I Need A Wife By Tomorrow,” Billionaire Said — I Replied, “Then You’ll Have To Come And Live At My Place

Farming, Lawsuits, and the Corporate World

The drive back to the farm was quieter than the drive to the courthouse.

Benjamin kept glancing at the ring on his finger like he couldn’t quite believe it was there.

I felt the same way about mine. We’d known each other for less than 12 hours.

“So what happens now?” I asked as we pulled into my driveway.

“Now I need to handle the inheritance transfer. Then I guess I need to learn how to be a farmer.”

He smiled slightly. “I should warn you, I’ve never done any kind of manual labor.”

“You’re about to get a crash course.” Thomas followed us back to draw up more paperwork.

He spent an hour in my kitchen on his laptop and phone.

Benjamin paced the whole time, clearly anxious. Finally, Thomas looked up. “It’s done.”

“The inheritance has been transferred to you Benjamin. Cole Industries is officially yours.”

Benjamin’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank God.”

“Gerald has already filed a contest to the will claiming the marriage is fraudulent.”

“I’ll handle it but you two need to be prepared for scrutiny. Make this look real.”

“It is real,” I said. “We’re legally married.” “You know what I mean.”

Thomas closed his laptop. “I’ll be in touch. Benjamin, try not to do anything else impulsive.”

After Thomas left, Benjamin and I stood in my kitchen looking at each other.

He was still in his expensive suit. I was in my red dress.

We were married strangers trying to figure out what came next.

“I should probably get my things,” Benjamin said. “I have an apartment in the city.”

“How much stuff do you have?” “Not much actually. I didn’t really make it a home.”

“That’s sad.” He shrugged. “I was never there anyway. Always at the office.”

“Well, that’s going to change. Come on, I’ll show you around while we still have daylight.”

I changed into jeans and a green t-shirt then took Benjamin outside.

The farm wasn’t huge, just 10 acres total. We had a vegetable garden and a chicken coop.

There was a barn for equipment and fields where I rotated crops.

“This was all your parents’?” Benjamin asked, looking around.

“They bought it 30 years ago when they got married. They loved this place.”

I pointed to the vegetable garden. “My mother spent every morning out here. It was her meditation.”

“It’s peaceful,” Benjamin said, and he sounded like he meant it. “It is.”

“It’s also a lot of work.” I walked toward the chicken coop. “Let’s start with basics.”

I opened the coop door and six chickens came running out. Benjamin took a step back.

“They don’t bite do they?” “Not usually. Here, hold out your hand flat with some feed.”

I poured some chicken feed into his palm. He held his hand out cautiously.

The chickens immediately swarmed him, pecking the feed from his hand. He laughed, surprised.

“That tickles!” “They need fresh water and feed twice a day. Eggs need to be collected.”

“How do you collect eggs?” I showed him, reaching into the nesting boxes.

“Your turn.” Benjamin rolled up his sleeves and reached into a box.

He pulled out an egg very carefully, like it might explode. “I did it!”

“Good job. Now do the other seven.” We spent two hours going through chores.

Benjamin took notes on his phone. He was a fast learner, I give him that.

But he was also clearly exhausted. By the time we finished, his white shirt was dirty.

He had hay in his hair. “I think I need a shower,” he said.

“And possibly a nap.” “Go ahead. I’ll start dinner.”

While Benjamin showered, I made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.

When he came down in clean jeans and a blue t-shirt, he looked more relaxed.

“Something smells amazing,” he said. “Sit down. Food’s ready.”

We ate at the kitchen table. I watched him close his eyes in appreciation.

“This is incredible,” he said. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in years.”

“What do you usually eat?” “Whatever I could grab between meetings. A lot of takeout.”

“Sometimes I’d forget to eat entirely.” “That’s no way to live.”

“I know.” He looked around the kitchen. “This is nice. Sitting for an actual meal.”

“Talking to someone face to face instead of through a screen.” We talked through dinner.

Benjamin explained that Cole Industries had several divisions: manufacturing, technology, real estate.

It was complex and massive. I only understood about half of what he told me.

But I could hear the passion in his voice when he talked about the company.

“Your father would be proud,” I said. “You saved his legacy.”

“I hope so.” He pushed his food around his plate.

“I spent so many years trying to earn his approval. Now he’s gone.”

“I’ll never know if I succeeded.” “You did. You saved the company.”

“You put 3,000 people’s livelihoods ahead of your own comfort. That matters.”

He met my eyes. “Thank you for that.” After dinner we went out to the porch.

We sat on the old swing my father had built. The sun was setting.

It painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. It was a beautiful evening.

“I can see why your parents loved this place,” Benjamin said quietly.

“It’s like a different world out here.” “It is. That’s why I couldn’t let it go.”

“You won’t have to now. The money will keep you secure for a long time.”

“That’s not why I did this,” I said, looking at him. “I want you to know.”

“Yes the money helps, but I did this because it was right. Because you needed help.”

“I know.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’m not used to people doing things.”

“Everyone in my world has an angle.” “Not everyone is like that.”

“No, you’re proof of that.” We sat in comfortable silence as the sky darkened.

Lightning bugs started flickering in the grass. It was perfect and peaceful and strange.

“What happens tomorrow?” I asked. “Tomorrow I have about a 100 phone calls to make.”

“I need to officially take over the company. But I’ll help with the morning chores.”

“I made a promise and I keep my promises.” “Good. Because the chickens don’t care.”

“They still need to be fed.” He laughed. A real, genuine laugh, and I smiled.

Maybe this crazy arrangement might actually work out. The next few days fell into routine.

Benjamin would wake at dawn and help me with the morning chores.

He would spend most of the day on his laptop and phone handling business.

In the evenings we’d work together on the farm and have dinner.

We were like roommates who happened to be married. On the fifth day, Thomas called.

Gerald had pushed for an expedited hearing on his contest to the will.

“He thinks if he moves fast enough, he can prove the marriage is a sham.”

“Let him try,” Benjamin said, his jaw tight. “We have nothing to hide.”

“Gerald has hired investigators. They’ll be looking for any inconsistency in your story.”

Thomas paused. “You two need to be very careful about what you say.”

After the call, Benjamin was tense. He paced the kitchen, running hands through his hair.

“I should have known Gerald wouldn’t give up that easily.”

“He spent his whole life thinking he deserved the company more than me.”

“Why does he think that?” “Because his mother believes my father never appreciated her son.”

“When they divorced Gerald was eight. My father remarried twice more and had me.”

“Gerald’s mother filled his head with stories about how unfair it all was.”

“That’s sad for him,” I said. “But it doesn’t give him the right to take.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He stopped pacing and looked at me. “Amara, this could get ugly.”

“Gerald will try to make you look like you’re only with me for money.”

“Are you prepared for that?” “I am, because it’s not true.”

“I know it’s not, but lawyers can twist anything.” Monday morning we drove into the city.

Benjamin wore a dark blue suit. I wore a maroon dress with a matching jacket.

Thomas met us at the courthouse and walked us through what to expect.

“Gerald’s lawyer will try to establish that you two barely know each other.”

“Don’t let them rattle you. Answer honestly but briefly and above all stay calm.”

We entered the courtroom and I saw Gerald for the first time. He was in his late 30s.

He had slick blonde hair and cold eyes. He sat with his lawyer.

When he saw Benjamin his mouth twisted into a smirk. Judge Patterson called the hearing.

“This is a contest to the will of Richard Cole,” he began.

“Gerald Cole contests the validity of the marriage, claiming it’s a fraudulent arrangement.”

Gerald’s lawyer stood. “Your honor, the evidence will show they met only days before.”

“Mrs. Jackson was compensated for participating. This entire marriage is a legal fiction.”

Thomas stood next. “Your honor, Benjamin Cole and Amara Jackson are legally married.”

“They have established a shared household and are building a life together.”

“Love doesn’t follow a schedule.” The hearing began with Benjamin on the stand.

The lawyer asked pointed questions about how we met. Benjamin answered everything honestly.

“I met Amara 5 days before our wedding. I was desperate and she agreed.”

“Yes there’s a financial arrangement, but that doesn’t diminish the reality of our marriage.”

“We’re living together and learning about each other every day.”

“So you married a woman you’d known for less than a week?”

“I did, and I’m grateful every day that she agreed.”

“How convenient she agreed quickly to marry a billionaire.” “Objection,” Thomas said. “Sustained.”

The lawyer tried a few more angles but couldn’t shake Benjamin’s story.

Then she called me to the stand. “Mrs. Jackson, how much money are you receiving?”

“$2 million after a year if we divorce.” “That’s quite a sum.”

“It is. But that’s not why I agreed to marry Benjamin.”

“No? Then why did you?” I took a breath. “Because 3,000 people’s jobs were at stake.”

“Because Benjamin was honest with me. Because it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do?” She repeated mockingly. “How noble.”

“Tell me, had you ever met Benjamin Cole before he showed up at your door?”

“No.” “Did you know anything about him?” “Not much, just what he told me.”

“So a complete stranger offered you $2 million to marry him and you said yes.”

“That sounds less like nobility and more like opportunism.” “Objection,” Thomas said again.

“Counsel is testifying.” “I’ll rephrase. You were facing financial difficulties with your farm?”

“Yes.” “So the money was certainly a motivating factor?” “It helped. Yes.”

“But it wasn’t the only factor.” “What were the other factors?”

I looked directly at Gerald then at the judge. “I grew up believing you should help.”

“Benjamin needed help, employees needed their jobs protected. I was in a position to help.”

“That’s what decent people do.” The courtroom was silent for a moment.

Gerald’s lawyer looked frustrated. “No further questions.” Thomas stood for redirect.

“Mrs. Jackson, tell the court about the conditions you placed on this marriage.”

“I required Benjamin to come live on my farm and help with the work there.”

“I wanted to know his character before I legally tied myself to him.”

“And has he done that?” “Yes. He’s been living at my farm since our wedding day.”

“He helps with chores every morning and evening. He’s learning to work with his hands.”

“Why was that important to you?” “Because anyone can throw money at a problem.”

“I wanted to know if Benjamin would actually show up and do the hard work.”

“And he has.” Thomas smiled. “Thank you. Nothing further.”

Gerald took the stand and claimed the whole marriage was obviously fake.

Thomas presented photos Benjamin had taken of the farm and of us working together.

He showed text messages mentioning his new life on the farm.

He demonstrated that we were genuinely living together and building something real.

Judge Patterson listened to everything carefully. Finally he spoke.

“This is an unusual situation. However, I find no evidence that this marriage is fraudulent.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Cole are legally married. They appear to be building a life together.”

“I rule in favor of Benjamin Cole. The inheritance stands.”

Gerald’s face turned red. He stood up and shouted, “This is a travesty!”

“Mr. Cole sit down,” the judge said firmly. “This hearing is over.”

We left the courtroom together. Benjamin was beaming and even Thomas looked pleased.

“Well done both of you,” Thomas said. “Gerald won’t stop, but this was a major victory.”

As we walked to the car, Benjamin suddenly pulled me into a hug.

“Thank you. Thank you for standing up there and defending us.”

I hugged him back, surprised by how natural it felt. “We’re a team now.”

“That’s what teams do.” He looked at me with something soft in his eyes.

“Yes we are.” On the drive home we were both quiet, processing everything.

The inheritance was secure and Benjamin’s father’s company was safe.

“You were amazing in there,” Benjamin said. “The way you talked about helping people.”

“Gerald’s lawyer didn’t know what to do with you.” “I just told the truth.”

“I know, that’s what made it powerful.” He turned off the car but didn’t get out.

“Amara, I know this started as a business arrangement but I want you to know something.”

“I respect you more than I’ve respected anyone in a long time.”

“I respect you too, Benjamin. You could have given up, but you didn’t.”

“You’ve been out here every morning feeding chickens. That takes character.”

We smiled at each other and I felt something shift between us.

We were still virtual strangers, but we were also partners now.

Maybe just maybe we were becoming friends. After the hearing something changed.

We defended our marriage in court and come out victorious. It created a bond.

Benjamin threw himself into farm life with renewed energy.

He made sure to be present for the morning and evening chores.

He even started taking initiative, noticing things that needed fixing.

One morning I found him in the barn trying to fix a broken shelf.

“How’s it going?” I asked. “Terrible,” he admitted laughing.

“I’ve hit my thumb twice and the shelf is crooked.” “Let me help.”

I showed him how to level the shelf properly and secure it.

We worked together and by the end the shelf was solid and straight.

“I’m starting to understand why people find this satisfying,” Benjamin said.

“You build something with your own hands and it actually works.”

“That’s the best part about farm life. You see the direct results of your effort.”

Over breakfast, Benjamin told me about a call from his board of directors.

“They want me to come back to the city full-time.” “What did you say?”

“I told them no. I can handle most things remotely.”

“I’ll come in for meetings but I made a commitment to live here.”

“You don’t have to do that. The judge already ruled in your favor.”

“I know but I want to.” He looked around the kitchen.

“For the first time I’m not constantly stressed. I sleep through the night.”

“I eat real meals. Why would I give that up?” I felt warmth spread through my chest.

“That makes me happy to hear.” “Besides, I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

“Your farm could be much more profitable. You’re doing everything manually.”

“What if we invested in modern equipment? We could double your crop yield.”

I frowned. “That sounds expensive.” “It is but I’d cover the cost.”

“Consider it an investment in our home.” “Our home,” I repeated.

It was the first time either of us had called it that. “If that’s okay, I mean.”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “I like the sound of it. Our home.”

“If we modernize, we’d need to make sure we do it sustainably.”

“Absolutely. We’ll research the best environmentally friendly options.”

We spent the afternoon researching together on his laptop.

Benjamin found sustainable irrigation systems and solar panels for power.

His business mind combined with my farming knowledge made for a powerful combination.

“You’re really good at this,” I said. “Thanks. This is what I do best.”

“Analyze problems, find solutions, create efficient systems.” “Why farming though?”

“I am applying it to the company but this feels different. This is personal.”

“I care about making this farm successful because it matters to you. You matter to me.”

My breath caught. “Benjamin…” “I’m not asking for anything,” he said quickly.

“These past couple weeks have been the best I’ve had in years. Maybe ever.”

“They’ve been good for me too,” I admitted. “It’s nice having someone to talk to.”

That evening Lawrence called. Benjamin put him on speaker phone so I could hear.

“Benjamin, I need you to come to the city,” Lawrence said.

“We’re negotiating a major acquisition and they want to meet face to face.”

“When?” “Thursday. This could add 200 million to our annual revenue.”

Benjamin looked at me questioningly. I nodded. “Okay. I’ll be there Thursday.”

“But I’m bringing my wife. If I’m coming to the city, she comes too.”

“Of course. I’d love to meet her.” Benjamin smiled at me.

“Want to see my world for a day?” “I’d like that.”

Thursday morning we drove into the city. I wore the maroon dress.

Benjamin wore his blue suit. He looked natural but I could see he wasn’t as comfortable.

Cole Industries headquarters was a sleek glass building. Benjamin held my hand as we walked in.

“Everyone’s looking at us,” I whispered. “They’re curious. I never brought anyone here.”

“Plus word got around that I got married.” Lawrence met us in the lobby.

He was in his 50s with gray hair and kind eyes. “Benjamin, good to see you.”

“And you must be Amara. Benjamin tells me you’re teaching him to be a farmer.”

“I’m trying. He’s a stubborn student.” Lawrence laughed. “That sounds like Benjamin.”

He gave us a tour. Employees kept stopping to congratulate Benjamin.

“She’s the reason I’m not completely stressed out anymore,” he told one executive.

The meeting was intense. Benjamin negotiated with three executives from another company.

He was sharp, confident, and fair. After 3 hours they had a deal.

Lawrence looked thrilled. “That was brilliant, Benjamin. You just secured our biggest acquisition.”

“Thanks but I need to get back to the farm. We have work to do.”

On the drive home Benjamin was quiet. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about how different my life is now.”

“Six months ago I would have stayed in the city. I’d have worked until midnight.”

“But all I wanted to do today was come home to the farm. To you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The air felt charged.

When we got home we changed into work clothes and tackled the evening chores.

Benjamin had gotten good at collecting eggs. He no longer hesitated.

“I think Henrietta is my favorite,” he said, holding up a large brown hen.

I laughed. “You name the chickens?” “Of course. There’s Henrietta, Martha, Beatrice.”

“Dorothy, Fay, and Big Bertha.” “Big Bertha?” “The rooster. He’s intimidating.”

Benjamin grinned at me. Covered in dust and holding a chicken, he looked happy.