What in the world is that pile of ashes by the bedroom door?!
He didn't even want to imagine what the kitchen or bedroom might look like.
How can anyone live like this? Much less a woman? Aren't women supposed to be more organized? He frowned, trying to reason it out. Maybe she doesn't have cleaning tools yet. Yes. That must be it.
Comforted by his own hopeful theory, he stepped gingerly inside, his shoes crunching over what might have been paper, or something far worse.
Then he spotted a vacuum cleaner. Behind the sofa. Fully functional.
His eye twitched. If it's right there and working… why not just use it?!
This was no longer a surprise visit. It was a psychological endurance test.
Olaedo, meanwhile, noticed the stiff look on his face and felt heat creep up her neck. She tried to maintain her pride. It's my home. I'll keep it how I want. There's no need to feel ashamed.
But seeing him standing there, frozen like a statue, her confidence crumbled. Even she had to admit, the ashes were a bit too much.
With a reluctant sigh, she grabbed the vacuum cleaner and began tidying up.
Chibuzor watched her red ears and flustered movements, a low chuckle escaping him. Shaking his head, he finally moved forward. Even if this marriage was fake, for better or worse apparently started now.
He picked up bits of trash one by one, holding each like it was radioactive.
"Hey! What are you doing? Just wait outside. I'll be done soon," Olaedo protested, clearly mortified.
Chibuzor glanced up, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "If I wait for you, we might still be here five days from now. Seriously, Olaedo, how can your house be this dirty?"
Olaedo's face flushed an even deeper red as she waved him off. "Fine, sure. Do whatever you want."
But to her surprise, he actually did.
Chibuzor kept collecting the trash, still using his ridiculous two finger technique, though somehow managing to move fast despite his clear disgust. When he was done, he calmly turned to the mountain of clothes on the sofa, folding and stacking them with almost military precision.
Five hours later, the entire house looked like it had just been renovated. They'd cleaned the living room, kitchen, and both bedrooms. Even the toilets, though Olaedo had firmly handled those herself. Chibuzor's two finger technique clearly had its limits.
Finally done, he collapsed onto the clean sofa with a sigh, pulling out his laptop and diving straight into work as if he hadn't just fought a domestic war.
Olaedo quietly packed her things, but her mind wasn't still. A question kept circling, stubborn and sharp.
Out of all the women in the world, why me?
She wanted to ask, but something about it felt too personal. Then she remembered her mother's advice, kindness and communication were free, even in a loveless arrangement. She didn't plan on falling for him, but a little friendship wouldn't break the contract.
"CEO Arinze," she began hesitantly, her voice softer than usual. "There's something I need to know."
Chibuzor looked up immediately, frowning. That formal tone again. If anyone overheard her calling him CEO Arinze in private, their act would crumble.
"Don't be so formal," he said, leaning back. "In public, call me something that fits the part, honey, dear, hubby, whatever doesn't make you cringe too much. In private, just call me Chibuzor. It'll help you get used to it. If you slip in public, it'll still sound natural. But please, let's save the mushy nicknames for emergencies."
Olaedo rolled her eyes but couldn't hide a small smile. "Alright then… Chibuzor," she said, testing the name. "Why did you pick me out of all the eligible women in the world?"
Chibuzor froze.
Should he tell her the truth, that she hadn't even made the list?
Would she get angry? Probably. But what was the point of lying? She deserved to know exactly where she stood.
"I made a list of women who fit my taste," he said finally, his tone blunt but steady. "You weren't on it. I asked my housekeeper to arrange meetings with them, but none showed up. Mostly because he didn't tell them who I was or what I wanted. If he had, I'm sure plenty would've come. With no other options, he came across your scandal, did a little research, and reached out to you. Surprisingly, you agreed to meet."
Silence.
Olaedo just stared at him, too stunned to respond. Who chooses a wife like this?
Yet… his honesty was oddly comforting. For days she'd wondered if he had some hidden motive, an obsession, a revenge plan, something darker. But this? This was just cold logic. Predictable. Manageable.
"Okay," she said simply, her tone light. "That's a relief."
Chibuzor blinked. "A relief?"
He'd braced for anger, maybe an argument, but not calm acceptance.
Olaedo tilted her head slightly, a small smile curving her lips. "Is everything a business to you? You made a list, came up with a catchy proposal, wrote a loophole proof contract, and arranged an entire marriage process that should've taken a month, in one day."
Chibuzor frowned slightly. "What's funny about that?"
To him, this was common sense. Efficiency wasn't strange, it was survival.
"It's normal to stay organized," he said matter of factly. "I've always wondered how people function without planning. It's probably why the top feels so spacious while the bottom stays overcrowded. People dream big but never plan for it."
Olaedo nodded, her amusement softening into thought. "True. I might look disorganized, but when it comes to work, I plan years ahead. If you're not consciously planning to succeed, you're unconsciously planning to fail, and fail hard."
"Exactly!" Chibuzor's eyes brightened. For once, he didn't feel like he had to explain his mindset. She understood, completely. Two CEOs, speaking the same language, their words clicking like gears in perfect motion.
It wasn't love.
But for the first time that day, it felt a little like understanding.