother's medical expenses, he will."

"And after the year?"

"After the year, you'll have sixty million naira and freedom. Most people would kill for that deal."

Most people hadn't been raised by a single mother who'd taught them that dignity mattered more than money. Most people hadn't watched their mother work herself to death just to keep food on the table.

But most people's mothers weren't lying in a hospital bed, waiting for tests they couldn't afford.

Juliet pulled out her phone and called Nkechi.

"Jules? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. How's Mama?"

"The same. They moved her to the observation area. Jules, what's going on? Whose car picked you up?"

"I need to ask you something." Juliet took a deep breath. "If I could get the money for Mama's treatment, all of it, but I had to do something you might not approve of, would you want me to do it?"

Silence on the other end. Then, "What are you talking about?"

"Just answer the question."

"Jules, you're scaring me."

"Would you want me to do it?"

Another pause. "I'd want you to do whatever keeps you safe. Mama would say the same thing."

"That's not an answer."

"Because it's not a fair question." Nkechi's voice cracked. "Whatever you're thinking of doing, just come home. We'll figure something else out."

But there was nothing else to figure out. Juliet had already exhausted every option.

"I love you," Juliet said. "Remember that."

She ended the call before Nkechi could respond.

Dami was watching her with something like sympathy. "You don't have to do this. There are other ways to get money."

"Name one that doesn't involve crime or degrading myself."

He couldn't.

Juliet looked back at the house. Through the windows, she could see Ejike in his study, still working. A man so wealthy that sixty million naira was pocket change to him. A man who could solve all her problems with a signature on a contract.

All she had to do was sell a year of her life.

She thought about her mother. About Nkechi. About all the nights she'd gone to bed hungry so they could eat. About dropping out of university, giving up her dreams, working herself into exhaustion just to survive.

She was tired of barely surviving.

"Take me back to the study," Juliet said.

Dami led her inside. Ejike looked up when they entered, his expression unreadable.

"I'll do it," Juliet said. "But I have conditions."

"Name them."

"My sister stays in school. You'll pay her tuition through graduation."

"Agreed."

"And I want it in writing that after the year is up, you leave me and my family alone. No more following us. No more research. We go our separate ways."

"Reasonable." Ejike stood and extended his hand. "Do we have a deal, Miss Fredrick?"

Juliet looked at his hand. Once she shook it, there was no going back. She'd be Ejike Olatunji's wife. She'd be living in this house, playing this role, pretending to be someone she wasn't.

But her mother would live. Nkechi would finish school. And in a year, she'd have enough money to build a real life.

She took his hand. His grip was firm, warm, utterly confident.

"We have a deal," she said.

Ejike's lips curved into something that almost resembled a smile. "Welcome to the family, Juliet."