Chapter 1 The Ultimatum

The view from the hospital suite window was breathtaking. The London skyline stretched across the horizon, a mixture of grey clouds and glass towers shimmering under a reluctant sun. But Adrian Wolfe wasn't looking at the view. He was staring at the frail man in the hospital bed-his father. Once the fiercest name in international business, Elliott Wolfe now looked like a broken king, his throne reduced to a drip stand and oxygen mask.

"You came late," Elliott rasped, his voice a whisper coated in gravel. "I told Hughes to call you in the morning."

Adrian didn't blink. "I was in Milan. Board meeting."

"That's not an excuse. You were late for your mother's funeral too."

Adrian stiffened. The air grew heavy. The nurse glanced at them and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.

"I didn't come here for a guilt trip, Dad."

Elliott's chuckle turned into a cough. It took him several seconds to recover. When he finally looked up, his eyes were sharp, the only part of him untouched by illness.

"No, you came because I have something you want."

Adrian crossed his arms. "I already own 49% of Wolfe Industries. The rest will be mine by default."

"No." Elliott's voice turned cold. "Not until you meet the final condition."

Adrian's silence was loud.

Elliott leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You must be married before your thirtieth birthday."

Adrian laughed once-sharp, bitter, disbelieving. "Is this a joke?"

"I'm dying," Elliott said simply. "There's no room for jokes. I want to know the company will be led by someone who understands commitment. You've built towers, acquired companies, ruined competitors... but you've never committed to anyone but yourself."

Adrian looked away, jaw clenched.

"You're 29. Your birthday is in thirty days." Elliott's voice softened. "Find a wife. Not just for show. Legally married. Live together. Appear in public. Make it look real. Six months minimum. If you don't, the 51% goes to your cousin Marcus."

Adrian's face turned to stone. "Marcus? That parasite?"

Elliott smirked. "He's married."

"For now."

"Marriage is a risk. So is business. Make it work. Or walk away from the company."

Adrian paced to the window, his hands in his pockets, mind spinning. Marriage wasn't just a commitment-it was chaos. Unpredictable. Emotional. And love? He'd seen what love did to people. It made them weak, blind, reckless. He had no room for that.

But Marcus owning Wolfe Industries? Unthinkable.

Adrian turned. "Fine. I'll get married."

Elliott coughed again but looked satisfied. "You have thirty days. Don't disappoint me."

Adrian walked out of the room without another word, phone already in hand. He dialed Hughes, his father's longtime lawyer.

"Set up a meeting," he said. "I need a contract."

---

Across the city, Clara Evans was scrubbing dried paint off her jeans with a used toothbrush in her cramped studio apartment. The ceiling leaked when it rained. The walls were thin enough to hear her neighbor's romantic dramas, and her electricity was on the brink of being cut-again.

But the worst part wasn't the bills or the noise or the cold. It was the hospital notice on her table.

Leo's dialysis had been postponed. Again. Because she couldn't pay.

Her phone rang. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Miss Evans?" a calm, elegant female voice said. "This is Mrs. Hughes. I represent a private client with an unusual offer. Would you be available to meet tomorrow at 10 a.m.?"

Clara hesitated. "What kind of offer?"

"I can only say it's legal, lucrative, and time-sensitive. You've been vetted for this opportunity. The client specifically requested someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Single. Independent. Discreet."

Clara almost laughed. She was all those things-especially broke.

She checked her bank account: ₦2,421. Her brother's next treatment was ₦2.5 million.

"Where's the meeting?" she asked.

---

The next morning, Clara stepped into the private conference room at the top floor of Hughes & Associates. She wore her best (and only) blazer, a navy one with a missing button. Her stomach growled. She ignored it.

Mrs. Hughes, tall and silver-haired, welcomed her with a nod. "Thank you for coming."

Clara sat. "What's the offer?"

Mrs. Hughes slid a folder across the table. "A legal marriage for a period of six months. In exchange, you will receive ₦10 million-half now, half at the end of the contract."

Clara blinked. "A... marriage?"

"Strictly professional. No intimacy required. You'll attend public functions, live at the client's residence, and behave as a married couple. After six months, the contract ends, and the divorce will be handled quietly."

"Why me?"

"You're not tied to anyone. No criminal record. Your family history suggests financial hardship, but your academic and emotional profiles show resilience. You're ideal."

Clara frowned. "And the groom?"

"He's... intense. You'll meet him shortly. But I must warn you-this is not a fairy tale. It's a job. A contract. Are you interested?"

Clara didn't answer right away. Her brother's face flashed in her mind. The look in his eyes when he said, "Don't worry, Clara. I'll be fine," even though they both knew he wasn't.

"Yes," she said. "I'm interested."

---

Adrian entered the room ten minutes later, dressed in a black suit, sharp as a blade. Clara's breath caught. He was handsome, in a cold, dangerous way-like a sculpture chiseled from arrogance and money.

He looked at her like she was a document he hadn't read yet. Then he sat, buttoned his jacket, and said, "Let's be clear. This is a transaction."

"I already got the memo," Clara replied coolly.

Adrian's brow rose slightly. "No feelings. No sex. No snooping. You'll live in my house, attend a few events, and pretend to love me in public. Can you act?"

"I once pretended ketchup was blood for a student film. I'll manage."

He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Good. The contract is ready. Read it tonight. Sign tomorrow."

Clara stood, gathering the folder. "I'll need a lawyer."

Adrian smirked. "Just don't fall in love, Miss Evans. That's not part of the deal."

She looked him straight in the eye. "Trust me, Mr. Wolfe. You're the last man I'd ever fall for."