Sarah arrived early, as usual. She walked past the sleek glass doors of Benson Industries with calm steps, coffee in one hand and her tablet in the other. But inside, her nerves were on fire.

She’d barely reached her desk when she heard raised voices coming from the executive boardroom. She froze, head tilting slightly. “If this leaks now, we lose the merger!” a man snapped. Sarah didn’t move. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she wasn’t typing. “It’s already leaking,” a woman replied sharply. “Tabloids are whispering it. That Charles had something to do with his father’s death.” Sarah’s chest tightened. She shifted slightly in her chair to listen better. “That story died ten years ago,” Charles’s voice growled. “Not deep enough,” the woman shot back. “And now it’s surfacing right before your biggest merger.” Footsteps paced. “The Kyoto investors are watching. They’re nervous. They want to see stability.” “So I do what—issue a press statement?” “No. You need a wife.” There was silence.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “A stable image,” the woman continued. “Someone beside you. Someone who makes you look grounded. Settled. Not dangerous.” “I’m not faking a relationship for investors.” “You don’t even have a relationship to fake.” There was another pause.

“A short-term marriage,” she said. “Twelve months. Just long enough to close the Kyoto deal. Then a quiet divorce. Clean, controlled.” “I’m not dragging someone into my life for a performance,” Charles snapped. “Then watch the media drag your name instead.” The boardroom door opened.

Sarah spun toward her screen, pretending to read an email. The woman walked out, lips pressed tight. Charles followed, eyes scanning the floor until they landed on Sarah. “You heard that right?” he asked. She didn’t pretend. “Yes.” Charles’s jaw flexed. He didn’t say anything else. Just walked past her into his office.

Sarah stared after him. Her mind spun with possibilities. She stood, then walked to his door, and knocked once. “Come in.” She stepped inside, heart pounding. “I have a solution.” Charles raised an eyebrow. He stood near the window, a glass of water in hand. “You need a wife,” she said calmly. “I need visibility. Let’s help each other.” He tilted his head. “Excuse me?” “One year. Legal contract. No strings. I play the perfect wife in public. You get your merger. I get power, connections, a story that puts me on the map.” Charles gave a short laugh. “So you want to marry me for branding?” “I want to marry you because it makes sense. You don’t scare me. I can handle the pressure. We sign a prenup. No intimacy. No drama.” “You’re serious.” “One hundred percent.”

He took a slow sip of water, watching her. “You don’t think this is insane?” “I think it’s smart.” “You’d move in?” “Yes.” “You’d smile for cameras, wear the ring, attend dinners with foreign investors?” “All of it.” Charles circled behind his desk. “What do you want in return?” “Access. Publicity. Name recognition. When the year ends, I walk away with a better career.” He looked amused. “You’re ambitious.” “Or maybe just strategic.”

Charles opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. “I drafted something. Just in case PR pushed me into a corner. I never thought I’d use it.” He handed it over. Sarah opened the folder. Twelve-month marriage. Public appearances required. Living arrangements specified. No claims to assets. Zero physical obligations. A hard exit clause. It was perfect. Charles watched her face. “Still interested?” “I’ll bring it back signed.”

She turned and left before her pulse gave her away. That night, Sarah sat on the floor of her apartment, the contract spread out before her. She read each line three times. Everything was spelt out. Clear boundaries. No loopholes. She reached into a drawer and pulled out an old photo. Her father stood smiling, arms around a younger Charles. A fake memory. A lie, now stained by her mother’s final words. Her hands shook slightly as she signed her name.

The next morning, she walked into Charles’s office just after seven. He looked up, shirt sleeves rolled, tie loose around his neck. “You’re early,” he said. “I don’t waste time.” She placed the folder on his desk. He flipped it open and scanned her signature. “You’re in.” Sarah nodded once. Charles reached for his pen and signed next to her name. Then he leaned back, tapping the folder closed. “Starting tomorrow,” he said, his eyes fixed on her, “you belong to me.” She didn’t blink. “And you belong to me.” A faint smile curved on his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

By noon, the company’s internal news had already shifted. Charles Benson, once known as New York’s most unattached CEO, was now engaged. The official statement was brief. Strategically leaked through PR. Sarah walked the hallways like nothing changed, though heads turned. Her inbox lit up with questions she ignored. No one dared ask her face-to-face. She returned to her office and found a box waiting for her. Inside: a diamond ring, plain and elegant. Next to it, a note in Charles’s handwriting. Wear it to the dinner tonight. You’re sitting next to me. She slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Later that night, the ballroom was glowing with gold and crystal. Investors from Kyoto, Europe, and the Middle East sipped champagne and talked numbers.

Sarah walked in beside Charles, hand in his. The cameras flashed. “You clean up well,” he whispered. “So do you.” Throughout the evening, Sarah played her role perfectly. Soft smiles. Confident posture. Knowing glances. She looked like the wife of a billionaire—graceful, poised, untouchable. Charles noticed.

When the speeches ended, and guests began to mingle freely, he leaned close to her ear. ‘’you are unwavering, aint you?” Sarah smiled. Her voice was calm and sweet. ‘’Not even in the face of my oppressors’’. Charles’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. Because they’re circling.” Her eyes locked with his. “Let them.” But inside, her stomach twisted. This wasn’t just a game anymore. This was war. And she was already in too deep.