I Married Her To Become The CEO

Tala's pov:

I was curled up on the couch in my pajamas, tears streaming down my face. The credits of the soap opera were rolling, but the heartbreak was still fresh.

"Stop crying over silly soap operas," my mom said, her voice sharp with irritation. "Get up and do something useful."

"I can't help it, the episode was sad!" I wailed, my voice thick with tears. "The Male lead left the female lead and broke her heart after she did everything for him! How can men do that? Why don't they have a heart or any feelings?"

A fresh wave of sobs shook my body. I couldn't help it.

"Stop this nonsense," Mom snapped. "Get up and do something about your future. You graduated top of your class so that you could end up a failed employee who quits every job after a month or two? You're over twenty-five, and you haven't reached a position at a respectable company, nor have you gotten married..."

Her words stung more than any TV drama. "Shame on you, Mom," I shot back, wiping my face angrily. "You're supposed to be compassionate towards me, not make me more stressed! I can't find a job because the economy these days is terrible... And marriage isn't important because there are no good men, they're all traitors and liars... Except for him."

She looked at me with such disgust it made my stomach clench. "Is it possible you're still thinking about him?" she asked, her tone dripping with disbelief. "It's been four years since you graduated and you still haven't forgotten him?"

"It's impossible to forget him," I whispered, the memory a dull ache in my chest. "He was different. Tender, kind, and had a great sense of humor."

"The same short one you used to talk about, or someone else?"

"Don't call him short!" I defended him instantly. "His height is normal and he has an athletic build. I'm the one who's too tall. I'm 179 cm; I was the tallest girl in school and they called me 'Tala the Giant'."

"You should be proud of our family's genes," she said, switching tactics. "Be grateful. Being different is beautiful."

"I'm not ungrateful, and I have no objection," I sighed, feeling exhausted. "But society doesn't understand this. It's 2025 and people still bully tall girls."

An hour later, she finally forced me to get up, get dressed, and go to a job interview. I went through the motions, my heart not in it. Two hours later, I was back.

"So, what happened?" Mom asked the second I walked in.

I told her the usual story. "They offered the minimum wage, wanted me to work six days a week, and the company was so small it was obvious they'd dump all the accumulated work on me. It was another dead end."

"Just accept it," she said with a dismissive wave. "It's better than you sitting in my face and crying over silly soap operas..."

The words just tumbled out, fueled by a lifetime of not being heard. "If only you could feel for me, even for a moment. If you put yourself in my place..." I trailed off, the fight draining out of me. "Fine, I know no one will ever feel for me. This is my life, always alone and no one understands me."

"Enough, Drama Queen," she said, her final verdict. "Change your clothes and come wash the dishes."

I retreated to my room, the familiar walls my only sanctuary. I changed out of the stiff interview clothes and fell onto my bed, the weight of the day crushing me. My mind drifted back, as it always did, to easier times. To university, to him.

I couldn't help but wonder...My dear Amir, has your life improved after graduation, or are you struggling like me? I hope your life is better. You deserve all the best.

---

Amir's Pov:

The leather seat of the limousine was cool against my suit jacket, but my focus was entirely on the road ahead. This was more than just a meeting; it was a perfectly laid trap, and I was the one setting the spring.

Next to me, My grandpa Azmi Abu Al-Saeed broke the silence, his voice calm but heavy with expectation. "Today, Amir, I am relying on you entirely to lead the meeting. I want you to convince them of our devices by yourself." He turned to look at me, his gaze steady. "I am sure you will not let us down. You will raise the name of the Abu Al-Saeed family."

I gave him a confident, easy smile, the one I'd practiced to perfection. "I'm ready. Don't worry at all, everything is under control." And it was. The real plan, the one he knew nothing about, was ticking along even more smoothly than this surface-level deal.

The deal itself was straightforward: sell our devices to Al-Nassir Corporation at a discounted rate in exchange for their marketing muscle and commercial cooperation. A good deal on paper.

But my reason for choosing them was the real prize. My research uncovered a golden opportunity: Mr. Al-Nassir had no sons, only daughters. My plan was simple, elegant even. Get close to him, build trust, then get close to one of the daughters. A marriage would weave our families together, and from that position of familial trust, it would only be a matter of time before I could guide his company into a merger with our own, effectively absorbing it. This meeting was the first move in that long game.

When we entered the boardroom, I led with my charm. My smile, which I know people find disarming, was in full force, and I made sure my honey-colored eyes held nothing but warm confidence. I started with a light-hearted joke about the traffic, and just as I'd planned, the room erupted in relaxed laughter. Breaking the ice was child's play.

Then I stood to present. I introduced our company, our devices, paying homage to the engineers whose work I was now leveraging. I painted a picture of our recent achievements, making our growth sound both meteoric and inevitable. But the real piece de résistance was the personal touch. I told them a story-a carefully edited one, of course. I spoke of my initial fears upon joining the Abu Al-Saeed company, the crushing weight of the responsibility, and how the legacy of the family and the profound warmth I felt from every single employee, from every department, had inspired me to overcome my doubts.

"I realized we weren't just colleagues," I said, my voice dropping to a more intimate, sincere tone. "We are a family. And that is our greatest strength." The lie tasted like honey. They were captivated, hanging on my every word.

The rest was a formality. The deal was signed, hands were shaken, and the looks of impressed satisfaction on their faces were everything I had hoped for. The hook was set.

Afterwards, My grandpa clapped a hand on my shoulder, his face beaming with pride. "You were magnificent! Tonight, dinner is on me. We must celebrate your success."

As we walked out, I accepted his praise with a humble nod, but inside, my mind was already racing forward. This wasn't a celebration; it was a launch. The first phase was complete. Now, the real work of securing my future, and Abu Al-Saeed empire along with it, could begin.

The celebratory dinner with my grandpa had been a success, a perfect capstone to my performance. I returned home, the high of the day still thrumming in my veins. I found my mother in the living room, phone pressed to her ear. I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.