His Paper Bride

The office had gone quiet long ago, but Ella's thoughts wouldn't stop echoing. After work hours, she walked home slowly, her mind heavy. When she reached her small apartment, she slipped off her shoes, dropped her bag on the floor, and exhaled deeply. The night was calm, but her mind wasn't. She took a long shower, the warm water running down her back like a temporary escape. Dinner was simple, rice and stew but she barely tasted it.

Later, lying on her bed, she replayed Ben's words over and over in her head: "Because I know you can handle this." The sentence rolled around her mind like a mystery she couldn't solve. What did he mean by that? Was it a compliment, or was it his way of saying she was disposable? She stared at the ceiling, her chest tightening with worry.

Is he going to maltreat me? she wondered. Make my life miserable? Make me regret ever knowing him, let alone accepting this proposal?

But then, her gaze drifted toward the cracked wall beside her bed, and she smiled faintly. The promise of a house, a car, and a business; things she had only dreamed of was enough to silence her fears. She brushed off every thought of doubt, whispering to herself, It's only two years. Two years, Ella. Then your life changes forever.

The next morning, Ella walked into the company building with confidence she didn't fully feel. Her lips carried a gentle smile that caught everyone's attention. Eyes followed her from the entrance to her desk, some filled with hatred, others with jealousy, and some with quiet disbelief. Whispers trailed her every move, but she didn't care.

She kept her chin up and focused on her work as if their opinions were invisible. She had learned long ago that people only envy what they can't have.

By noon, her phone buzzed with a call from Ben's secretary. "Mr. Ben wants to see you in his office."

Ella adjusted her blouse and walked down the hall. When she stepped inside, she froze for a moment. Sitting opposite Ben was a man in a navy-blue suit, his briefcase open, papers neatly arranged on the desk. The polished shine of his shoes told her everything, this was someone important.

"Have a seat," Ben said, his tone neutral.

Ella sat down, her fingers folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes darted between Ben and the stranger.

"This is the lawyer," Ben said finally. "You asked for a valid document, something that guarantees your reward after the deal is done. Here it is."

Ella blinked, taken aback. "So we're doing this now?"

"Yes," he replied. "You'll sign them, and then we'll proceed to why this arrangement is necessary in the first place."

She glanced at the papers laid before her; lines of text, stamps, legal jargon she couldn't fully understand. "How do I know these documents are real?" she asked quietly. "As easily as you can fake a marriage, these could be fake too."

Ben leaned back in his chair. "They're real," he said calmly. "But if you want, we can take it up to a higher authority. Everything can be done in front of you. No tricks."

Ella studied his face. He looked confident, unbothered. Something in his tone made her want to believe him. The thought of going through the stress of cross-checking everything made her sigh in exhaustion. She finally nodded.

"Okay. I'll sign it but I want to keep the original copy. You'll have a duplicate."

Ben gave a small approving nod. "Agreed."

The lawyer slid the papers toward them. Pens clicked open. The room went silent as their signatures touched the page one after another, binding them together in a deal that was more than paper. When they were done, Ben closed the file neatly.

"I'll come pick you up this weekend," he said. "We're going to visit my family."

Ella's heart skipped. She wasn't ready for that kind of pressure. "Sure," she said softly, even though her voice trembled a little.

When the weekend came, Ella wore her best dress; modest, elegant, though far from what the rich would consider stylish. The drive to his family's mansion was long, and the silence between them even longer. The moment they arrived, she felt the tension in the air.

The house was massive, grand, but cold. Every gaze that landed on her carried silent judgment. The servants whispered. The relatives smiled too tightly. Ben's father, a short man with a stern face, looked her up and down as if she were a stranger who'd stumbled into the wrong house.

Dinner was stiff. Silverware clinked against porcelain, but no one spoke kindly. Every word from the table felt like a hidden insult. Ella tried to keep her composure, though she whispered under her breath, "It seems rudeness is in the DNA of rich people."

Ben caught it but said nothing, only suppressing a small smirk.

By the end of the meal, his father cleared his throat. "The wedding will be held next week," he announced, leaving no room for argument. Ben nodded, Ella nodded. No one dared protest.

Three days later, the plan unfolded exactly as Ben intended; a quiet, fake court wedding witnessed only by him, Ella, and the lawyer. A few family members and friends were invited to keep up appearances. There were flowers, vows, and cameras, but none of it was real.

When it ended, and they stepped outside, Ella looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and relief. "So this is it?" she asked.

"Yes," Ben replied evenly. "Until the terms end."

She looked up at him, her eyes steady. "Don't make me regret this."

"None of us can afford that," he said.

From that day, Ella moved into his luxurious penthouse; a sprawling space of glass, marble, and silence. The domestic staff greeted her with courtesy, showing her around every room. Her own bedroom was larger than her entire apartment. The wardrobe was already stocked. The bathroom smelled of lavender and money.

For one fleeting night, she felt safe.

But by morning, Ben had turned cold again. The arrogance returned. His walls were back up, his words short and sharp. It was as if the man who once spoke to her softly had never existed.

And in that moment, Ella realized, though they were married on paper, she was stepping into a world where love had no place. Only survival.