Chapter 1
The check sitting on the mahogany desk was for fifty million Naira.
Amara Okafor stared at the clean, crisp paper, then looked up into the cold, unreadable eyes of Kade Adebayo.
“I don’t think you understand,” Amara said, her voice tighter than she intended. She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “I am a financial analyst. I fix corporate portfolios. I don’t sell my life.”
Kade didn’t blink. He leaned back in his leather executive chair, looking every bit the ruthless tech empire billionaire the media portrayed him to be. The tailored lines of his charcoal suit fit his broad shoulders perfectly, but his posture was pure predator.
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand, Ms. Okafor,” Kade said, his tone smooth, deep, and entirely devoid of warmth. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a rescue mission. For both of us.”
Amara scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. “A rescue mission? You’re asking me to pretend to be your fiancée for ninety days. You want me to lie to the press, lie to your board of directors, and wear a diamond the size of a quail’s egg. Why me? There are a hundred socialites in Lagos who would scream with joy at this offer.”
“Because those socialites want to stay married to me,” Kade replied bluntly. “You don’t. You actively dislike me. That makes you safe.”
He stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window of his penthouse office. The sprawling city of Abuja stretched out beneath them, a blur of concrete and evening traffic.
“My board needs to see stability before the international expansion is approved,” Kade continued, not turning around. “My grandmother’s trust requires me to be settled before I inherit the controlling shares. Ninety days. We play the perfect, devoted couple. Then, we have an amicable breakup. You walk away with enough capital to launch that fintech startup you’ve been secretly designing past midnight.”
Amara froze. Her heart did a sudden, violent stutter against her ribs. How does he know about my fintech plans? She had kept those blueprints locked away in a private drive.
Before she could ask, Kade turned around. The intensity in his dark eyes made the air in the room feel heavy.
“I know everything about you, Amara. I know you’re brilliant. I know you’re stubborn. And I know your family needs this money.” He walked back to the desk, sliding the check a fraction of an inch closer to her. “Sign the contract. Let me save my empire, and I will fund yours.”
Amara looked at the check. Fifty million Naira upfront. Another fifty million upon completion. It was enough to change everything. It was enough to clear her late father’s lingering debts and finally build her own legacy.
She despised men like Kade—men who thought everything, and everyone, had a price tag.
But as she looked at the check, she realized something terrifying.
He was right. She did have a price.
Slowly, Amara reached into her blazer pocket, pulled out her pen, and uncapped it. “Ninety days,” she whispered. “Strictly professional. No touching unless the cameras are flashing.”
A ghost of a smirk touched Kade’s lips. “Deal.”
Amara leaned forward and signed her name on the dotted line of the contract. The ink was barely dry when Kade’s phone buzzed on the desk.
He glanced down at the screen. Instantly, the faint smirk vanished. The color drained from his face so fast it turned a ghostly, dangerous pale.
Amara frowned, lowering her pen. “Kade? What is it?”
Kade didn’t look at her. His gaze remained locked on the phone screen, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the mahogany desk. When he finally spoke, his voice was a ragged, lethal whisper.
“The background check on your family just finished processing.”
He slowly lifted his head, and the look in his eyes made Amara want to take a step back. The business-like coldness was gone. In its place was a raw, burning hatred.
“Your father,” Kade breathed, his chest rising and falling heavily. “His name was Samuel Okafor.”
“Yes,” Amara said, her defensive walls immediately slamming back up. “What does my father have to do with this?”
Kade stood up straight, towering over her. The fifty-million-Naira check suddenly felt like a trap that had just snapped shut around her ankle.
“Twenty years ago, Samuel Okafor embezzled millions from my father’s firm and left my family in utter ruin,” Kade said, his voice shaking with a terrifying, quiet fury. “Your father destroyed my life.”
Amara gasped, her breath catching in her throat. “That’s a lie! My father would never—”
“It’s a fact,” Kade snarled, leaning over the desk, invading her space until she could smell his expensive cologne mixed with the sudden, metallic tang of pure tension. “And you just signed a iron-clad, legally binding contract to be my captive fiancée for the next three months.”
He leaned in closer, his eyes pitch black.
“Welcome to hell, Ms. Okafor.”
