I will marry you

ROSALINE’S POV

Ace Robinson’s name was boldly written there, accompanied by his unmistakable signature. I blinked in disbelief. When did this happen? How on earth could Dad appoint Ace as the CEO of Mum’s company? It might not be a corporate giant, but it held sentimental value for me. Now, that idiot had turned it into collateral for a loan, and I could bet he’d taken a gamble with it, too.

Summoning whatever composure I had left, I approached the man in charge, “Sir, can’t we resolve this peacefully?” My voice, usually assertive, came out quieter, almost unrecognizable to my ears.

“If you do not have my money, there is nothing to resolve,” he replied, gesturing to his henchmen to manhandle me out.

“Three days!” I blurted out desperately before their hands could reach me. “I will send you the money in three days, please,” I pleaded, hoping against hope that he’d buy into my last-ditch promise.

He scrutinized me for what felt like an eternity, weighing the gamble of trusting my words. “If you don’t receive the money after three days, do whatever you like with the company,” I added, desperation lacing my words.

“I’ll be back in three days,” he finally declared and, with a nod to his entourage, exited the company premises.

As he left, I turned to my bewildered employees, rallying them with a decisive “You all should go home for now” before making my exit, determined to salvage what was left of Mum’s legacy in the looming three-day countdown.

****

“Ace!!” I screamed in anger, standing in our living room, awaiting my stepbrother’s appearance. As expected, he was nowhere to be found.

“Why are you shouting your brother’s name that way?” my dad inquired as he approached me.

“How could you?” I shot at him the moment he came into view. “How could you transfer the ownership of my mum’s company to that idiot?”

“First, you call him miserable, and now you call him an idiot. What’s wrong with making my son the owner of my company?” he shot back.

I shook my head in disbelief and flung the papers at him. He flipped them open, scanning the first two pages, then lifted his head to meet my gaze.

“I toiled every day to grow this company. I spent nights in the office to make sure that the company was still running, and what did you do? You transfer it to an idiot who gambled with it!” I screamed in frustration.

“There must be a mistake somewhere. Ace cannot...”

“Mistake, you call this a mistake?” I laughed hysterically. “ACE! Where is that fool you call a son?”

“Why are you disturbing the peace of this household with your noise?” My dad’s witch interjected as she descended the stairs.

“Why do you hate my son so much? You keep blaming him for everything,” she accused, positioning herself in front of me.

“If he had a little sense of reasoning, I wouldn’t always blame him,” I snapped back, gesturing to my dad to show her the papers.

After scrutinizing the documents, she turned to me, “How sure are you that my son is responsible for this?”

“Why don’t you call him out?” I retorted with an eye roll.

“Ace, you can come out now,” she instructed, and the fool promptly appeared.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I was drunk when it happened,” he apologized to his mother without even glancing at me.

“It’s alright, son. We will solve this somehow,” my dad and his witch chorused simultaneously.

Just then, my phone rang, and an unsaved number flashed on the screen. Without hesitation, I answered the call.

“Is this Rosaline Robinson?” The mysterious caller queried.

“Yes, that’s me. How may I help you?”

“You are invited to RB Company tomorrow at 9 AM. Don’t be late,” the caller instructed before hanging up.

Staring at my phone, I wondered why I was summoned to RB Company, a renowned and affluent establishment. I wasn’t acquainted with anyone there, so who was this mysterious caller? Exhausted, I sighed.

“Better find a way to get 600 million dollars in three days,” I declared to them, not waiting for their response, and headed upstairs to my room.

****

“Hello, I’m Rosaline Robinson. I was told to come here today,” I informed the receptionist at RB Company. Despite the uncertainty, I decided to honor the invitation; perhaps the caller held the key to saving my mom’s company. The receptionist, after a quick scan of her computer, turned to a burly guy, presumably one of the security guards.

“Take her to the CEO’s office,” she instructed.

I trailed behind the security guard into the elevator, my mind racing with questions. Why on earth would the CEO want to see me? How did he even know about me? How did he get my contact details? The answers to my questions, I figured, lay inside his office.

“Wait here,” the guard told me before knocking on a door and entering the office. Patiently, I awaited his return. A few minutes later, he emerged and signaled for me to enter. Once inside, he closed the door.

I didn’t bother scanning the office; my focus was on understanding the purpose of this unexpected meeting.

“Good morning, sir,” I greeted the pot-bellied man, presumably the CEO.

“Have a seat, Rosa,” he said, his eyes betraying an unsettling intent as they roamed over me.

After settling down, he got straight to the point, “I heard you need help.”

“Help?” I feigned ignorance.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. You need 600 million dollars, and I need a wife. Marry me, and I’ll wipe away your debt,” he proposed.

I gawked at him, grappling with the surreal nature of the offer. I couldn’t fathom marrying a man much older than my father. He anticipated my unspoken question.

“If you’re wondering about my age, I’m 60,” he said, a sly grin on his face, his gaze still filled with inappropriate desire.

Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, the desperation to save my mom’s company clashed with the repulsion of marrying someone twice my age. The clock was ticking, and there seemed to be no other way to secure that colossal sum in three days. In desperate times, they say you resort to desperate measures.

“I will marry you,” I reluctantly agreed, making a pact that felt like dancing with the devil for my mom’s sake.