To Become The CEO I Must Marry The Nerd Girl

The young billionaire is sitting with his dying grandfather, who is about to give him all his money. The problem is, his grandson is a spoiled brat who faked his university degree and knows nothing about running a tech company that specializes in AI technology. His only chance is to use someone to do the work for him while he shines in the spotlight and does what he does best: charm people with his looks and sweet tongue. His grandfather gives him one last chance to prove himself, if he manages to complete the most important deal they've been working years to secure with one of the biggest Cyber security companies then his grandfather will make him the official CEO. And he'll be the heir of the family's fortune. His victim and behind-the-scenes CEO is his friend from university. She is a nerd girl who liked him and helped him pass all the tests in college; she helped him graduate without reading a single book. He goes to her humble home to find her, he proposes, and tells her that he has always loved her and that it is time for them to get married.

Chapters

Chapter 6

Tala's Pov :

The scent of my wedding bouquet, the gardenias and peonies, still lingered in my hair three days later as I stood in the soaring, cold atrium of Vale Industries. I remember clutching my new handbag, a lavish gift from Amir, feeling utterly displaced in my cream-colored trouser suit. It was supposed to be for airport lounges. Not for this sterile temple of glass and ambition.

"I need you with me, Tala," Amir had said that morning, his hands on my shoulders as we stood before our bedroom mirror. His reflection had been so earnest, his dark eyes shadowed. "With Grandfather's health failing... the board is like a pack of wolves sniffing for any weakness. My technical team speaks of many issues, and I can't afford to lose time. Having you here, it steadies me. You understand the gears inside the clock."

My heart, that foolish, eager organ, had swelled. He remembered. He needed me-not just the wife, but the engineer. The top of our class. The one who'd patiently explained data structures over library coffee, whose notes he'd borrowed before every exam, who'd debugged his final-year project while he schmoozed the professors.

His charm had opened doors, but my work had built the foundations he walked across to get his degree. And now he was admitting, in his way, that he still needed that. The cancelled honeymoon was a bitter pill, but it was a necessity and intimate partnership. "Of course I'll come," I'd said, turning to hug him. "Wherever you need me."

That first day, I felt a strange, secret thrill. While he was in back-to-back meetings, I was given a temporary desk just outside his office. I organized his chaotic files, brought him coffee, and smiled at executives. When he'd stride out, his focus absolute, and pause to murmur, "Karl from DevOps mentioned a cascading failure in the new API. Can you listen in and just... translate it into human for me?" I'd nod, feeling essential. See? I'd think. Our strengths complement each other. He handles the people; I handle the problems.

The "emotional support" quickly found a tangible, technical shape. On the second day, he placed a thick technical report on my desk-a diagnostics analysis for their flagship software, dense with code snippets and server logs.

"My eyes glaze over after the first page of this, azizam," he sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, a gesture of charming defeat I recognized from our university days. "You always had the magic touch with this stuff. Remember how you fixed my recursion algorithm in twenty minutes? I was stuck for two days." He gave me that boyish, grateful smile that had always made my efforts feel worthwhile. "Just see if the summary makes sense to you. I trust your brain more than any of those overpaid consultants."

I was disarmed, flattered. He was acknowledging our history, my skill. I took the report home, spreading the pages across our dining table. It felt good to flex that part of my mind again, to see the elegant, broken logic in the data clusters. The next morning, I presented him with concise notes, pointing out the flawed testing parameters.

He scanned the paper, his brow furrowing in a convincing imitation of deep technical thought. Then he looked up, the relief on his face genuine. "Thank you, Tala. This is it. This is exactly the leverage I need. I knew you'd see what I couldn't." He kissed my forehead. "Would you mind presenting this to the tech team? Just an informal chat. If I go in there, it becomes a power play. If you go, it's just... brilliant insight. They'll listen to you."

And so, I did. I walked into a conference room of skeptical men and explained the logical fallacies in their report. The lead developer, Karl, initially bristled at being schooled, then his engineer's mind took over. "Huh," he grunted, peering at my notes. "She's right. The sample size is skewed. Classic oversight." He looked at me, not as the boss's wife, but as a peer. "You've got a sharp eye."

When I reported back, Amir was triumphant. "See? I told you. They respect competence. You're my secret weapon." He said it like a compliment, and I soaked it in. The "we" felt potent-his social intelligence directing my technical firepower.

But the dynamic began to take a troll on me. The "informal chats" became my standing meetings. The "translations" became me doing the actual analysis. He'd breeze in from a client lunch, smelling of expensive aftershave and deal-making, and drop a complex problem on my desk. "The investors are asking about cloud migration bottlenecks. I need a narrative by 4 PM. Something confident, with data. You know what sings to them."

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I woke up from emergency surgery to repair a torn retina, completely blind and alone. The first phone call I received wasn't one of concern. It was my mother, furious that I had embarrassed our family by missing a business brunch. Her next order was chilling. "Go to your husband. Get pregnant. A Hartman heir is the only thing that will secure our trust fund." My husband, Jakobe Hartman, is a man who views our marriage as a corporate merger. Our hundred-page prenup has a clause that strictly forbids any emotional entanglement. He was the last person I wanted to see me so helpless. But then I stumbled blindly out of my room and crashed right into him. He found me weak and pathetic. He overheard my mother's abusive voicemail. He even listened in silence as I spun pathetic lies on the phone, pretending he was a doting husband just to get her off my back. I expected him to walk away in disgust. Instead, he moved me to the penthouse suite and sent me home in an armored car. I dismissed it as a cold calculation to protect his public image. I thought I was finally safe in my own apartment. I had no idea he was watching me on a live security feed, just moments after ordering the hostile takeover of my family's entire company.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.2

Reborn At The Altar: Reject My Cruel Groom, Marry A Mysterious Tycoon

9.2

Lainey spent her last life destroying herself for Larry, only to become the woman he discarded most cruelly. He never loved her, never wanted her, and made no secret that his first love still owned his heart. On their wedding day, he abandoned Lainey at the altar for that woman, then later used Lainey as nothing more than a stepping stone for his company's rise. In the end, he even had her kidney ripped from her. Reborn at the very moment everything began, Lainey called off the wedding without hesitation. But after losing her, Larry begged desperately. Lainey shot him a cold look, then turned and walked straight into the arms of a powerful, aloof man, who stared down at Larry with pure contempt. "She's my wife now."

Billionaire Fantasy Romance

7.4

Reborn Surgeon: The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession

7.4

Standing on the edge of a limestone quarry in the pouring rain, I thought we were just having another family argument. Then my mother, Ardell, screamed that I’d let the life insurance lapse, and my brother, Hakeem, stepped out of the shadows with a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I told them I knew the truth—that Hakeem had cut the brake lines on my father’s car—but they didn't flinch. Instead, Hakeem shoved me hard, sending me tumbling into the abyss. I hit a jagged ledge thirty feet down, the sound of my spine snapping like a dry branch echoing through the rain. As I lay paralyzed and broken, my mother watched from above, asking if I was dead yet, before Hakeem whistled for the starving wild dogs that lived in the quarry floor. "Nature will clean up the mess," Hakeem said, walking away while the first set of teeth sank into my throat. The agony was a tidal wave, but the rage was hotter, a nuclear hatred for the family that stole my future and the daughter I’d never see grow up. I died in that dirt, consumed by fire and teeth, wondering how a mother could choose a car payment over her own child's life. But then, I gasped for air, sitting bolt upright in my old trailer bedroom. I looked at the calendar: May 12, 2014. I was seventeen again, but I wasn't the same girl. Inside this malnourished body was the mind of a world-class trauma surgeon and the elite hacker known as 'Phantom.' This time, I wasn't going to the quarry; I was going for their throats.

Billionaire Fantasy Modern

7.2

Sold To The Devil I Ruined

7.2

Fitzgerald Woodard was the "stray" I used to torment in prep school, a boy I once paid to kneel in the mud for my amusement. Now, the tables have turned, and he’s the billionaire who bought my father’s debt, dragging me into his mansion as a "personal asset" listed in a contract I never read. He didn't just want the money back; he wanted to see me break. He stood over me in the rain and told me he owned the very machines keeping my father alive, and with one flick of his thumb, he could stop his breathing forever. The nightmare escalated until I didn't recognize myself. He forced me to eat cold soup off the floor like an animal and gripped my hand over a heavy hammer, forcing me to crush a young guard's bones just to prove I was as much of a monster as he was. His childhood sweetheart, a nurse I once humiliated, stood in the shadows, whispering that I was nothing more than a used-up toy he was already bored of. I lay on the cold marble, shivering from a fever he refused to treat, realizing that the curse he placed on me years ago had finally come true. Every act of cruelty I had ever committed was being repaid with interest, and the man I once looked down on was now the only god I had left to pray to. Suddenly, he threw me out into the freezing night with nothing but rags on my back and a shattered phone. The hospital called with an ultimatum: fifty thousand dollars by noon, or they pull the plug on my father’s life support. Standing barefoot on the biting asphalt, I watched his black SUV disappear into the dark. I have nine hours to save the only person I love, and only one way to get the money. I have to go back and kneel before the devil I created.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.0

The Barren Ex-Wife's Revenge

8.0

Three years of blame, one day of freedom and a lifetime of revenge. Elena Torres was called barren. For three years, her billionaire husband Jack and his cruel family made her believe that her inability to conceive made her worthless. After a bitter divorce and a single reckless night with a stranger who awakens the fire inside her, Elena vanished. Years later, she returns With a new name, wealthy, and twin children whose father remains a mystery. She is no longer the discarded wife. She is now power itself. "Let's find a new daddy for mummy," One of her twin sons said when Jack was on his knees, begging. "That's our daddy." The other twin points across the room, to the most feared billionaire in the world, who freezes the moment his eyes lock on Elena. "We meet again my Sunray."

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.8

The Billionaire and the chef

9.8

"I didn't marry you for love, Elara. I married you for the land." Five years ago, Elara Sterling wore a gold mask and shared a night of forbidden passion with Silas Vane, the "Ice King" of Seattle. Then, she vanished. Now, she's back-not as a socialite, but as a struggling mother desperate to save her son. But Silas isn't the man she remembers. He's cold, powerful, and he just bought her father's debt. The terms of the "Sterling Clause" are simple: Marry him for one year, and her debts are erased. But there's a catch. Silas doesn't just want the Sterling Port; he wants the son he never knew he had. As Elara steps into a world of vipers and corporate sabotage, she must decide: Is she a wife, a prisoner, or the only woman powerful enough to melt the Ice King's heart? In the game of power, love is the ultimate hostile takeover.

Billionaire Modern Romance

To Become The CEO I Must Marry The Nerd Girl

Chapter 6

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