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The weight of my father’s words pressed down on me like a boulder.
“Son, I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was any other way.”
I clenched my fists, trying to make sense of it all. “You’re telling me the only way to save the business is for me to marry some woman I’ve never even met?”
He sighed heavily, his usual commanding presence replaced with something I never expected to see—desperation. “Adriana is Victor’s daughter. The merger with his company is the only thing that can keep us afloat. And he’s… traditional. He wants to unite the families.”
I felt the bitterness rise in my throat. “So I’m just a bargaining chip? A pawn in some corporate game?”
“James, please try to understand—”
“No, Dad. I understand perfectly,” I cut him off. “You made reckless business decisions, and now I have to clean up your mess by selling myself like some medieval prince.”
His face fell, his shoulders slumping. “Just meet Adriana before you decide.”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to walk away. But there was something in his eyes—a silent plea I couldn’t ignore.
“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll meet her. But I’m not promising anything.”
A few days later, I found myself sitting across from Adriana in an upscale restaurant. She was breathtaking, her dark eyes sharp and calculating. But what struck me most was her presence—calm, controlled, like she already knew how everything would unfold.
“I appreciate you agreeing to meet me,” she said smoothly, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “This situation is… unconventional, but I think we can make it work.”
Something about the way she said it made me uneasy. Still, I had to admit—she was intelligent, witty, and far easier to talk to than I expected. By the time we parted ways, I found myself questioning my earlier resistance.
“She’s incredible,” I told my father the next day.
Relief washed over his face. “So you’ll do it?”
I hesitated, my gut telling me something still wasn’t right. But the hope in his eyes made my decision for me.
“Yes,” I finally said. “I’ll marry Adriana.”
The wedding was nothing more than a business transaction wrapped in white lace and expensive flowers. The pews were filled with corporate partners, the vows felt like contract terms, and even our kiss was brief, proper, for show.
By the time we were alone in the presidential suite of a five-star hotel, I was exhausted, my tie loosened as I tried to process the whirlwind of the day.
Adriana kicked off her heels and sat on the edge of the bed, her expression unreadable. Then, she locked eyes with me and said something that sent a chill down my spine.
“From now on, you must do everything I tell you.”
I let out a short laugh, certain she was joking. “Right. And what’s your first royal decree, Your Highness?”
Her expression didn’t change. “I’m hungry. Get me a burger from McDonald’s. The one on Grant Street. Walk there.”
I blinked. “Adriana, it’s almost midnight. That’s nearly two miles away.”
“I’m aware.” Her lips curled into a cold smile. “Better get going.”
I waited for the punchline. It never came.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious, James.” She tilted her head slightly. “My father only agreed to this marriage because your father promised you’d do whatever I wanted. That was the deal. So, you can either be my obedient husband… or watch your family lose everything.”
I stared at her, stunned. Just hours ago, she had been charming, warm. Now, she was someone else entirely. A woman who held all the power and knew it.
“Fine,” I gritted out. “One burger coming up.”
In the elevator, I pulled out my phone and called a taxi. I might be trapped in this marriage, but I wouldn’t be completely powerless.
The next morning, Adriana set the tone for what would become my new reality.
“Press my blue suit,” she ordered, not even looking up from her phone. “Then make me coffee. Black, one sugar.”
I scoffed. “I’m not your butler.”
She finally met my gaze, her expression unbothered. “No, you’re my husband. Which means you’re whatever I need you to be.”
Each day brought new humiliations. Wash her car by hand. Pick up her dry cleaning. Massage her feet after work. Each task was more degrading than the last.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked one evening as I polished her designer shoes.
She smirked. “Because I can. What could be better than having a man who caters to my every need?”
She thought she was breaking me. But she was teaching me instead.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to my father.
“She’s turned me into her personal servant.”
His face fell. “I had no idea, son. But the contract with Victor—”
“Can’t be broken without bankrupting us,” I finished. “I know.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” I replied, my mind already forming a plan. “I’ll handle Adriana.”
Tiny wireless cameras were easy to install. I placed them everywhere—our living room, the kitchen, her study, even our bedroom. For two weeks, I collected evidence: her cruel commands, her threats, the way she laughed with her friends about having me “completely under control.”
Her Instagram, meanwhile, painted a different picture. “Power couple,” she called us in her captions. If only her followers knew the truth.
Then came the final straw.
“I want sushi,” she announced one night. “From Akira. Walk there.”
I folded my arms. “No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“I said no.”
She stood up slowly, anger flashing across her face. “You don’t say no to me, James. Ever.”
“Go ahead,” I taunted. “Call your father. Tell him how disappointed you are.”
She smirked. “Gladly. And when I do, your family will be finished.”
I smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes, but she called her father anyway, putting the call on speaker.
“Daddy? James is refusing to do what I say. I think we need to reconsider—”
“Adriana.” Her father’s voice was ice cold. “What the hell have you been doing?”
Her smug expression faltered. “What do you mean?”
“James sent me videos. I saw everything. You’re getting divorced. Those were his conditions, and I agreed to them. Do you understand?”
Her face went pale. “You recorded me?”
I nodded. “Every moment. Every demand.”
The next morning, she found the divorce papers on the kitchen counter.
“You said you’d stay if I obeyed you! You lied!”
I smirked. “Yes. And I hope you learned something from it. Pack your things and get out.”
As she left, I finally breathed freely again.
This arranged marriage had cost me months of dignity, but it had taught me one thing: no deal, no family obligation, and no amount of money was worth surrendering control of my own life.
