She better not accuse me of breaching clause 12 in the contract.
I haven't even introduced her to my grandparents yet, and she's trying to die in our house? How troublesome.
Minutes crawled by.
Slowly, Olaedo's breathing evened out. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned back in her chair, trying to rest, and to make sense of what had just happened.
How did this happen? she wondered. I haven't had an allergic reaction in years.
Then realization struck. Wait… I'm not at home anymore. Someone must have given me something I'm allergic to.
Across the dining room, the servants exhaled in relief at her recovery, but worried glances passed between them.
Who made a mistake?
No one dared imagine the consequences, knowing how fiercely the Young Master cared for her. Someone's getting fired this early morning, they all thought.
Chibuzor, meanwhile, stood, phone still in hand, eyes sharp. "Olisa," he said, voice low and controlled, "I've administered the EpiPen. Don't go just yet. I need to make sure my wife is completely fine."
He paused, scanning her recovering form. Every twitch, every subtle movement drew his focus.
She's mine. I won't let anything happen to her, not here, not under my watch.
"Yo—"
Olisa began to protest angrily, but froze mid sentence when Chibuzor's last words registered.
Wait… wife?
His incredulous shout came crackling through the line. "Chibuzor, did you just say wife?!"
"You traitor! You betrayed the Association of Single Men. How could—"
Tu tu tu.
Chibuzor cut the call. I don't even remember joining your ASM. And it's not like I had a choice in this wife situation.
Satisfied that Olaedo was stabilizing, his gaze sharpened. Cold, precise, and dangerous.
"Gather everyone, now," he ordered, his voice ice cold, brooking no argument. "I want to know who tried to kill my wife… in her own house."
For several tense minutes, silence reigned. No one dared speak, their trembling forms reflecting the sheer weight of his presence.
Finally, Chef Ezinne, the team leader, stepped forward. She cast a glance at the others, drew a deep, steadying breath, and faced him.
"Sir… we are not sure how this happened," she admitted, her voice shaky but determined. "One of my girls reported that Young Madam requested a simple sandwich and tea again, so that's what we prepared for her."
Chibuzor's eyes narrowed, sharp as daggers. Every second of hesitation, every tiny detail, mattered now.
Someone must have added something to it, he thought, every muscle in his body tensed. And they will pay for it.
He leaned closer, his voice low, dangerous. "Then someone here, someone, decided to add… what? Something extra? Poison? Allergens?"
The room fell silent again, the air thick with fear and anticipation.
Olaedo froze mid sip, the glass of water hovering at her lips. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. Wiat a minute, when did I ask for a sandwich and tea? I thought they had just been preparing my meals, unaware of my preferences…
Chibuzor's expression mirrored her surprise. If it wasn't poison or allergens, she's must be allergic to what she ate.
Thinking back over the past three months, she had indeed consistently eaten only a sandwich and tea, or some other simple dish.
His brows knitted tightly as he processed this. She only requested a sandwich and tea again and again? His eyes swept the table, lingering on the extravagant spread. Then everything else… was prepared just for me?
He turned his piercing gaze to her, suspicion and curiosity flashing in his eyes. "Did you really… only ask for a sandwich and tea… again?"
Olaedo's mind raced. Pieces of the morning were suddenly clicking into place. Something was definitely off. But she kept her composure, folding her hands neatly on the table as if nothing were amiss.
Let's see how he handles this, she thought, her heartbeat quickening. If he fails to give me the respect I deserve, we're going to have a serious conversation. And if he still doesn't change… this contract remains strictly business. No friendship, no compromise, no matter the cost.
Her thoughts sharpened, biting, almost bitter. Living with a man who doesn't respect me? No way.
She exhaled slowly, bracing herself. I didn't sign up for Maduabuchi Part 2: The Sequel. The CEO I married just to stabilize my business now betrays me? Not happening. Let's see how he handles this first.
Her gaze met his, steady and unyielding. This was a test, and she intended to see whether he would pass.
Feigning confusion, Olaedo shook her head and replied, "I've never requested anything specific because no one has ever asked me. Sandwich and tea, or any simple dish, aren't bad choices, so I just went with them."
Hearing this, Chibuzor's expression darkened, his sharp gaze snapping toward the housekeeper. His voice cut through the room like a whip. "You have never once forgotten to ask me what I want to eat at any point in the day. But you've been skipping such an important task for your Young Madam?"
The room went silent.
"What?" he continued, his tone low and dangerous. "You don't recognize her? Do you think she's not worthy?"
The words landed like a hammer. The housekeeper flinched, his back stiffening under Chibuzor's intensity.
Deep down, Chibuzor knew the situation was partly his fault. The housekeeper likely assumed that because he had chosen this young madam, practically at random, she must not matter to him.
But he knew better.
Fake marriage or not, she was still his legal wife. And no one, not even himself, had the right to disrespect her.
She's mine to protect, he thought, jaw tightening. And I will not let anyone forget it.
His instincts were correct. The housekeeper had deliberately assigned the task to one of the cooks, prioritizing the young master alone. He assumed this young madam didn't matter much in her husband's eyes, or so he thought.
Chibuzor's gaze burned into him. "You will remember this. From now on, every meal, every request, every preference, she comes first. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes… sir," the housekeeper whispered, barely audible.
Chibuzor turned his attention back to Olaedo, his expression softening ever so slightly. Despite the chaos, she remained composed, serene even, like a queen surveying her court. And yet, he felt that familiar tug, the one that reminded him why he couldn't treat this marriage as business as usual.
I may not have chosen her for love, he thought, but I'll be damned if anyone disrespects her under my roof.
Olaedo, oblivious to the full depth of his thoughts, sipped her tea calmly, the slightest flicker of a smile tugging at her lips. The air between them simmered, not with anger, but with something unspoken, a tension laced with both challenge and claim.
The housekeeper lowered his head, silently resolving never to underestimate the Young Madam again.
"Who's the cook you assigned this task to for the past three months?" Chibuzor suddenly asked.
The housekeeper faltered, eyes darting nervously. Finally, he pointed toward one of the young cooks. "It… it's her, sir."
All eyes shifted to the cook, a mixture of shock, suspicion, and unease rippling through the room. Many had noticed her unusual behavior around the Young Madam but had dismissed it as antisocial tendencies. Only the kitchen staff knew the truth: this girl harbored resentment toward their new mistress.
Chibuzor's gaze zeroed in on her, cold and lethal, the kind that could make even the bravest falter. He stepped forward, each movement measured and deliberate. His voice sliced through the air like a sharpened blade.
"So," he said, slow and deliberate, "you thought it was okay to disrespect my wife? To endanger her life? Do you think I'm dead?"
The cook froze, her face paling as the weight of his words, and the deadly seriousness behind them, settled in. The room fell into a tense silence, every staff member holding their breath, knowing fully well the consequences of such an offense.
Chibuzor's eyes narrowed, unyielding. "Answer me. Do you understand what you've done?"
"I… I—I didn't mean…" she stammered, her voice trembling. "I… I thought she wouldn't mind… I just—"
"Just what?" His voice cut sharper, closer to a growl. "Just what makes you think anyone has the right to make decisions about her life but me?"
Olaedo, still recovering, watched quietly, her expression unreadable. But inside, a spark of satisfaction flickered. Finally, this man she had married, not for love, but for business, was showing exactly how fiercely he would protect her.
The young cook shrank under his gaze, realizing the enormity of her mistake. Chibuzor took a measured step closer, his presence commanding the room, leaving no space for excuses.