He Demanded a Prenup, So I Bought His Entire Empire

Tonight was my third date with Derek, and it was going to be my last. On our first two dates, I deliberately hid my background as an heiress. I wore cheap off-the-rack sundresses and told him I was just an entry-level marketing coordinator making four thousand a month. He had sneered and said, "Four grand? In New York, that barely covers groceries." "Don't worry, though," he added smugly. "I make two million a year. I have more than enough to take care of you." I almost thought I had found someone genuine—until he laid down his conditions. "Of course, my financial support comes with rules. Once we're married, you'll hand over your entire paycheck to me, and I'll give you a fixed monthly allowance." I laughed on the inside. My family held controlling stakes in three publicly traded conglomerates. The quarterly net profit from any single one of them was more than Derek could earn in ten lifetimes. And he seriously thought he could control me? Derek was already seated by the window. When I walked in, he frowned slightly, his eyes scanning my plain black dress with undisguised distaste. "You really don't know how to dress," he began, delivering his critique before I even sat down. "The cut isn't terrible, but wearing cheap fabric like that to a restaurant like this is embarrassing." I sat across from him with a polite smile. "It's comfortable." "Comfortable?" Derek scoffed. "Amber, you need to elevate your taste. Once you're with me, throw that garbage away. It's humiliating." The waiter handed us the menus, but Derek took mine before I could even open it. "We'll start with the caviar, follow with the A5 Wagyu, and bring a bottle of Romanée-Conti," he ordered smoothly. Then, as if tossing me a bone, he glanced my way. "Bring her a side salad. A woman shouldn't eat heavy at night anyway. You need to keep your figure." I kept my smile intact. "A salad is fine." While we waited, Derek pulled a manila folder from his leather briefcase and slid it across the table. "My lawyer drafted this Prenuptial Agreement. Look it over. If everything looks good, we can sign the paperwork and get our marriage license next week." I opened the folder. Every single clause was a masterpiece of entitlement: Clause 1: Upon marriage, the wife must quit her job and become a full-time homemaker, receiving a monthly "living allowance" of two thousand dollars. Clause 2: All assets and income under the wife's name must be transferred to a joint account fully managed and controlled by the husband. Clause 3: The wife is required to give birth to at least two sons to ensure the continuation of the family lineage. I flipped to the signature page and looked up at him. "Is this your idea, or your parents'?" "Does it matter?" Derek leaned back, looking at me like an emperor addressing a peasant. "Amber, let's be realistic here. Given your ordinary background and your modest four-thousand-dollar salary, marrying me is the biggest upgrade of your life." "This agreement is simply to protect my assets from being targeted by you or your family. You should be understanding." I slowly closed the folder. "Derek, we've known each other for a month. This is our third date. What makes you so certain I want to marry you?" He looked at me as if I had just told a hilarious joke. "Come on. Do you honestly think any other guy pulling in two million a year would look twice at someone like you?" The waiter served the steaks. Derek cut into his meat and continued, "I'm already planning the wedding. Nothing too lavish—twenty tables should do it." "You can rent a dress. Buying one is a total waste of money." "I've already picked out a ring. A five-thousand-dollar diamond is more than enough for you." He paused, as if remembering a minor chore. "Oh, and I'll give your parents ten thousand dollars as a token of goodwill. That's more than generous for people in their position. Tell them not to be greedy or go bragging to their neighbors." Derek took a sip of his wine, radiating superiority. "I read the agreement," I said evenly. "I have a few questions." Derek lifted his chin. "Go on." "First, I have a degree in marketing and I'm good at what I do. Why must I give up my career to be a stay-at-home housewife?" "A woman's highest purpose is her family," Derek frowned, visibly annoyed by my pushback. "Taking care of me and running my household is where your value lies. Besides, I make two million a year. Why would my wife need to be out there working?" "Second, why does my own paycheck need to be turned over to an account that only you manage?" "To prevent sneaky motives!" Derek's tone hardened. "I see it all the time. Women get married, siphon off their husband's money, and squirrel away assets behind his back. I'm just being proactive." "What, were you planning on hoarding cash for yourself?" The contempt in his eyes was naked. "Third, I have to produce two sons," I pressed on. "What if I have daughters?" "Then you keep having babies," Derek said matter-of-factly. "Until we have sons. The Cole family line cannot end with me. Don't worry, I can afford to raise them. Your only job is to bear them."I nodded calmly and didn't argue. "The food is getting cold. Let's eat." Satisfied by my apparent submission, Derek's expression softened. "Good girl. I'm glad you can see reason. Stick with me, and I'll make sure you're taken care of. That two-thousand-dollar monthly allowance will be plenty, as long as you stop buying cheap junk and drugstore makeup." The rest of dinner was just Derek narrating his grandiose five-year plan. When the meal ended, Derek signaled the waiter and pulled out his black card with a flourish. The waiter smiled politely. "Sir, the lady already settled the bill earlier." Derek froze, turning to me. "You paid?" "Yeah. You treated last time, so it was my turn," I said with an easy smile. His jaw tightened. His male ego had clearly taken a hit. "I told you I'd take care of you. You don't need to pay for anything." "Save your little paycheck for pocket change," he muttered, glancing down at the itemized receipt. His brow furrowed instantly. "Wait, did you order a second bottle of that wine? Do you have any idea how much Romanée-Conti costs? You have zero financial sense." "I saw you enjoying it," I said, picking up my purse. "Shall we?" As we walked out, his phone rang. His arrogant posture instantly shifted into eager deference. "Mom... Yeah, we just finished dinner... Her?" "She's alright. A bit unrefined, but I can train her... You're in town?" "Sure, let me see if she's free tomorrow." Hanging up, he turned to me with an air of command. "My mother wants to meet you. Lunch tomorrow. Be ready." "I have a meeting with a client tomorrow at noon—" "Cancel it," Derek cut me off. "What client could possibly be more important than my mother? Eleven o'clock tomorrow, I'll pick you up in front of your office." "And dress appropriately this time. Don't wear something like this." He drove me back to the cramped, dilapidated apartment complex where I supposedly lived. Looking out at the dimly lit, crumbling stairwell, he let out a heavy sigh. "Move out as soon as possible. How does anyone even live here? Once we're married, you can stay at my bachelor pad while the new house gets renovated." I smiled, thanked him, and headed upstairs. Inside the modest, fifty-square-meter flat—which actually sat on a hyper-prime piece of Manhattan land worth over ten million dollars—my phone buzzed. It was a text from my executive assistant. "Ms. Vance, regarding the 10:00 AM investment pitch tomorrow with Apex Dynamics and their CEO, Richard Cole—should we reschedule?" I typed back: "Keep it as scheduled. Also, run a comprehensive background check on Derek Cole's mother, Eleanor. I want every single detail." "Right away, Ms. Vance." Derek had no idea that Apex Dynamics—the tech startup he and his father were desperate to save—had its fate resting entirely in the hands of the "four-thousand-a-month" girl he wanted to domesticate.The next morning, I wore another plain, unbranded dress. At ten sharp, I walked into the high-floor executive boardroom. Sitting across the long glass table was the CEO of Apex Dynamics, Richard Cole—Derek's father. His company's latest R&D project had burned through its capital, leaving them on the verge of collapse. I was the only venture capitalist in the city with enough cash to bail them out. The meeting went smoothly. Richard Cole spoke with deferential, almost desperate humility. I asked a few sharp questions about their cash flow and inspected their balance sheet. I already knew the verdict. The patent had potential, but the management team was weak, and Richard Cole was small-minded and shortsighted. As the meeting wrapped up, Richard leaned forward nervously. "Ms. Vance, what do you think about our proposal...?" "I need some time to consider," I said, closing my portfolio. "By the way, Mr. Cole, I hear your son works in investment banking here in the city?" Richard blinked, surprised, before breaking into a proud grin. "Ah, yes! My boy, Derek. Very talented, very sharp. Do you know him, Ms. Vance?" "I've heard of him," I said, glancing at my watch. "I have a lunch date. We'll wrap things up here." At eleven, I stood on the curb outside the small digital marketing agency where I supposedly worked. Derek's BMW was already idling by the sidewalk. He was tapping his steering wheel, visibly annoyed. When he saw me, he looked me up and down, his face darkening. "You're wearing that to meet my mother?" "What's wrong with it?" I glanced down. "It's clean and neat." "You..." He swallowed his temper with a sharp breath. "Whatever. Get in. My mother hates being kept waiting." He booked a private room at an upscale French bistro. Derek's mother, Eleanor Cole, was already seated at the head of the table. Her cold, calculating eyes raked over me the moment I stepped inside. "Hello, Mrs. Cole," I greeted politely. She responded with a dismissive hum through her nose. Once I sat down, she got straight to the interrogation. "Amber, isn't it? What do your parents do?" "They're ordinary working-class folks," I replied, sticking to my cover story. "I hear you make barely four thousand a month?" Her eyebrows drew together in disgust. "In this city, what does that even buy? After you marry Derek, are you planning on leeching off him entirely?" "Mom, don't be so harsh," Derek chimed in half-heartedly, shooting me a pointed glare that urged me to apologize and submit. "Mrs. Cole, I have a steady job and I can support myself," I said calmly. "You call that little gig a job?" Eleanor scoffed. "Once the wedding is done, resign immediately. Your only focus should be taking care of Derek and giving our family grandchildren as soon as possible." "I also hear you have a younger brother." She leaned forward, her gaze icy. "Let's get one thing straight: you will not be funneling my son's hard-earned money to your maiden family. A married daughter belongs to her husband's household. Your priorities need to be here." The food arrived. As Eleanor ate, the lecture continued. "For the wedding, a simple gathering will do." "No expensive photo shoots. That's just throwing cash out the window." "And the family gift will be ten thousand dollars. Not a penny more. Girls these days are so shallow, always scheming for money." I ate in silence, not bothering to argue. Eleanor clicked her tongue at my lack of reaction, turning to Derek. "Look at how dull she is. How is she ever going to help you network? You're going to have to discipline her thoroughly." "I know, Mom," Derek replied, casually placing a piece of fish on my plate. "Eat up, Amber. Look how skinny you are." When the meal ended, Eleanor pulled a thick envelope from her designer handbag and tossed it onto the table in front of me. "A welcome gift. Take it." I opened it. It was ten crisp hundred-dollar bills. "Thank you, Mrs. Cole." "Mhm." Eleanor stood up, smoothing her skirt. "My flight home is this afternoon. Derek, drive me to the airport. Amber, you can take the subway back. Try to be a little sharper next time." They walked out together. Standing outside the restaurant, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "David, that share-purchase agreement for Apex Dynamics I had you draft? Send it to my inbox." "Yes, exactly. Start buying up the minority shares from the retail investors." Three days later, Derek asked me to tour a luxury condo with him. "Look at this view! Look at the layout!" Derek spread his arms wide, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows. "This will be our home." "I did the math. The down payment is about a million and a half. I'll cover the mortgage, and your paycheck will handle the groceries and your personal expenses." "Naturally, the deed will only be in my name for now, since I'm putting up the down payment." I ran my fingers across the expensive marble island. "Will your parents be living here too?" "Of course! I'm their only son. I have to bring them here to enjoy life." "You'd better start learning how to cook my mom's favorite dishes. She's very particular." "Oh, and the master bedroom goes to them. We'll take the guest suite. Older people are light sleepers and need their quiet." I looked out at the sprawling skyline and smiled faintly. "Sounds lovely." A week later, Derek called me in a full-blown panic. "Amber, we're in huge trouble! My dad's company just lost its lead investor!" "It was basically a done deal! Out of nowhere, some mystery fund swooped in and killed the term sheet! Their cash flow is completely choked!" On my end of the line, I was quietly reviewing the newly acquired share certificates. "Is it really that bad? Is there anything I can do?" "You? What could you possibly do?" Derek snapped, his voice tight with frustration. "Forget it, it's useless talking to you. I'm just stressed. Come meet me for dinner tonight. Our usual spot." That evening, Derek looked hollow and exhausted, downing glass after glass of scotch. "Amber... if... if my family goes under, would you still marry me?" He stared at me with bloodshot eyes. "Why wouldn't I? You're so capable," I said, pouring him some water. "Right! I still have my career!" He latched onto the words like a drowning man clutching a lifebuoy. "Even if my dad's company tanks, I still make two million a year! I can still give you a good life!" "Trust me, I will bounce back!" He lunged forward and grabbed my hands. "So, please, just sign the prenuptial agreement." "Let's get our license tomorrow. Once you're officially mine, we can get through this storm together." Looking at his twisted, desperate expression, I slowly pulled my hands away. "I still want to think about the agreement." "What is there to think about?!" Derek exploded, slamming his glass onto the table. "Amber, don't push your luck!" "My family might be in a tight spot right now, but you still don't have the right to look down on me!" "Besides me, who else is ever going to give you a life like this?" "Derek," I said evenly, staring straight into his eyes. "Do you even know who I am?" A flicker of suspicion crossed his face. "What are you talking about?" "Nothing." I grabbed my designer clutch. "I'm tired. I'm heading home. Who knows? Maybe a miracle will happen with the investment." And the miracle arrived right on schedule.