Fake Marriage After A Cheater

Chapter 1

Harold

Silent, firm, and strict; those are just some of the words my employees use to define me as a boss. 

Being the CEO of the renowned New York-based TechGeek Technologies, and a successful software creator to boot, ensuring my company’s market position is my top priority.

Despite being tied up to a busy schedule, I still enjoy my life as a bachelor. My parents worry about my personal life though since I haven’t gotten into any serious relationships at all. And they, especially my mother, never fail to remind me how I’m gradually leaving my prime years behind. Unfortunately, this has encouraged my mom to start meddling in my personal life, doing her best to find me a suitable partner. 

Don’t get me wrong... I love her, of course. It’s just annoying to hear all her grumblings about how and who she’ll set me up with on dates. 

My phone rings, and I look at the caller.

Great! It’s my mother again, I groan as I answer my phone. 

“Hi, son!” she greets me cheerfully. 

She starts by asking how my date went last night, and I can sense her disappointment upon hearing my response. 

One thing I can say about my mom, she’s persistent. She doesn’t let my “not a chance” discourage her from helping me find a future wife. 

In fact, she’s calling to let me know she’s already set me up on another date for tonight! 

Ending the call, I heave a sigh and massage my forehead. 

It sometimes gets irritating. I’ve asked myself numerous times why I even put up with it. I’m a successful adult — I’ve lived on my own for several years now, why do I humor my mother this way? 

Simple. I love her and if I can indulge her little whims, I would. She doesn’t ask for much from me as a son in the best of times.

Honestly, no one has managed to catch my attention, even with the numerous blind dates I’ve had already. After going to so many, their faces and names all blur in my mind. I can’t even remember what they look like and what their names are.

Now, here I am, attending another date. 

In front of me is a lady wearing a red burlap sack dress, paired with red shoes, sporting red nail polish, and flaming red lipstick to boot. If you ask me, she looks horrible. A walking traffic light.

Is it red flag day? I shake my head as I chuckle to myself.

The moment I see her, she proudly tells me she made the dress herself. I just smile enigmatically, and say politely, “I never would have guessed.”

It’s clear to me she’s not that smart. She always starts the conversation by asking me about things that are too obvious. I should have known she’d be this way. With her obvious clothes, her obvious questions, and her intentional display of her obviously flat chest.  

The scene is horrendous, and I wind it up as soon as possible. 

Afterward, I drive to my favorite coffee shop, Dulce, to drink my coffee of choice, an Americano. I instantly smell the strong aroma of coffee as soon as I enter. It’s so alluring.

The guy on the counter recognizes me and greets me with a nod. “The usual, Mr. Hanson?” he asks as he starts brewing some coffee.

“Yes, please ” I reply, handing over my credit card.

After receiving my order, I sit at my usual place by the window where I can watch the people passing by and going about their business. I take a sip of my coffee, and I love the way the heat scorches a line down my throat. 

This place is really peaceful, and I’m enjoying being alone with my thoughts. Well, it was peaceful until I hear raised voices coming from the small office at the back of the shop, and it sounds like they’re having a fight. The door in the office is slightly open, and I can see a black woman arguing with someone. 

Her back is facing me, and I can’t see her face. She has a caramel-colored skin and black curly shoulder-length hair. My eyes wander over her black skirt and I can’t help but stare at her perfectly tight ass. I wonder how it feels to squeeze those round orbs.

The woman is wearing a different uniform from the rest, so I’m guessing she’s either the manager or the owner. Judging by the way she’s acting,  she’s seriously angry. 

She suddenly storms outside the office,  a man following close behind.

The guy has an aggressive, intimidating look on his face, like he wants to hurt someone. Without finishing my coffee, I follow them straight to the parking lot beside the coffee shop.

I hide behind one of the cars, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. I have this niggling worry for the woman, and I want to make sure she’s safe. I do have a heart you know. If I can help someone, I will.

I wince as I see the woman slap his face. This is the reason why I don’t do dates or relationships at all. Too much drama.

I’ve had my fair share of women before, and everything always ends up too complicated. I don’t want a relationship and all the responsibilities that come with it. For me, a one-night stand is enough. 

The pair continue their fight, and, this time, the woman knees the guy in his balls hard. I reach out for mine and cup them unconsciously. 

That has got to hurt. I silently sympathize in my mind.

The guy’s crouching on the floor, clutching his balls. I feel bad for him, as I listen to him shouting in pain. I hope the action doesn’t have any lasting consequences. 

I see the woman get into her car and speed up. A few seconds later, a loud crashing sound echoes through the parking lot. I run to the noise, and I see the woman’s car smashed into a tree. 

I run toward her, and see she’s losing consciousness. 

“Miss! Stay with me! Come on! Don’t close your eyes! Please!” I shout at her as I fish my phone from my pocket, and call 911.

As soon as I reach them, I immediately explain to the operator that there has been a car accident, and a woman is seriously injured. I give them the location, and wait.