Tom, a 23-year-old student from Manchester, was barely keeping his head above water. Life had become an endless slog: his mum had fallen seriously ill and hadnt worked in years, while his little sister needed constant care, new school uniforms, and dinner on the table every evening.
The weight of it allmedicine, hospital bills, rent, groceriesrested squarely on his shoulders. He scraped by with odd jobs: delivering takeaways, stacking shelves at Tesco, tutoring GCSE students. But no matter how hard he worked, the numbers never added up. Debts piled up, overdraft fees loomed, and Tom often lay awake wondering, *How much longer can I keep this up?*
Then one day, his mate introduced him to an unusual woman. At 76, she was sharp as a tack, with a wicked sense of humour and the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of getting exactly what she wanted. She was filthy richa self-made millionaire who owned half of Chelseabut also achingly lonely.
Tom quickly realised she wasnt just some posh old dear with a fat bank account. She was clever, disarmingly perceptive, and actually listened when he spoke. So when she made him an offermarriagehe spent three sleepless nights wrestling with it. His heart said *run*, but his conscience, and the image of his mums unpaid medical bills, said *take the deal*.
“Couple of years with an elderly lady,” he told himself, “and my familys sorted.”
A week after the wedding, Tom had settled into the rhythm of their peculiar arrangement. They lived in her sprawling Kensington townhouse like polite strangersseparate bedrooms, stiff small talk over breakfast, never a hint of romance.
Then one evening, she summoned him to her study.
Tom fidgeted under her gaze as she peered over her reading glasses. “Ive no heirs,” she said bluntly. “No husband, no children. And lets not pretendI know exactly why you married me. You wanted the money, not me.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.
“Dont bother. I dont blame you. In fact, I respect the pragmatism. So heres my proposal: you stay by my side, play the dutiful husband in public, and in return, youll want for nothing. No intimacy requiredwe keep our current arrangement. But one rule: absolute loyalty. No other women, no scandals. One whiff of mischief, and youre out with nothing.”
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a steely whisper. “And dont get any ideas about speeding up the inheritance. If I die, and its even slightly suspicious, every penny goes to charity. I dont need a gold-digger. I just want company.”
Tom sat there, stunned. Relief, dread, and grudging admiration tangled in his chest.
“Think it over,” she said, standing. “Youll have more than you ever dreamed. But only if you can stick it out.”
He knew his answer wouldnt just change his lifeit would rewrite his familys future. And for better or worse, the ball was in his court.
