The Stranger's Wife

Chapter-3

Arthur leaned forward in his chair, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “So, you’re my wife now?” he questioned, his

voice heavy with mockery. “And you’re saying you don’t have any ulterior motive? I’ve seen women like you — ready to play any game for money. You know who I am, and you played it well. What’s next? Actually becoming my wife? Climbing to my bed?”

Disgust twisted his features, a look that struck Aaira like a slap. The tension in the room grew unbearable, her pulse pounding loud in her ears. Anger flared within her, pushing back against the weight of his accusation.

“You have no right to judge me, Mr. Black,” she snapped, voice quivering yet defiant. “I am not some gold digger. And for the record, I don’t know who you are, nor do I care to know. I just couldn’t stand to see your grandmother so troubled. That’s all. If you don’t believe me, then ask for anything as compensation,I am ready to prove my innocence . I’ll do it if that will satisfy you.”

Arthur’s gaze narrowed, his expression impenetrable. “Fine. Pay me fifty million as compensation then.”

Aaira's jaw fell open. “What? Excuse me? You must be joking!”

His voice remained steady, unyielding. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Her stomach twisted in fear. She had no idea how to respond. The thought of police involvement, of being dragged into something bigger than she could handle, sent chills down her spine. Her voice wavered, desperate. “I... I don’t have that much of money. I don’t even know how fifty million looks like. Please, there has to be another way...”

Arthur leaned back, a cruel amusement glimmering in his eyes. “If not, I suppose I have no choice but to call the authorities.”

Tears blurred her vision, panic clawing at her chest. She blurted out, “I can work for you. Anything you need — assisting, cooking, cleaning, laundry... I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Arthur’s smirk widened slightly. “I already have staff for all of that, Miss Aaira.”

Her heart sank. The weight of her mistake seemed unbearable. But just as she felt herself unraveling, he continued, his tone measured.

“However, there is something you can do.”

Hope flickered for a moment. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

Arthur rose from his chair and slowly walked around the desk, he stood behind her. The air grew heavy, suffocating. Leaning close, his voice brushed her ear, a low, chilling whisper. “You said to the paparazzi that you're my wife. Why not make it real?” aaira‘s face paled and she could not bear the closeness of arthur so , Aaira’s body jerked instinctively. She shot up from the chair, her back almost hitting the side stand as her heart hammered against her ribcage. “That’s not funny, Mr. Black. I can't do that!”

His eyes followed her, a calculating glint sparking in their depths. “Why not? If you can lie to the world, surely you can play the part for me.”

He took a step closer, and she mirrored it in retreat, tears brimming in her eyes. Her voice broke, trembling. “I... I have a son. Please, ask for anything else.”

Arthur froze, his expression hardening. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by an icy rage. The realization of her having a child seemed to unearth something darker within him. His fist collided with the wall beside her, the impact resonating through the room.

Arthur’s voice was laced with venom, his sharp words slicing through the air like a blade. His icy stare bore into Aaira, unyielding, ruthless.

“All of you are the same,” he spat, his jaw tightening with barely restrained fury. He took a step forward, and she instinctively took one back, but there was nowhere to go. The massive bookshelf behind her was cold against her spine, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him.

“You are a married woman,” he continued, his voice a low, dangerous growl, “and yet, you lied so easily—so effortlessly—that you are my wife.” His lips curled in disdain. “How could you? You are a very good liar, Miss Aaira.”

His words struck like a whip, and Aaira flinched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“What an unlucky husband of yours,” he sneered, his eyes glinting with scorn. “I wonder if he even knows what kind of woman he’s married to. A woman who can fake being someone else’s wife without so much as a second thought.”

Aaira’s breath hitched. The accusation, the sheer disgust in his tone—it was too much.

“You must be doing this for money, am I right?” he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “How much do you need? How many of you are in this game, huh?” His fingers flexed as if restraining the urge to grab her, to shake the truth out of her. “A team of con artists, playing their filthy business, targeting rich fools and then robbing them blind. That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

Her chest constricted, the weight of his words pressing down on her like an iron fist.

“My grandmother is an innocent soul,” he seethed, his breath hot and heavy. “She can’t see the truth. She can’t see how calculative, how manipulative, how utterly gold-digging you are.”

The accusation stung worse than a slap. Aaira felt the air leave her lungs, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs.

“I-I’m not—” Her voice cracked, her throat tightening painfully.

Arthur loomed over her, suffocating, relentless. His towering frame cast a shadow over her, making her feel small, insignificant. His presence was overwhelming, the sheer force of his anger pressing down on her like an impending storm.

Aaira’s fingers trembled at her sides. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the hot tears that threatened to spill. But she couldn’t. Not after hearing those harsh words. Not after being accused of something so vile, something she would never, ever do.

Her lips quivered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Please… don’t say that.”

Her plea was fragile, broken, laced with raw pain. But Arthur’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes dark and merciless.

And in that moment, Aaira realized—no matter what she said, no matter how much she tried to defend herself—Arthur Black had already judged her.

And he was determined to believe the worst.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please, let me go...”

Arthur’s face twisted in a grimace, and he abruptly stepped back, his voice a harsh roar. “Get out of my house!”

Her legs trembled beneath her as she bolted from the study, her heart a wild, erratic drumbeat. The corridor seemed endless, the lavish decor now menacing. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she caught a glimpse of the grandmother’s concerned face, her warm eyes watching Aaira's tear-streaked face. But Aaira couldn’t stop. She didn’t dare. She rushed down the hall and out of the house, the cold air biting against her damp cheeks. Aaira's feet barely touched the ground as she rushed back to the small outhouse she called home. Her chest felt heavy, each breath strained and uneven. The biting cold air stung her tear-streaked cheeks, a cruel reminder of the encounter that had just unfolded.

She collapsed onto the worn-out couch, burying her face in her trembling hands. Shame and regret churned within her like a storm. How had it all spiraled so disastrously? Her innocent attempt to protect the grandmother had unraveled into a nightmare.

Her mind raced, replaying Arthur’s accusations, his icy glare, and the weight of his harsh words. She wondered if she had made a grave mistake stepping into the world of the Blacks — a world far too complex and ruthless for her to navigate.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of the front door. Her son, Aarsh, peeked inside, his curious eyes scanning the room. The sight of him tugged at her heart, grounding her back to reality.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Aarsh's voice was small, yet his concern pierced through her defenses.

Aaira forced a smile, wiping the tears hastily. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm fine. Just... a little tired." Did your dad called you? with that more tears fell from her eyes knowing the harsh reality of her life.. She wept with both her hands covering her face. Aarsh sat onto the couch beside her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders in a comforting hug. She held him tightly, drawing strength from his embrace.Aarsh replied yes mom he called me, by saying this he wiped her tears from her face with his fingers. You know just ignore him mom enjoy your life by saying this he laughed, in spite of tears she too smiled at his son . For his sake, she had to keep going. She had to find a way out of this mess.

And with that, the third chapter closes, leaving the readers to question the tangled fates of Aaira and Arthur — a fragile web woven by lies, misunderstandings, and guarded hearts. Stay tuned for the next chapter!