Forced into an arranged marriage to save my family’s business, I expected awkward small talk on my wedding night. But then Adriana gave me an order: “From now on, you must do everything I tell you.” Was this a joke? No. It was a power play — and if I refused, my family would lose everything.
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The weight of my father’s words settled on my shoulders like a stone. “Son, I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was any other way,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically devoid of authority.
“You’re certain the only way to save the business is for me to marry some woman I’ve never met?” The disbelief in my tone was impossible to hide.
He sighed heavily. “Adriana is Victor’s daughter. The merger with his company is the only thing that can save us now. And he’s… traditional. He wants to unite the families.”
“So I’m just a bargaining chip?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
“James, please understand—”
“No, Dad. I understand perfectly.” My jaw tightened. “You built this company, made all the decisions that led to this point, and now I have to clean up your mess by selling myself like some medieval prince.”
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His face fell. “Just meet Adriana before you decide.”
I wanted to refuse. But the desperation in his eyes made me hesitate.
“Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll meet her. But I’m not promising anything.”
When I met Adriana a few days later, she was breathtaking—poised, confident, with a voice like honey and eyes that assessed everything in seconds.
“This situation is unconventional, but I think we can make it work,” she said over dinner, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Let’s get better acquainted first. What would you like to know about me, James?”
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Her sharp wit and effortless charm caught me off guard. She was intelligent, engaging—so much so that I found myself rethinking my opposition.
“She’s incredible,” I told my father the next day.
Relief washed over his face. “So you’ll do it?”
I hesitated, but the hope in his eyes tipped the scales.
“Yes,” I finally said. “I’ll marry Adriana.”
The wedding felt more like a corporate merger than a celebration. The vows were carefully crafted terms, the kiss a formal agreement. By the time we were alone in the grand presidential suite, exhaustion weighed on me.
Adriana kicked off her heels and perched on the edge of the bed. I adjusted my tie, unsure what came next in this strange arrangement.
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Then she locked eyes with me. “From now on, you must do everything I tell you.”
I laughed, expecting a punchline. “Right. And what’s your first command, Your Highness?”
Her expression remained unchanged. “I’m hungry. Go get me a burger from the McDonald’s on Grant Street. Walk there.”
I blinked. “It’s almost midnight. Grant Street is nearly two miles away.”
“I’m aware.” She leaned back, her smile ice-cold. “Better get going.”
I waited for her to say she was joking. She never did.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious, James. My father only agreed to this marriage because your father promised you’d do whatever I wanted. That was the deal. So, you can either be my servant… or watch your family go bankrupt.”
Stunned, I realized I had underestimated her completely. The charming, easygoing woman from dinner had vanished, replaced by someone ruthless. Someone I couldn’t refuse without risking everything.
“Fine,” I said, forcing a tight smile. “One burger coming up.”
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In the elevator, I pulled out my phone and called a taxi. I might be trapped in this marriage, but I wouldn’t be completely powerless.
The next morning set the tone for what would become my new normal.
“Press my blue suit,” Adriana instructed at dawn. “Then make coffee. Black, one sugar.”
“I’m not your butler.”
She smirked. “No, you’re my husband. Which means you’re whatever I need you to be.”
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Every day, new demands. Washing her car by hand. Picking up her dry cleaning. Massaging her feet after work. I wasn’t a husband—I was an accessory.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked as I polished her designer shoes one evening.
“Because I can,” she said simply. “What could be better than having a man who caters to my every need?”
She thought she was breaking me. Instead, she was teaching me. Every demand revealed her routines, her weaknesses.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to my father.
“She’s turned me into her personal servant.”
His face fell. “I had no idea, son. But the contract with Victor…”
“Can’t be broken without bankrupting us. I know.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, a plan forming. “I’ll handle Adriana.”
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Installing tiny wireless cameras was easy. Within two weeks, I had hours of footage—her treating me like a servant, threatening my family, mocking me to her friends.
Then came the breaking point.
“I want sushi,” she announced one rainy evening. “From Akira. Walk there.”
“That’s three miles away.”
“So? Take an umbrella.”
“No.”
The word hung in the air. She slowly turned, eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”
“I said no.”
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Her face flushed with anger. “You don’t say no to me. Ever. Have you forgotten what happens if you don’t play along?”
“Go ahead,” I challenged. “Call your father. Tell him how disappointed you are.”
She smirked and dialed. “Daddy? We have a problem. James is being difficult. I think we need to reconsider—”
“Adriana.” Her father’s voice was ice cold. “What the hell have you been doing?”
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She paled. “What do you mean?”
“James sent me videos. Dozens of them. I had no idea this was what you had in mind. You’re getting divorced. Those were his conditions: a divorce that leaves our business agreement intact. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, turning to me in shock. “You recorded me?”
I nodded. “Every moment. Every demand.”
“Please, you can’t do this to me!” she pleaded. “It will ruin my image.”
I smiled. “I’ll consider staying. But only if you obey my demands.”
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For two weeks, Adriana got a taste of her own medicine. Fetching my coffee. Following my schedule. Every order I gave, she obeyed through gritted teeth.
Then, when my lawyers had everything ready, I left divorce papers on the kitchen counter.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking them up.
“Divorce papers. Our marriage is over.”
“But you said—”
“I lied.”
Her eyes filled with rage and disbelief. “You played me.”
“You played yourself.”
She had no choice but to sign.
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An hour later, her perfectly crafted Instagram post appeared: “After much reflection, James and I have decided to part ways. We remain committed to our families’ shared business interests and wish each other well.”
The door closed behind her, and for the first time in months, I could breathe freely again.
No contract, no obligation, no business deal was worth surrendering control of my life.