The Billionaire's unwanted wife

Chapter Twelve : The Trap

Tension in the Kingston mansion was a living thing,thick, suffocating, and silent. It clung to every wall, filled every hallway, made every breath feel like a betrayal. No one spoke much these days. They didn’t need to. Pain had a voice of its own, and it echoed louder than words ever could.

Celeste paced her room like a ghost, hands trembling, hair undone. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since that night. The voices in her head tormented her without rest. You did this. You listened to Viennie. You betrayed Isabella. The weight of her actions pressed down like a storm cloud she couldn’t outrun.

She stopped in front of the mirror, startled by her own reflection. Puffy eyes, dark circles, a fading bruise beneath one eye, a haunting souvenir from a sleepless night filled with guilt. Her throat tightened. She didn’t even realize she was crying until tears stained her cheeks. All she wanted was to be seen, to be understood. Instead, she’d let her desperation pull her into a trap. And now... everything was shattered.

The mansion wasn’t the same since the deaths. Catherine. Their father. Gone in one terrible, bloody night. No one recovered. No one could.

Alex tried to play strong. He buried himself in endless work, rarely spoke unless necessary. Grief sat on his shoulders like armor, cold and heavy. Even now, alone in his study, his eyes were blank, focused on a glowing laptop scree, but his mind was far, far away.

Celeste couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to confess. Needed to be free.

She ran through the halls, heart pounding, the marble floor echoing with every hurried step. She found him in the study, bathed in cold lamplight, the tension in his jaw visible even from the doorway.

"Brother," she choked, collapsing to the floor in tears.

Alex’s head snapped up, panic flooding his features as he stood. “Celeste? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He moved toward her, crouching beside her trembling frame.

She shook her head, wiping her tears with shaking fingers. “No. I—I need to tell you something. It’s about that night... the fashion show...”

Alex stiffened.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she rushed on. “I swear I didn’t. Viennie said she’d end our friendship unless I did something, something stupid. She told me to spike Isabella’s drink. I thought… I thought it was harmless. She said she’d just embarrass herself. I didn’t know"

“Celeste.” Alex’s voice was a whisper, deadly calm. He stepped back, fists clenched.

“She planned everything,” Celeste continued, her voice cracking. “She told me afterward. She sent the footage to the media. She... she’s working with someone. I don’t know who. But it’s not just her. There's something bigger.”

For a moment, silence ruled. Then Alex finally spoke, his voice hard. “Leave.”

Celeste flinched.

“Go to your room,” he said, jaw tight. “Now.”

She obeyed, her legs weak, stomach hollow. She didn’t even cry. She couldn’t. Her heart was already shattered.

The next morning, the family gathered at the dining table. All except Celeste.

When she finally walked in, her head was bowed, face pale. She couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Not Mother’s. Not Grandfather’s. Especially not Isabella’s.

But no one said anything. No questions. No outbursts. She realized, with a mix of relief and shame, that Alex hadn’t told them. He’d protected her.

For now.

Alex stood from the table after breakfast and left the mansion without a word. Everyone else returned to their routines, as robotic and hollow as ever.

Later that afternoon, Isabella approached Jordan, her voice hesitant. “Jordan... can I ask you something?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“I want to go somewhere. But please... don’t tell Alex.”

He hesitated. “Bella"

“Please,” she whispered. “You’ll be with me the whole time. I promise I’ll explain everything to Alex later.”

Jordan sighed. He hated lying to Alex, but her pleading eyes softened his resolve. “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

The drive was quiet. Isabella stared out the window, lost in thought. Her heart beat faster with every mile. She hadn’t seen her mother in months, not since the marriage. And she still hadn’t told her she was married. Not because she didn’t want to. But because everything had happened so fast. Too fast.

When they arrived, Jordan parked outside a modest townhouse. Isabella stepped out, nerves fluttering in her stomach. She knocked. A moment passed. Then the door opened, and a familiar warmth enveloped her.

“Mom,” she breathed, hugging her tightly.

“Oh, Bella,” her mother whispered, holding her close. “I missed you so much.”

Tears welled in Isabella’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

Inside, they talked for a while, small talk, nothing too deep. Isabella introduced Jordan as a colleague. Her mother didn’t press. She smiled, said she was glad her daughter had good company. But Isabella knew. Her mother saw through her facade. She always did.

Soon, Isabella stood to leave. “I’ll visit again soon,” she promised.

Her mother kissed her forehead. “Be safe, my love.”

Back in the car, Jordan was unusually quiet. Isabella noticed his tense grip on the steering wheel.

“Jordan? You okay?”

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “A car’s been following us since we left the house.”

Her blood ran cold. “Should I call Alex?”

Before he could answer, everything exploded.

A car slammed into them from the side with brutal force.

The world turned upside down.

Metal crunched. Glass shattered. Isabella screamed as she was flung sideways. Jordan’s head hit the window. Then, darkness.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Jordan blinked awake, pain pulsing through his skull. He looked around, groaning. The windshield was cracked, the airbag deflated.

“Bella?” he rasped, coughing.

She was gone.

His heart dropped.

Panic surged through him as he stumbled out of the wreck. Blood streamed down his temple. His phone shook in his trembling hand as he dialed the one person who needed to know.

“Sir,” he said when Alex answered. His voice cracked with dread.

“They took her.”