My Mate is Another Woman's Fate

Konstantin

After briefly filling Margarita in on yesterday's visit from the lawyers, I leaned back in my chair and rubbed the bridge of my nose wearily. Since yesterday, it feels like someone's dropped a ton of problems on me-pressing down with unbearable weight.

In some ways, Margarita has always been like a mother to me. I listen to her advice. She's one of the few people who helped me reach the heights I stand on today. Sometimes, simple support and faith in a person-especially a wild teenager-can work miracles and shape their future. She never imposed her opinions on me; she only helped guide my energy in the right direction.

"Yeah..." she sighed. "I never trusted Alexey either. But look, you still have almost two months left. It could've been worse-you might never have learned about your father's condition at all. You have to get married, that's true, but don't rush into choosing."

"How am I not supposed to rush?" I snapped, frustration bubbling inside me. "It's not like I've got a lineup of candidates! I need to find a fake wife-someone I can live with under the same roof for five years. In one house. Always together, in public, under everyone's watchful eyes. And that damn Makar could drop by anytime. With the kind of work I do, I can't trust just anyone. Finding someone to pose as my wife is one thing, but finding someone reliable-someone I can actually depend on-that's not quick or easy. And the fewer people who know about the will's conditions, the better. Otherwise, there'll be plenty of bastards eager to ruin everything for me."

I rose from my seat and turned toward the panoramic window. Below, the city stretched out, filled with people hurrying back and forth. Each of them with their own problems, their own lives, their own hopes.

I ruffle my hair for what feels like the hundredth time. My head is about to explode from the constant thinking. Where on earth am I supposed to find a trustworthy person in such a short time?

And then-like lightning-it hits me. An insight. A revelation. I turn sharply to face Margarita.

"I think I know the right person!" I say, my eyes fixed on the door of the office. "She's right under my nose! If she agrees, I won't even have to look for anyone else."

"Are you sure?" Margarita asks suspiciously. "Maybe you should still take a look around, consider other options?"

"Almost sure," I reply confidently. "She's someone I can trust."

Margarita only sighs heavily in response.

The next day, arriving at work earlier than usual, the first place I head to is the control room of our production workshop. It's located on the second floor, with massive observation windows that offer a full view of the entire manufacturing space.

The workshop is huge-and spotless. The employees move around in special suits and personal protective gear. We take that seriously here. After all, the quality and prestige of our products are at stake. The floor is filled with machinery-both massive and compact-most of it automated. Everything is robotic, powered by the latest technology that costs a small fortune. Human workers only oversee minor processes and input commands into the computers.

I love watching our machines at work. Somewhere, microchips are being soldered; in another area, a laser cuts out a precise detail; and further down the line, someone carefully assembles the finished product. Everything moves along conveyor belts or through the mechanical arms of robots. It all reminds me of a grand industrial orchestra, where every element plays its unique part-resulting in a perfect creation, a symphony.

There's a kind of romance in it for me-watching raw material transform into something precise, valuable, and alive. It calms me. Strangely enough, it even inspires me.

I stand there for a while, absorbed in the rhythm of the factory, until I hear the door open behind me-and the sharp sound of heels tapping against the floor.

I didn't turn around-I already knew who it was.

"Oh, you're here. Good morning. Something's bothering you? You don't usually come here without a reason," Nicole said with a faint smile as she came up beside me, also gazing down at the factory floor.

"What was it you wanted to talk about? You asked for a meeting," she said.

"Not here. Let's go to my office." I kept my eyes on the production line as I spoke, then finally turned and led the way to the door.

As expected, everyone was already at their workstations in my reception area. Margarita and Dana. So Margarita really did choose that girl. She's quite pretty, always neat and professional-and I can't deny I'm crazy about her scent. Those light-colored eyes of hers sometimes look at me as if they can see straight through to my bones.

After greeting everyone, Nicole and I headed into my office. While she settled into one of the chairs, I turned toward the panoramic window overlooking the city below. People everywhere, rushing-some to work, some on their own errands. The rhythm of city life. The sky was clouding over; rain was on the way.

I turned back to Nicole. She's been part of my life for a long time and is one of the few I can call a friend. Beautiful, intelligent, fully versed in my field. This would be the right choice.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off:

"Nicole, marry me."

I saw the shock in her eyes-and... was that happiness, too? She stared at me, clearly searching for the right words. I hurried to clarify:

"Not for real. I need your help. You're probably the only close and understanding person I can trust with this. It's my father's will. If I don't marry by my thirtieth birthday, his share of my company's stock goes to Logitronic. You know exactly what that would mean."

The joy in Nicole's eyes faded into thoughtfulness.

"This isn't exactly how I pictured my morning. And certainly not a proposal of marriage," she said with a faintly sad smile, not looking at me. "Can you explain in more detail what would be required of me in the role of your wife?" At last, she lifted her gaze to meet mine.

And in my mind, unbidden, flashed Dana's eyes-lighter even than Nicole's. Clearing my throat, I explained:

"We'll sign a contract. I need a wife for five years. But-" I paused. "The problem is, my father had a friend appointed to make sure the marriage is real, not fake." Nicole's brows drew together as she listened closely. "He can show up at my house at any time, meet with us, drop in unannounced. So we'll need to convincingly play the part in front of him."

Nicole exhaled slowly, still deep in thought.

"As for everything else," I continued, "there are no obligations. You're free to see whoever you want, just not openly. And yes, we'll live in the same house. I'll cover all expenses-including your role." I dropped heavily into my chair, feeling drained. "My birthday's in about two months, and I have no other candidate-certainly no romantic one. I'm not handing my life's work to that bastard Savelyev without a fight. You know exactly what this would mean for our company and everything we've built."

I looked straight into her eyes, hope flickering in mine.

"So... are you willing to go along with this crazy plan?"

"Won't it look suspicious to your father's friend that you suddenly decided to get married?" Nicole asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"No," I said confidently. "He knows we've been working together for a long time. We'll say we've been secretly in love for years and just kept it quiet. And when the details of the will came out, we decided there was no point hiding it anymore - so we made the decision to make it official. We'll go over the details later."

Nicole looked at me for a few moments, then gave a firm nod.

"Alright. I agree."

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Dear readers,

This is my very first book, and I'm really nervous about it. I'd be so happy to hear any of your thoughts or comments! ❤️