I never planned to love him.
In fact, love was the last thing on my mind the night I signed that paper.
The rain was falling heavily that evening, like the sky itself was angry with Lagos. I sat inside the black SUV, my palms sweaty, my heart beating fast. The man beside me didn't look at me—not even once.
"Read it carefully," the lawyer said, sliding the document toward me.
I laughed softly. "You think say I get choice?"
Three million naira.
That was the amount written boldly at the top of the contract.
Three million to pretend.
Three million to smile.
Three million to love a man who was never meant to be mine.
His name was Damien Cole—sharp jaw, cold eyes, the kind of man who commanded silence when he entered a room.
The contract was simple. I would be his girlfriend for six months. I would attend events, smile for cameras, and play the role perfectly.
No feelings.
No questions.
No attachment.
I needed the money. My mother was lying in a hospital bed, and every day came with a new bill. Pride couldn't save her. Love wouldn't either.
So I signed.
That was the moment my life changed.
Damien finally looked at me. His eyes were dark, unreadable.
"From tonight," he said calmly, "you belong in my world."
A chill ran through me.
"And after six months?" I asked.
His lips curved into a faint smile.
"After six months," he replied, "we forget this ever happened."
I believed him.
I didn't know that pretending to love him would be easy.
Pretending not to would destroy me.