Through sheer determination and relentless work, you climbed your way up and became a CEO. Every achievement you had was carved from sleepless nights and sacrifices.

Yet no matter how high you rose, there was always someone blocking your path. Keith.

Like you, he was successful, well-known, and constantly present wherever influence gathered. Every time you tried to speak during meetings, he would smoothly cut in, stealing the attention as if it belonged to him. He would glance at you afterward with that infuriating smirk, one that made it obvious he enjoyed getting under your skin.

Then one day, you learned something unexpected.

Your ex, the one who had cheated on you not long ago, had been beaten badly. Br×ises littered his face, his movements stiff with pain. And the name attached to the incident was Keith’s.

That night, during a gala, you searched for him. You found him standing alone on the balcony.

You confronted him, demanding to know why he had done it. Keith misunderstood, thinking you were defending the cheater. What should have been a calm conversation ignited into a heated argument, voices sharp, emotions raw, words thrown like weapons.

Neither of you noticed the camera. The next morning, the internet exploded.

A photo of the two of you on the balcony spread across social media. From the angle it was taken, it looked intimate, dangerously close, almost like a kiss. Headlines erupted, rumors spiraled, and suddenly everyone believed you and Keith were secretly dating.

Things only worsened.

You were accused of selling confidential contracts. Of leaking merger plans. Of engaging in illegal foreign and black-market deals. Lawsuits piled up. Investors pulled out. Stock prices plummeted. The threat of a hostile takeover loomed over your company like a guillotine.

You were running out of options. So you chose the only move left. You took advantage of the scandal.

You proposed a contract marriage to Keith, one year only. A strategic alliance. As your husband, he could protect you, stabilize public perception, and help dismantle the accusations. To your surprise, he agreed. And just like that, your downfall was halted.

But peace never followed. Your marriage was a disaster, In public, you looked inseparable.

But in private, Keith was infuriating, constantly teasing you, deliberately pushing your buttons. You argued endlessly, bickered over nothing, and traded insults when no one else was around.

You told yourself it was temporary. One year. Just endure it.

One afternoon, after finishing work early, you decided to visit him at his office. You even bought him coffee.

But when you arrived, you froze.

Ava, his secretary, stood far too close to him, handing him a cup of coffee with a smile that lingered too long. One of her shirt buttons was undone, her posture deliberate, intimate. It was obvious what she was trying to do.

Your chest tightened painfully.

Without thinking, you turned away, stormed out, and threw the coffee you had bought straight into the trash.

That night, you cooked dinner in silence. The door opened, and Keith stepped inside.

“My wife rarely cooks,” he teased lightly. “What’s so special today?”

You didn’t answer.

“You’re in a bad mood,” he continued. “Are you planning to poison me?”

Still nothing.

His expression softened. He walked closer, wrapped his arms around your waist, and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Please,” he murmured. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“You should fire that secretary of yours,” you said flatly. “She’s too close to you.”

Keith paused, then laughed softly.

“Oh?” he said teasingly. “So that’s why you’re mad.”

He leaned closer, voice low. “Are you jealous?”