The billionaire Lagos bride book
"I need a wife for one year. No feelings, no drama, just a signature on a contract. In return, I will pay you fifty million Naira."
Amaka Okoro is a survivor from the streets of Mushin, but even she is running out of time. Her mother is dying, and the hospital bills are a mountain she can't climb. When the cold and powerful Alexander Sterling-the most feared billionaire in Lagos-offers her a fake marriage, it feels like a miracle.
But the glittering world of Victoria Island is more dangerous than the slums. Behind the diamond rings and luxury galas lies a dark secret Alexander has been hiding for three years-a secret that involved the death of his first bride.
As the lines between the contract and reality begin to blur, Amaka must decide: is she just a replacement for a dead woman, or is she the only one who can save Alexander from his own shadows?
In the city of Lagos, love is a luxury. Can Amaka afford the price?
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6: The Lioness of Ikoyi
The gates of the Sterling Estate in Ikoyi didn't just open; they retreated, as if intimidated by the sheer power of the man sitting next to Amaka. As the Maybach purred up the winding driveway, lined with flame trees and illuminated by soft white spotlights, Amaka felt her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Remember," Alexander said, his voice a low, dangerous velvet in the darkness of the car. "You are not Amaka from Mushin tonight. You are my fiancée. You graduated from an Ivy League school, you find Lagos 'charming,' and you adore me. If you falter, the vultures will pick you clean before the appetizers are served."
Amaka smoothed the silk of her emerald gown. "I know how to survive, Alexander. I've survived Mushin. I can survive a bunch of people in suits."
"Mushin is honest about its violence," Alexander countered, turning to look at her. The moonlight caught the sharp edge of his jaw. "These people will smile at you while they look for the exact spot to twist the knife. Especially my mother."
The car stopped. The door was opened by a man in white gloves. As Amaka stepped out, the sheer scale of the gala took her breath away. The mansion was draped in thousands of white orchids. The air smelled of expensive champagne and even more expensive perfume.
Alexander stepped out and immediately moved to her side, his hand claiming her waist with a firm, possessive grip. "Smile, Amaka. The show begins."
As they entered the ballroom, the sea of Lagos elite parted. Heads turned. Whispers followed them like a trail of smoke. Amaka kept her head high, her eyes fixed forward, just as she had practiced in the ballroom sessions.
"Alexander! At last."
A woman approached them, trailing an aura of absolute authority. She was dressed in a gold lace iro and buba that probably cost more than a fleet of cars. Her neck was draped in heavy coral beads and diamonds. This was Beatrice Sterling-the Matriarch.
"Mother," Alexander said, his voice stiffening. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but his body remained tense. "I'd like you to meet Amaka. My fiancée."
Beatrice Sterling didn't look at her son. Her sharp, calculating eyes went straight to Amaka. She looked at Amaka's hair, her skin, the way she held her clutch. It was an interrogation without a single word.
"Amaka," Beatrice said, her voice like fine sand. "A lovely name. Quite... traditional. Alexander tells me your family is 'private.' I've lived in this city for sixty years and I've never heard of an Okoro family with a daughter of marriageable age in these circles. Where exactly did you grow up, dear?"
Amaka felt the trap closing. She felt Alexander's hand tighten on her waist-a warning.
"We move in different circles, Mrs. Sterling," Amaka said, forced a polite, cool smile. "My father believed that true wealth is felt, not flaunted. We spent most of our time between our estate in Enugu and school in London. I only recently returned to Lagos to... find what I was looking for."
She glanced at Alexander, and for a split second, the lie felt real.
Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "London? How interesting. And which part of London? Mayfair? Belgravia?"
"Brixton, actually," Amaka said before she could stop herself. Alexander's breath hitched. "It's where the real culture is. I find the West End so... repetitive. Don't you?"
Beatrice looked stunned for a heartbeat, then a small, cold smile touched her lips. "A girl with opinions. How dangerous."
Suddenly, a younger woman in a dress that was practically painted onto her body sashayed toward them. She was stunning, with a bored, beautiful face.
"Alex, darling," the woman purred, ignoring Amaka entirely. "You're late. You missed the toast to the new merger. And who is this... colorful addition to the evening?"
"Vanessa," Alexander said, his voice turning to ice. "This is Amaka. My future wife. Amaka, this is Vanessa Cole. An... old acquaintance."
Vanessa's eyes flicked over Amaka's emerald dress. "Fake emeralds are so in this season, aren't they? So brave of you to wear them to a Sterling gala."
Amaka felt the sting, but she didn't flinch. She looked Vanessa dead in the eye. "They are as real as my engagement, Vanessa. Perhaps you're just used to looking at things that are artificial."
The silence that followed was deafening. Alexander's grip on her waist changed-it wasn't a warning anymore; it was a support.
"If you'll excuse us," Alexander said, his eyes flashing with a dark amusement. "I need to introduce my 'brave' fiancée to the board of directors."
As they walked away, Alexander leaned down, his lips brushing Amaka's ear. "Brixton? You almost gave me a heart attack. But the comment about the emeralds... that was masterful."
"I told you," Amaka whispered, her adrenaline surging. "I know how to handle bullies. Whether they wear rags or lace, they're all the same."
"Don't get too comfortable," Alexander warned. "My mother isn't a bully. She's a predator. And she's only just started hunting."
As they reached the center of the dance floor, the music shifted to a slow, haunting melody. Alexander pulled her into his arms for the first dance of the night. Under the glow of a thousand crystals, with the elite of Lagos watching their every move, Alexander leaned in and whispered, "They're watching for a crack in the glass, Amaka. Give them a kiss instead."
Before she could protest, his lips were on hers. It wasn't the cold, clinical kiss of a contract. It was hot, possessive, and felt far too much like the truth.
As the music faded, the applause of the Lagos elite felt like the rattling of dry bones. Alexander didn't let go of my hand as he led me toward the balcony, away from the prying eyes of Vanessa and the Board.
'You did well, Amaka,' he murmured, his voice sounding tired for the first time. 'But don't think the war is over. My mother is already planning her next move, and the blogs will have our faces on every screen in Nigeria by sunrise'.
I looked out at the lights of Ikoyi, thinking of the dark, quiet room in Mushin where my mother was fighting for her life. I was wearing a dress that cost millions, but I had never felt more like a prisoner. 'I'm ready for them,' I whispered, more to myself than him. But as I looked at the shadow Alexander cast on the marble floor, I realized I wasn't just afraid of his enemies anymore. I was afraid of the man himself."
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7.4
Two years after my death, I was a ghost trapped beside my grandmother, who suffered from Alzheimer's. She still thought I was alive, still trying to contact my ex-boyfriend, Liam.
"Do you regret it, Chloe?" Liam's voice was biting and cold. "It's useless. Even if you got down on your knees and begged me, I would never give you another chance."
He thought I was still alive. He thought I was manipulating my grandmother to get to him.
But I was a ghost, and nothing more. I had left this world a long time ago.
Liam was supposed to hate me forever, right up until someone told him the truth.
"She's dead! She's been dead for two years. And you killed her."
Liam's world shattered.
He came looking for me in the most extreme way possible.
7.2
In the glittering skyline of Lagos, where power and ambition rule, twenty-two-year-old Cynthia-Rose dreams of success but is trapped in the relentless grip of family struggles. When the enigmatic and wealthy Chief Fredrick Mba, a man old enough to be her father, offers her a life of unimaginable luxury... at a price, her world tilts on the edge of danger, desire, and deception.
It is a deal of power, control, and temptation. A marriage not born of love, but of circumstance. As Cynthia-Rose steps into Fredrick's world of opulence, she finds herself caught in a dangerous game of desire, manipulation, and secrets that could destroy everything she holds dear.
In a city where nothing comes free, and love has a price. Can Cynthia-Rose navigate the delicate balance of all give and all take, or will surrendering to temptation cost her more than she ever imagined?
8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
8.8
Bella Danvers aka Isabella Powell is a 20-year-old college student who encountered the hot and ruthless CEO of the Rinaldi Corporation, Gabriel Rinaldi. They had a forgetful one-night stand that took a turn for the worst. Will he be able to find her before he is forced into an arranged marriage? Will she be able to tell him the news? Or will they be forced apart?
7.4
Helena woke up in a sheer silk slip, trapped inside the romance novel she had read the night before.
She was the doomed villainess.
And she had just executed the most pathetic plot in the book: hiding in the closet to seduce her cold, ruthless legal guardian, Hayward.
It was the exact move that got the original Helena thrown out on the street to die.
"Helena, your time is up. Get out."
Hayward's freezing voice came from the other side of the door.
He didn't just reject her. He threatened to strip her of her trust fund and permanently lock her in a psychiatric ward.
Everyone in the massive estate despised her, treating her like trash.
To force her to break, Hayward exiled her to the company's worst design department, a graveyard for corporate failures.
At the same time, her innocent step-sister, the novel's female lead, was being cornered and harassed by a predatory manager.
Helena was suffocating under the original owner's ruined reputation.
She was surrounded by hostile eyes, everyone just waiting for her to throw a tantrum and completely self-destruct.
Why should she be forced to pay the ultimate price for the original villain's deadly mistakes?
Instead of screaming or begging, Helena wrapped herself in an oversized coat and played the perfect, submissive lunatic to survive.
She completely flipped the script and took the terrified female lead under her wing.
When that manager tried to lay a hand on her new sister, Helena didn't hesitate to crush his foot with her stiletto.
7.1
Bonnie Galvan woke up to the suffocating scent of lilies, staring at the mirror in the exact same seven-figure wedding dress she had worn seven years ago.
In the doorway stood her so-called best friend Itzel and her secret lover Erwin, desperately urging her to elope.
They warned her that her soon-to-be husband, the billionaire Arlington Townsend, was a crippled monster, and marrying him would ruin her life forever.
In her previous life, she blindly believed their lies and ran away from the altar.
Because of her public betrayal, the ruthless Townsend family completely bankrupted her father's company in retaliation.
Erwin and Itzel swooped in as her saviors, only to steal whatever was left of her family's wealth and power.
When she was finally stripped of her value, Erwin pushed her down an icy mountain slope during a brutal blizzard.
With a shattered ankle, she could only watch as Itzel smirked and Erwin coldly walked away, leaving her to be buried alive under the freezing snow.
As her lungs burned and her heart gave out in the agonizing cold, she was consumed by hatred.
Why did the man who swore to protect her and the friend she trusted with her life plot so meticulously to destroy her?
Opening her eyes again, Bonnie was back in the bridal suite, minutes before the ceremony.
This time, she didn't run.
She walked straight down the aisle, looked the terrifying Arlington Townsend in the eye, and firmly said her vows.
"I do."