The Tycoon’s 90-Day Marriage Trap

— Allison Smith —

“He’s the one, Allison! The absolute end of your problems! And you are not going to ruin this blind date with that sullen attitude of yours!” My mother, Carol, was ecstatic. She was waving a laminated photo of Oliver Chad, the billionaire tycoon, like it was a winning lottery ticket.

My problems had an elegant name: Marcus. My ex-fiancé had spent two years manipulating my father’s company, driving it into ruin, and then skipped town with a fat severance package, leaving my family bankrupt and facing a ruined reputation. We hadn't just lost our money; we had lost our dignity.

I stared at the picture of Oliver Chad. Dark hair, eyes that looked like they could sign a billion-dollar merger or break a thousand hearts. He was cold, powerful, and utterly out of my league. But that was exactly the point.

My initial plan was simple: get stable, work quietly, and wait for the legal system to catch Marcus. But the legal system was slow, and Marcus had hidden his tracks well.

I had spent weeks following the paper trail. Every road led to a complex shell corporation, and every complex shell corporation led back to the same sphere of influence: the top corporate lawyers in the city. The one name that kept coming up, the one with the reputation for ruthless, surgical financial takedowns, was Oliver Chad.

I didn't know if Oliver was the architect, the financier, or the unwitting shield, but he was the key. He was the most dangerous man in the city, and now my mother—bless her desperate heart—was handing me the key to his front door.

I finally looked up at my mother and smiled, a smile that felt sharp and entirely fake. “You’re right, Mom. He’s perfect. Send me the details. I’ll go.”

My mother nearly collapsed in surprise. She had no idea that I wasn't looking for a husband; I was looking for a weapon and a target.

My revenge mission had just received an upgrade.

The restaurant was one of those places where the lighting was dim and the prices were astronomical. I was wearing the only expensive dress I owned, a simple black sheath that felt like a costume.

I spotted him immediately. Oliver Chad was sitting alone, looking impatient, checking his watch with a visible frown. He didn't look like a man waiting for a date; he looked like a CEO waiting for an urgent financial report.

I walked over, feeling the stark difference between my small, fragile world and his vast, impregnable one.

“Mr. Chad?”

He glanced up, and his cold, blue-gray eyes assessed me in a quick, dismissive flash. “Allison Smith,” he stated, his voice a low, commanding rumble. “Please, sit. Let’s not waste time. are forcing me into a marriage to finalize a crucial corporate merger. I am here under duress. I require a wife who will be silent, compliant, and temporary.”

His arrogance was a gift. It was exactly what I needed, a cold transactional partnership.

“Temporary?” I asked, leaning forward on the pristine white tablecloth.

He sighed, pushing a hand through his dark, tailored hair. “The merger needs a wife finalized by the end of the fiscal quarter. Ninety days. If I fail, I lose control of my personal investment firm to my father. I need someone who understands that this is a business arrangement with a definitive expiration date. No tears, no claims on my assets.”

The number ninety days hit me like a revelation. That was the exact timeline I needed to gather evidence, execute my plan, and finally clear my family's name before Marcus disappeared forever. The coincidence was too perfect.

I looked at him, letting all my rage and determination harden my expression.

“I have my own deadline, Mr. Chad,” I stated calmly. “I need a husband for exactly ninety days.”

He paused, setting down his wine glass. His calculated intrigue replaced the initial boredom. “And why 90 days?”

“Because that is the precise amount of time I need to secure my own interests before I move on with my life.” I kept the details vague. “I need access, I need a safe environment, and I need a name, a name powerful enough to stop petty threats from my past. You get your merger, and you get your money back when the term is up.”

He studied me, those sharp eyes searching for the lie. He found no desperation, only unwavering resolve.

“I won’t claim your assets, Oliver,” I continued, using his first name for the first time. “And I won’t ask for an extension. I want a massive, fixed, one-time payout when the contract ends enough to start my life over. And the marriage must look absolutely real to your parents and the public.”

He seemed to weigh my words against his corporate risk. A woman who only wanted a clean, guaranteed exit and demanded no extension was less risky than any social climber he could find.

Oliver finally smiled, a slight, predatory curve of his lips that made my stomach clench.

“You’re a clever woman, Allison Smith. You’re asking for a marriage license and an ironclad contract, not a declaration of love.” He pulled a sleek leather notepad from his suit jacket. “Tell me the rules. Let’s draft the terms of the trap.”

Two hours later, we had the basics outlined. Oliver's lawyers would finalize the contract overnight.

Rule one, public display, we are madly in love. We must maintain an image of absolute devotion to secure his merger.

Rule two, privately, we are roommates. Separate bedrooms, zero affection, and absolutely no physical intimacy.

Rule three was mine, the contract is fixed, ninety days. No renegotiation.

Rule four still his, Any breach of the contract by Allison such as embarrassing his company or speaking to the press will results in total financial ruin for her.

He walked me to the elevator, his face stern. “You will move into the penthouse tomorrow evening. We start preparing for the Chad family dinner party immediately. I won’t tolerate any surprises.”

"I won't surprise you, Oliver," I lied, looking up at the cold, beautiful man who I was about to use as my personal shield while I hunted for the evidence that linked him to my family’s destruction.

"Good," he stated, his voice final. He touched my shoulder, a sudden, firm gesture that was part warning, part possession. "Because I always win, Allison. And you, Mrs. Chad, are now on my team."

I walked out into the cold night air, the truth a bitter taste on my tongue. He thought I was on his team. He had no idea that I was already behind enemy lines, wearing the guise of his devoted wife, preparing to dismantle his empire piece by piece.