Never Underestimate The Good Husband

The Business- Marriage Proposal

Six days.

That was how long I had spent staring at the divorce papers.

They sat on the kitchen counter every morning like an accusation.

I had signed nothing.

Not because I didn’t understand what Tasha wanted.

I did.

That was the problem.

I understood her perfectly.

I just didn’t understand how the woman who once called me her safe place had become the person making me feel like I was a burden.

Maybe I’d been holding on to a version of her that no longer existed.

Or maybe I’d been holding on because accepting the truth meant admitting that my marriage was over.

By the sixth day, I was exhausted from thinking about it.

So I did what I always did when life became unbearable.

I worked.

My third job ended at four in the afternoon.

I had another shift at six.

Which left me exactly two hours to eat something, shower, and pretend I wasn’t falling apart.

I stopped at a small café near my workplace.

I ordered coffee and sat in the corner with my laptop.

For the first time in weeks, I opened the old business proposal I’d been working on.

The numbers weren’t terrible.

The idea wasn’t dead.

I had spent months convincing myself that my business was finished because I’d failed once.

Maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe I simply needed another shot.

I was so focused on the screen that I didn’t notice the woman walking toward my table.

Until……

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

I looked up.

She was stunning.

Not the soft, delicate kind of beautiful.

She had the kind of presence that made people move out of her way without being asked.

Dark hair fell over one shoulder, perfectly styled. Her cream blazer was fitted, her heels sharp enough to make me question whether she had ever walked anywhere slowly in her life.

I glanced around.

“There are plenty of empty seats.”

“I know.”

She pointed at mine.

“That’s why I asked you to move.”

I blinked.

“You asked?”

Her eyebrow lifted.

“Do I need to make it a request?”

I almost smiled.

“No.”

“Good.”

I closed my laptop.

“Here.”

She pulled the chair out and sat down.

I stood there for a moment.

“You’re welcome.”

She looked up.

“For what?”

I stared at her.

“You know what? Never mind.”

I picked up my coffee and moved to another table.

I heard her laugh under her breath.

I should have been irritated.

Instead, I found myself amused.

That was unusual.

Most people annoyed me lately.

She seemed to enjoy it.

I opened my laptop again.

Five minutes later, I heard her voice.

“You’re Victor, aren’t you?”

My fingers stopped.

I looked over.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know who you are.”

“That’s reassuring.”

She ignored my sarcasm.

“Victor Hale.”

I closed my laptop.

“Who are you?”

“Chiara Moretti.”

The name immediately registered.

Chiara Moretti.

Businesswoman.

Founder of Moretti Holdings.

Youngest daughter of one of the most influential business families in the city.

I’d read about her.

“Ah.”

She smiled.

“So you do know me.”

“Everyone knows you.”

“Not everyone.”

She tilted her head.

“Apparently you didn’t.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With?”

“Trying to keep my life from collapsing.”

For the first time, her expression changed.

Only slightly.

“Fair enough.”

She took a sip of her coffee.

Then she glanced at my laptop.

“That’s your old business?”

I stiffened.

“How do you know about that?”

“I did my research.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m considering investing in it.”

I stared at her.

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder.

“You built a logistics technology company. It grew quickly. Then your primary partner became involved in a legal investigation, contracts were frozen, and the business collapsed.”

I stared at the folder.

“You really did your research.”

“I told you.”

She opened it.

“Your business wasn’t the problem.”

I leaned forward.

“What was?”

“Capital.”

I frowned.

“You ran out of money at the worst possible time.”

“That’s what happens when investors disappear.”

“Exactly.”

She slid a document toward me.

“You had a viable business. You just didn’t have the resources to keep it alive.”

I stared at the numbers.

She was right.

I hated that she was right.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to business.”

“Always.”

“Usually.”

She leaned back.

“I want to make you an offer.”

My eyes narrowed.

“What kind?”

“A personal one.”

I immediately became suspicious.

She smiled.

“Relax. I’m not trying to sleep with you.”

I nearly choked on my coffee.

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“You were.”

“I absolutely wasn’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I shook my head.

“Fine. What’s the offer?”

She folded her hands on the table.

“I want you to marry me.”

Silence.

I stared at her.

She stared back.

Then I laughed.

I couldn’t help it.

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“You’ve known me for twenty minutes.”

“Thirty-two.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I didn’t say it was romantic.”

“That’s because it’s insane.”

She sighed.

“My parents are driving me insane.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“They’ve decided I’m wasting my life.”

I said nothing.

“They think because I’m successful, I should already be married. Every family dinner turns into an interrogation. Every business event becomes an opportunity for them to introduce me to some wealthy man’s son.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“So you want me to marry you to annoy your parents?”

“Not exactly.”

She pushed another document toward me.

“I want a marriage that looks convincing enough to make them stop.”

I looked at the document.

“And what do I get?”

Her eyes held mine.

“I’ll fund your business.”

My amusement disappeared.

“How much?”

“Enough to restart it properly.”

I stared at her.

“You’d invest that much in someone you met in a café?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why me?”

“Because I’ve been watching your business for longer than you’ve been watching mine.”

That caught me off guard.

She continued.

“You built something from nothing. You understand the industry. Your previous failure wasn’t because you lacked ability.”

She paused.

“You lacked money.”

I looked away.

Nobody had said it like that before.

Everyone else had treated my failure like proof that I’d lost whatever made me successful.

Chiara treated it like a problem that could be solved.

“And the marriage?” I asked.

“One year.”

“One year?”

“We get married. We maintain the appearance of a real marriage. We attend events together. We deal with our families. After one year, we divorce quietly.”

I stared at her.

“You’ve already planned the divorce?”

“I like contracts with exit clauses.”

Despite myself, I laughed.

She smiled.

“There’s the man I was looking for.”

“What man?”

“The one who doesn’t look like he’s been dead inside for six weeks.”

My smile faded.

She noticed.

“You’re going through a divorce.”

“How did you know?”

“Your ring.”

I looked down.

I hadn’t even realized I was still wearing it.

Chiara’s expression softened.

“I’m not asking you to make a decision today.”

“I can’t marry someone I barely know.”

“Good.”

She stood.

“That means you’re thinking.”

She picked up her bag.

“I’ll give you three days.”

“Three days?”

“Yes.”

“Why three?”

“Because if you need longer than that, you’re going to overthink yourself into another decade of misery.”

I almost smiled.

“You’re very confident.”

“I have to be.”

She walked away.

Then stopped.

“Victor.”

I looked at her.

“You should know something.”

“What?”

“I don’t need a husband.”

She gave me a knowing look.

“I need a shield.”

Then she left.

I sat there long after she’d gone.

My eyes drifted back to the documents.

Marriage.

Business funding.

A fresh start.

It sounded ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

Yet for the first time since Tasha had left, I wasn’t thinking about what I’d lost.

I was thinking about what I could rebuild.

…..

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.

I stared at the ceiling.

Tasha’s words came back to me.

Trying doesn’t pay bills.

I hated that sentence.

Not because it was completely wrong.

Because part of me feared she was right.

I got out of bed and went to the kitchen.

The divorce papers were still there.

I picked them up.

For weeks, I’d been terrified of signing them.

Now, strangely, I wasn’t.

Maybe because someone had finally reminded me that losing one chapter didn’t mean losing the entire story.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I answered.

“Hello?”

“Good morning.”

Chiara.

I sighed.

“You’re calling awfully early.”

“I like being productive.”

“I have three jobs.”

“Then you should appreciate productivity.”

I smiled despite myself.

“So?”

“So what?”

“The proposal.”

“I need time.”

“I gave you three days.”

“It’s been twelve hours.”

“Exactly.”

I laughed.

Then she said something that wiped the smile from my face.

“Victor, I’m not offering you charity.”

“I know.”

“I’m offering you an opportunity.”

“I know.”

“And if you accept, I expect you to rebuild your company yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There was silence.

Then she said,

“Good.”

I leaned against the counter.

“And if I say yes?”

“Then we get married.”

“You really are serious.”

“Very.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll find another way to deal with my parents.”

“What happens to my business?”

“That depends on whether I still think it’s worth investing in.”

I nodded.

Fair enough.

Then she added,

“And Victor?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t agree because you’re desperate.”

I frowned.

“Agree because you’re ready to become the man you were before you started believing everyone who told you that you’d failed.”

The call ended.

I stood there staring at my phone.

For the first time in months, someone wasn’t asking me what I had lost.

She was asking me what I was going to do next.

I looked at the divorce papers.

Then at the old business proposal on my laptop.

And finally, at the message Chiara had just sent.

Three days. Don’t make me chase you.

I smiled.

For some reason, I already knew she was going to be trouble.

I just hadn’t realized yet that she was about to become the best kind of trouble I’d ever had.