THE CEO'S MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

The kitchen of Jessica's family fried chicken restaurant roared with sizzling oil, the crackling sound almost loud enough to drown out her father's voice. Almost.

"Jessica! Another order for table five! Hurry!"

"I'm on it, Dad!" Jessica Robert yelled back, balancing three baskets of golden-brown chicken wings on her arm. The familiar smell of fried batter and garlic-soy glaze clung to her hair and clothes. She set the trays down on the serving counter, wiped her hands on her apron, and brushed the sweat off her forehead.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Once. Twice. Then a stream of impatient vibrations, as though the device itself were panicking.

Jessica ignored it, reaching for a stack of napkins.

"jessica," her mother's voice came from behind, exasperated, "if you don't answer that thing, I'll throw it into the fryer!"

Rolling her eyes, Jessica snatched her phone. "Hello?"

"Jessica! You have to save me!" came Sophia Wilson's frantic voice.

Jessica groaned. "What is it this time? Please tell me you didn't lock yourself in the tanning booth again."

"This is serious!" Sophia wailed. "My father set me up on a blind date tonight. With some rich jerk. He says if I don't show up, I'll regret it. I can't go!"

"So cancel."

"I tried! He's sending a driver. He'll probably drag me there himself."

Jessica shook her head, already sensing where this was going. "No. Absolutely not. Don't even think about asking-"

"Please, Jessica! Just go as me. Pretend to be me for one night. Make him hate me. I'll owe you forever!"

"I'm not a magician! And what if this guy is a complete psycho?"

"Then you'll never have to see him again. Perfect outcome!"

Jessica pressed her palm against her forehead. This was ridiculous. Her friend always dragged her into schemes, but this... this was outrageous.

"Jessica," Sophia's voice softened into her most dangerous weapon: pleading sweetness. "Remember that karaoke night when your ex showed up drunk? Who pulled you out the back door in four-inch heels? Who lied to his face and told him you'd joined a convent?"

"Ugh." Jessica squeezed her eyes shut. "Fine! But if I get fired, you're paying my rent."

"You're the best!" Young-seo squealed. "Driver's on the way. Wear something nice!"

The line clicked dead.

Jessica stared at her phone in despair. "I'm doomed."

Two hours later, Jessica sat before a glittering vanity in Sophia's bedroom. Everything about the room screamed wealth-plush carpet, designer shoes lined like soldiers, a perfume collection worth more than Jessica's monthly rent.

And then there was Jessica's reflection.

Her familiar, bare face was gone. In its place: flawless foundation, smoky eyeliner, rosy lips. Her hair fell in sleek waves around her shoulders.

"Do I really need all this makeup?" she muttered.

Sophia circled her like a stylist before a runway show. "Yes. You're me tonight. Which means elegant, poised, irresistible."

"Or insane," Jessica corrected. "The goal is to scare him off, right?"

"Exactly!" Sophia grinned. She pulled a dress from her closet, a shimmering midnight-blue slip that Ha-ri would never have dared to buy. "Here. Try this."

Jessica wriggled into it, tugging nervously at the hem. The fabric clung to her in a way that made her blush.

"Too much," she whispered.

"Perfect," Jessica countered, fastening a diamond necklace around her neck. "Just say something weird, like you collect voodoo dolls or you believe in alien boyfriends. Easy."

Jessica scowled. "Easy for you to say. You were born looking like a magazine cover. I... I look like a chicken delivery girl in borrowed clothes."

Sophia placed her hands firmly on Jessica's shoulders. "You look stunning. Trust me."

Jessica sighed, clutching the glittering clutch her friend shoved at her. "If I crash and burn, I'm haunting you."

"You'll thank me later."

But as the driver pulled up outside in a sleek black car, Jessica had a sinking feeling she'd regret this forever.

The hotel restaurant was the kind of place Jessica had only seen in dramas. Chandeliers spilled golden light across tables draped in white linen. Waiters glided like dancers, balancing trays of wine glasses.

Her heels clicked nervously against polished marble as she followed the hostess toward a private booth at the far end. Her clutch felt like a fragile shield, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Just act weird. Eat, drink, be unlikable. He'll run. Easy.

Then she saw him.

The man was already seated, posture perfect, navy suit hugging his tall frame. Even before he looked up, she felt his presence. Powerful. Intimidating.

When his gaze lifted, her breath hitched.

He was gorgeous. Devastatingly, terrifyingly gorgeous. Sharp jawline, dark eyes that seemed to strip away pretenses, lips pressed into a cool line.

"Miss Sophia Wilson?" His voice was low, controlled, with the faintest edge of boredom.

Jessica forced a too-bright smile and slid into the seat across from him. "That's me. The one and only."

His gaze lingered, assessing, as though he could see through her disguise. Her palms grew slick against her clutch.

He's just another rich heir. Spoiled and arrogant. I can do this.

The waiter poured wine. Jessica snatched her glass and gulped half of it in one go.

The man's eyebrow rose. "Thirsty?"

"Very," she shot back, forcing a smirk. "I hate small talk. Let's skip to the fun part.

Jessica swirling her wine glass dramatically, trying to look like the kind of woman who didn't care about anything. Sophia had told her to be obnoxious, to say something outrageous, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"So," she said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, "do you believe in past lives?"

The man across from her didn't flinch. "No."

"Well, I do." She tapped her finger against the table. "In my past life, I was probably a queen. Or maybe a tiger. Definitely not someone who wastes time on blind dates."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but not into a smile. He set his glass down with quiet precision. "Fascinating."

She panicked. He wasn't reacting the way she wanted. Instead of disgust, he looked... amused? Or worse, interested.

So she doubled down.

"I should warn you," she said brightly, "I snore. Loudly. And I kick in my sleep. Once I even knocked my cousin off the bed."

The man's brows arched. Still no sign of irritation.

"Also," she added quickly, "I collect horror movie dolls. Chucky, Annabelle, all the classics. They sit around my bed and watch me while I sleep."

A beat of silence passed. Then, to her shock, he chuckled. A low, warm sound that did dangerous things to her chest.

"You're... not like what I expected," he said.

Jessica blinked. This was not the plan. He was supposed to bolt, not laugh.

She gulped the rest of her wine in frustration.

Dinner arrived-an artful arrangement of steak and truffle sauce. Jessica eyed it nervously. This was not fried chicken. This was not food you ate with your fingers.

She picked up the silverware awkwardly, then decided to commit to her sabotage. She cut into the steak with exaggerated force, nearly sending it flying off the plate.

"Mmm," she said loudly, chewing with her mouth open. "So good. Almost as good as my favorite chicken feet place. Have you tried it? Sticky, spicy, chewy. You'd love it."

For the first time, the man's calm demeanor cracked. His brow furrowed.

"Chicken feet," he repeated slowly.

"Yes! With extra chili powder. Makes your lips swell." She puckered her lips in demonstration, nearly choking on a laugh.

The waiter passed by, startled by her volume. Jessica waved cheerfully. "Another bottle of wine, please! The expensive one. This guy's paying, right?"

The man's expression darkened-finally! Maybe she was succeeding.

"Do you always drink this much?" he asked.

"Only when I'm nervous," she blurted, then froze. That was too honest. She quickly recovered. "I mean-only when I'm with boring men. Like you."

Silence fell. Her heart thumped painfully. She might have gone too far.

But then, instead of storming out, he leaned back in his chair, studying her with unreadable eyes.

"You're... interesting," he murmured.

"Interesting?" she echoed weakly.

"Different from every woman I've met."

Her stomach flipped. This was all wrong. He was supposed to hate her. Not-whatever this was.

Jessica stuffed another too-large bite of steak into her mouth to avoid answering.

After dinner, they walked through the hotel lobby, marble floors gleaming under golden light. Jessica's heels wobbled dangerously with every step, and she clutched her clutch like a lifeline.

"Miss Sophia," the man said suddenly, his tone sharper now. "Why did you agree to this blind date?"

Her heart seized. For a split second, she forgot she was pretending. She thought of her tiny apartment above the restaurant, of overdue bills, of her life built on hard work and small dreams.

Then she forced a laugh. "Why else? My father insisted, of course. He wants me married off before I turn into an old maid."

The man's gaze flickered, as though testing her words. She avoided his eyes.

At the entrance, his driver pulled up in a sleek black car. The man gestured politely. "Allow me to take you home."

Jessica's panic flared. If he drove her home, he'd see she wasn't Sophia Wilson. He'd see the fried chicken restaurant, her parents, the truth.

"Oh no!" she said quickly. "I-I actually have another date. With someone else. A hotter guy. Much richer, too."

For the first time all evening, the man's mask cracked fully. His eyes narrowed, sharp with something like annoyance.

"Another date," he repeated flatly.

"Yes," Jessica said, nodding furiously. "So you see, this was fun, but... bye!"

She spun on her heel, nearly tripping, and fled into the night, heart pounding like a drum.

Behind her, Ethan Maverick-the man she didn't realize was her company's new president-watched her go, his lips curving into the faintest, most dangerous of smiles.

jessica woke the next morning with her head buried under a pillow, groaning at the memory of last night.

"What was I thinking?" she mumbled into the sheets. "Chicken feet? Horror dolls? Another date with a hotter guy?!"

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling of her tiny studio apartment. The sound of traffic buzzed outside, mingling with the faint smell of fried chicken wafting up from the restaurant below.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Sophia.

Sophia: How did it go? Did you scare him off?

Jessica groaned louder. "I don't even know! He didn't storm out. He laughed at me. Laughed!"

Jessica: Your plan failed. He's... weird.

A reply came almost instantly.

Sophia: Weird how?

Jessica sat up, fingers flying across the screen.

Jessica: He didn't get mad when I was rude. He actually smiled. I think he liked it.

There was a long pause before Sophia replied.

Sophia: Uh oh.

"Uh oh? What do you mean, 'uh oh'?!" Jessica shouted at her phone.

But before she could demand clarification, her alarm blared, reminding her she had to rush to work. At Go Food. At the company where she was a researcher.

The company whose brand-new CEO she had just mocked, insulted, and abandoned at a hotel lobby.

Of course, she didn't know that. Yet.

The Go Food headquarters buzzed with tension that morning. Employees whispered in corners, straightened their ties, and adjusted their blouses as though preparing for judgment day.

"The new CEO is here," someone whispered near Jessica's desk. "He's in his office right now."

"I heard he studied abroad in the U.S.," another said. "And he's young. Ruthless, too."

Jessica tried to focus on her research reports, but her nerves buzzed. She had stayed out late, drunk too much wine, and now her head pounded. The last thing she needed was a demanding new boss breathing down her neck.

Then the elevator chimed.

All heads turned.

Ethan Maverick stepped out, tall and sharp in a tailored suit, exuding authority with every stride. His assistant, Rian Johnson, followed close behind, holding a stack of files.

Jessica 's pen froze in her hand. Her stomach plummeted.

It was him.

The blind date. The man she'd tried to scare off.

She nearly choked on her own breath, ducking her head behind her monitor. No way. No, no, no way. This is a nightmare.

"Good morning, everyone," Jessica said, his voice calm but commanding. "I'll be meeting each department this week. I expect efficiency."

His gaze swept the room like a searchlight. Jessica shrank lower in her chair, praying he wouldn't notice her.

But his eyes didn't linger. He passed by without a flicker of recognition.

Jessica let out a shaky sigh of relief. Maybe-just maybe-he hadn't recognized her under the harsh office lighting.

But then, as Ethan disappeared into his office, his lips curled into the faintest smirk.

He had recognized her. And he wasn't going to let her off so easily.

Inside his office, Ethan stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the skyline. Rian placed a folder on his desk.

"You really intend to go through with this?" Rian asked carefully.

"Yes," Ethan said without hesitation. "I'm going to marry her."

Rian blinked. "Miss Sophia Wilson?"

Ethan's jaw tightened slightly. "That's who she claims to be. Regardless, she's the one."

Rian frowned. "You've only met her once. And you've already decided to marry?"

"I don't have time to waste," Ethan replied curtly. "My grandfather won't stop arranging blind dates until I settle down. If I marry her, the problem is solved. She's unpredictable, different from the others. She won't bore me."

Rian studied his boss quietly. "You seemed... entertained by her."

A faint smile touched Ethan's lips. "Exactly. She's the first woman who hasn't tried to impress me. In fact, she did the opposite. That alone makes her useful."

"Useful," Rian repeated with a sigh. "Does she know about this plan?"

"She will."

Ethan turned back to the window, eyes glinting with resolve. He had made up his mind. And when Ethan Maverick made a decision, nothing stopped him.

Later that afternoon, Jessica was in the cafeteria with her coworkers, poking at her lunch tray nervously. She kept her head down, praying she wouldn't run into Ethan again.

"Have you seen him up close?" one colleague whispered. "He's so handsome it's scary."

"Handsome? He's terrifying! He doesn't even blink!"

Jessica forced a laugh, though her stomach was still in knots. If anyone found out what she had done last night, she'd be doomed.

"Excuse me."

The cafeteria fell silent.

Jessica froze. That voice. That unmistakable deep, commanding voice.

She looked up slowly, dreading what she'd see.

Ethan stood there, perfectly composed, his gaze locked on her. Around them, coworkers gawked, whispering furiously.

"You," he said simply.

Her chopsticks slipped from her fingers, clattering onto her tray. "M-me?"

"Yes." He didn't break eye contact. "Let's talk."

He walked away, not waiting to see if she followed. The entire cafeteria stared at her in stunned silence.

Heart pounding, legs trembling, Jessica forced herself to stand and follow him out.

They ended up in a quiet corridor. Jessica turned, expression unreadable.

"Miss Sophia Wilson," he said smoothly, though his eyes gleamed with hidden amusement, "I'll be direct. Let's get married."

The world tilted. Jessica's mouth fell open.

"M-married?!" she squeaked.

Ethan's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Yes. You'll be my wife."

Jessica's vision swam. Her plan to scare him off had backfired spectacularly.

And thus began the disaster of her life.