Natalia’s POV

Amy pulled up outside my house, smiling at me like she has been doing the whole way. “I tell you, Nat, Micheal is into you. I mean, did you see the way he was looking at you? What did you think was the reason he offered to bring you home? Forget Scott. Micheal is a man, not some boy who cheats with your stepsister”

I sighed, leaning against the car door. “Amy, I can’t deal with this right now. Scott and Eva hurt me, and my dad’s health is all I can think about. I need time to fix things, not jump into something new.”

Her smile faded in an instant. “I don’t like seeing you go through this. Let me talk to my dad. He loves your father, and I’m sure he can help.”

“That is sweet of you, Amy, but I don’t think it is necessary. I will figure it out,” I said, managing a small smile.

She hesitated before nodding. “Okay. But just think about what I said!” She shouted as she drove off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

When I walked in, the house was dim, only lit by the living room lamp. My father sat on the couch, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

“Where have you been? It’s one in the morning,” he said, his tone firm but calm.

“I was with Amy,” I replied, sitting beside him. “Dad, you have to talk to mother. She can’t use all the money on Natalia while you are…” my words caught in my throat. “You need it.”

His hand rested on my back, his touch steady and reassuring. “Natalia, I will handle it. I will talk to my boss tomorrow. You don’t need to worry.”

But I did.

I kissed his cheek and whispered, “goodnight,” before retreating to my room.

And as soon as lay in my bed, sleep came faster than expected.

*

The morning sun stabbed through my closed curtains. I looked at the watch on my bedside table and realized I was late.

I rushed through my morning routing, and rushed outside, skipping breakfast.

Work was a blur of elevator doors, rushed greetings, and endless clicking keyboards. As I approached the elevators, two women’s voices caught my attention.

“Mr. Willa asked me to find a wife for him. Can you believe that?” one woman said.

“What about Kimberly? Weren’t they dating?”

“I don’t know and, to be honest, I don’t care either. Apparently, he just needs someone good-looking.”

My heart skipped a beat. It was like God heard my prayers in a way. Mr. Willa wanted a wife.

I wasn’t sure what possessed me, but I found myself on his floor, knocking on his office door.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice.

Stepping inside, I froze. It was him. Micheal, the man from the club, now sitting behind a sleek desk, his sharp blue suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His blue eyes lit up with recognition.

“Natalia,” he said, smiling as he stood. “What brings you here?”

I hesitated suddenly regretting my impulsiveness. “I… I overheard something downstairs.”

“Go on,” he said, motion for me to sit.

“I heard you are looking for a contract wife.”

His smile faltered. “And?”

“I need money for my dad’s surgery,” I said before I stopped myself. “You need a wife. I can be that for you, in exchange for paying his bills.”

For a moment, silence hung between us. Then his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why you were at the bar last night? Did you know who I was?”

“What? No!” I protested.

He scoffed, his voice cold. “I thought you were different. I can’t believe this.”

His words stung more than they should have. “Please,” I said, standing. “Just think about it. I’m desperate.”

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. “Fine. You have a deal. But this stays between us. Not even Amy can know. Not now.”

Relief washed over me, but his icy demeanour dampened it. “Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I closed the door behind me, exhaling a shaky breath. My chest felt tight, my mind racing.

What had I just done?

Micheal’s POV

I didn’t want to refuse her. But the fact that she approached me with such a proposal… it unsettled me.

Yes, I needed a wife. But I hadn’t expected her.

After what I witnessed last night, I thought Natalia was different, not caught up in all the games people play. Maybe she still was. Maybe this was just desperation, like she said. If my father were in her father’s position, I would probably do the same.

But still, how could I trust her? How true was her story? She might have been too angry to prove a point to her ex-boyfriend. Letting him know she was better. That he made a big mistake sleeping with her stepsister.

I brushed off the thoughts, picked up my phone and dialled. The line connected after one ring. “I need something,” I said, my tone low but firm.

“Of course, sir,” my sort of man secretary replied, his voice smooth and professional as always.

“I’m sending you a picture. Find out everything about her. Where she goes, who she meets, what she does. Her family members, friends. All of it.”

There was a pause, then, “understood. Anything else?”

“No, just that.” I ended the call and tossed the phone onto my desk, leaning back in my chair.

I didn’t know why I felt pity for her. But if what she said was true, her life was a mess. A cheating boyfriend, a sick father, and a stepsister who seemed just as awful as her mother could be.

What a life to endure!

Maybe we could help each other, as she said. A fair trade.

Or so I hoped.