The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

4. CONDITION

|Javier|

“This is… absolutely ridiculous, Dad,” I muttered the second he finished explaining the so-called condition he expected me to accept.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he gave me that familiar, unreadable smile—the kind that always made me feel like he was five steps ahead in a game only he understood. Calmly, he lifted the porcelain teacup to his lips and took a deliberate sip, as if we had all the time in the world and not a single thing in it could touch him.

We were seated in his private study at home. Earlier, Mom had been with us, quietly perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes darting between us with worry. But after a brief exchange, Dad had politely dismissed her, saying he needed to speak to me in private. The moment the door clicked shut behind her and the housekeeper brought in the tea, he got straight to business.

No pleasantries. No warm welcome. Just the cold, hard reason why he’d summoned me home.

To be honest, I wasn’t blindsided.

I’d been expecting this conversation. Not the exact details, perhaps, but I’d sensed something like it was coming. For months now, the signs had been there—in his tone during our overseas calls, in the way he delegated more to me, in the subtle pressure he’d been applying without ever needing to say a word.

I had just flown back from a successful business trip abroad, where I’d closed a deal worth millions—arguably one of the most significant victories for the company this fiscal year. My phone buzzed with his message the moment I landed back in Manila.

‘We need to talk. Come home.’ That was all it said.

But it was enough. I already had a strong suspicion about what this was going to be about. Who will be the next head of the Lanford Group?

That question had been echoing in my mind for weeks. I had been waiting—no, expecting—good news from my father. After all, I had just closed one of the most lucrative deals in the company’s history. I walked into his office brimming with confidence, certain he was finally giving me the one thing I want.

But instead of some good news I deserved, he dropped a bomb I never saw coming.

“Me? Get married?” I said, stunned. The words tasted bitter as they left my mouth. “Seriously, Dad? Why not just hand me the position now? I’ve earned it—without tying the knot.”

My voice rose, sharp with frustration. The absurdity of it all made my chest tighten.

Marriage? As a requirement? This wasn’t the eighteenth century.

He simply set his teacup down on the glass table between us with infuriating calmness. Then he looked up, his eyes steady and unreadable.

“I know, son,” he said, his tone almost too gentle. “I already know what you’re capable of.”

Something in me stilled. The anger that had been simmering began to fade, replaced by a flicker of hope. But just as I opened my mouth to speak—to say thank you, to tell him I wouldn’t let him down—he spoke again.

And what he said next crushed every ounce of hope I had left.

“But like I said—meet my conditions, and the position is yours.”

His voice was calm, but the weight behind those words was anything but. There was a grim, unwavering seriousness in my father’s eyes, the kind that left no room for negotiation. He meant it. Every damn word of it.

My fingers curled into tight fists against my lap. I ground my teeth, holding his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. The irritation in my chest was building like a storm once again—hot, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

Because I just… don’t fvcking get it.

Of all the possible conditions he could’ve laid out for me—why this?

Why marriage?

It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d pushed it. My parents had been trying to nudge me toward the altar for years now. Subtle suggestions. Not-so-subtle setups. A parade of suitable women. But I’ve never played into any of it. Never saw the point.

I’ve always kept things simple. Physical. No strings. No expectations. The women in my life? Temporary pleasures. Easy goodbyes. Nothing more.

And now he’s telling me that everything I’ve worked for comes down to this? A ring on someone’s finger?

Bullsh8t.

I could come up with a dozen other ways to prove my worth. Pitch him a new venture tomorrow, and I could promise exponential growth within five years. The kind of success that would make competitors sweat. He knows I’m capable. He’s seen it firsthand.

He’s been gearing up for retirement for months now. And I know—I know—I’m the one he’s grooming to take over. Not Nicolas. My brother’s ideas are half-baked at best. Reckless, even. The board sees it. Hell, everyone sees it. I’ve earned their respect. Their confidence. I’ve earned his.

But this?

This is what it all hinges on?

No matter how many allies I have on the board, no matter how many spreadsheets and profit margins I shove in their faces, it all circles back to one simple truth:

Dad’s word is final.

“I hope you can understand why I’m doing this, Javier,” Dad said, his voice composed but carrying the weight of finality.

I inhaled sharply, letting the air burn through my lungs as I struggled to keep my emotions in check.

No. I didn’t understand. Not even a little. But I kept those words locked behind clenched teeth.

“Your mother and I only want one thing—for you to finally settle down,” he continued, his gaze unwavering as it met mine. “Success... it means nothing if you have no one waiting for you at home each night. Remember it, Javier.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile, a poor attempt at warmth that barely masked the steel in his tone.

“I don’t care who the woman is,” he added, almost dismissively. “Just bring someone home. Marry her. Stay married for a year. Do that, and the Lanford Group is yours to lead.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The room was swallowed in silence, dense and suffocating.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly as I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration pressing down on my chest.

Becoming the head of our company had always been the endgame. Since the moment I understood what legacy meant, I’d set my sights on that position. But never—not once—did I imagine it would come with a condition like this.

Marriage? As a prerequisite for leadership?

It made no sense. At least not to me. But if this was the only way to claim the future I’d sacrificed everything for...then I had no choice but to play the game by his rules.

For a moment, silence wrapped itself around the room. Neither of us spoke. We simply sat there, letting the unspoken tension simmer between us—until the shrill ring of my phone shattered the stillness.

The sound was unmistakable. The moment the ringtone echoed through the space, I didn’t need to check—I knew it was mine. And more than that, I knew exactly who it was.

My secretary.

That familiar tone pulled me out of whatever emotional haze I had been drifting in. A sharp reminder that I didn’t belong here—not for long. I had work. Commitments.

I straightened my posture, brushing away the lethargy that had crept in. My hand reached instinctively for my phone resting on the coffee table. One glance at the screen confirmed my guess: Billy – Office Line.

Without hesitation, I answered. “Yes, Billy?” I said, casting a sideways glance at my father, who was still calmly sipping his tea, completely unbothered.

[“Good afternoon, sir,”] Billy said, his voice crisp and professional as always. [“Just a quick reminder—your meeting starts in thirty minutes.”]

I exhaled, pressing my fingers briefly against the bridge of my nose. “Understood. I might be a little late, but I’ll be there.” Then I ended the call.

Rising from my seat, I turned toward my father, slipping back into the suit jacket I’d draped over the armchair earlier. “I’ve got to run, Dad. There’s a meeting I can’t miss.”

He placed his teacup down and looked up at me with that ever-calculating gaze. A quiet sigh escaped him. “Sometimes I wonder if I should be proud or concerned that you’re this obsessed with the company, Javier. You’ve turned into a proper workaholic.”

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “Then why not just hand me the reins already?”

His expression didn’t change, but a knowing smirk of his own surfaced. “My condition hasn’t changed, son.”

I didn’t bother hiding my frustration this time. I just nodded and murmured a tired goodbye. I found my mother in the kitchen and said my farewells to her too before stepping out of our ancestral home.

I didn’t live there anymore. Haven’t for years. Living closer to the company made more sense—practical and efficient.

As I eased onto the highway, the words from my father continued to echo in my head like an unwanted chorus:

“Get married. Stay married. For one full year.”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

What kind of woman would even agree to that? I didn’t do relationships. I didn’t even do dating. Commitment was a foreign language I never bothered to learn. So how the hell was I supposed to get married?

Then, like a lightning bolt, the answer hit me.

I knew someone.

Someone who practically made a living knowing women.

Without thinking twice, I tapped into the car’s dashboard screen and pulled up his contact. Gabriel Gil. The smug bastard took his sweet time answering—three rings in, and finally, I heard his voice.

[“Hello, this is the irresistible and ever-handsome Gabriel Gil speaking.”]

“Gab,” I said, my voice flat and to the point. “I need your help.”

A beat of silence. Then his laugh cracked through the speakers like thunder. [“Holy sh8t. Did I hear that right? The Javier Lanford is actually asking me for help? Is this the end of the world?”]

“Go to hell.”

Another burst of laughter. This time, I could hear the genuine thrill in his tone. He was enjoying this far too much.

[“Well, damn,”] he said. [“What can I do for you, my dearest friend? I feel honored. I better do a damn good job if you're actually calling me.”]

I smirked, eyes fixed on the road as I pressed harder on the gas.

“Find me a wife.”