Marrying the 'Crippled' Billionaire

Meeting the Romeros

Georgia’s POV

After driving for what felt like an eternity, the car finally came to a halt, and I turned to look at the tall steel gates of the Romero mansion. The gates parted open, letting the car through, and even though we had already entered the estate, it took some time for us to arrive at the main mansion.

The mansion was not what I had anticipated—rather, it was a surprisingly traditional-looking mansion that was exalted during the 1980s and 1990s. It was unusual to see such houses still standing and so well maintained.

The car circled a fountain, stopping a few steps before a butler. I opened the door, stepped outside, and stared at the mansion, feeling both fascinated and nervous.

“Welcome, Mrs. Flynn,” the butler greeted me, and my eyes met his Stoic gaze.

He was older, his hair almost nonexistent, his hands clasped behind his back, and he was draped in all black. “Please come with me. The family is waiting for you,” he informed me, walking into the house.

I said nothing and simply followed behind him. He pushed open the door, waiting for me to walk in, holding the door.

“Thank you,” I said, walking in.

On entering the living room, I was immediately met with three people already seated, seemingly waiting for me to arrive. An older woman, whom I recognized as the Lady of the House, Mrs. Romero, was seated in the middle with her husband by her side, and a young man who looked very much like her sat across from them.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Romero,” I greeted her as politely as I could.

“We’ve been waiting, Ms. Flynn. Have a seat,” Mrs. Romero responded sharply, not even bothering to be polite enough to return my greeting.

All three of them had a ferocious gaze fixated on their faces, but Mrs. Romero’s predatory gaze was a lot scary, like an interviewer who was more than ready to scare an interviewee away.

“I believe you know why you’re here,” Mr. Romero finally said.

I did know, alright. I was here to meet the Romero’s, specifically their eldest son, who was my soon-to-be husband. This was supposed to be my formal introduction, and I already felt cornered.

“In case you haven't done your research yet, I'm Elena Romero, and I'm Micheal’s stepmother,” she introduced proudly. “And sitting with me are my husband, Daniel Romero, and my youngest son, Gabriel.”

“It’s nice to meet you all, Mrs. Romero,” I responded politely, wondering where the man of the moment was. “If you don't mind me asking, Mrs. Romero, where is your eldest son?”

She gave a curt smile before responding. “Worry not, Georgia. Your fiancé will be joining us in a few minutes.”

“Understood, Mrs. Romero,” I responded, trying not to sound too nervous, even though I was.

There was an awkward silence for a while, and I tried looking everywhere else but at them, wishing that Micheal would just come down so that I'd finally see for myself what I was getting myself into.

“Well, we have taken the opportunity to look at your portfolio,” Elena started, cutting through my train of thought.

“My what?” I asked, looking up in disbelief as she signaled a nearby servant who handed her a folder.

“This folder contains everything that there is to know about you,” she said, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Right,” I nervously responded.

“I’ll just give an overview of what is written here. Georgia Marie Flynn, that is your full name; am I correct?”

I replied, my mouth slightly agape. “Yes, it is.”

“Age: 26, physical attributes: 5ft 7; blonde hair; blue eyes. Has lived with her immediate family all her life and maintains a relationship with them that is neither too intimate nor detached. Has completed all necessary forms of education but has very minimal work experience, which in my book is perfect. I wouldn't want a wife who's obsessed with her career,” she blurted out, to my horror.

Her eyes scanned through the files in the folder, flipping through a few more pages before placing the folder beside her. “All the necessary information we needed to access you is in this folder, and after carefully contemplating, we've decided to choose you as the best candidate.”

“Right,” I nodded.

I couldn't believe that my parents had reduced me to someone who was being evaluated as a potential wife to a physically deprived man. I wasn't looking down on him or anything, but it still felt unfair that this was happening to me. It was almost as though I was being hired to marry the poor guy, based on my qualifications, and speaking of the ‘poor guy’ in question, the fact that he was still not here said a lot.

Another mind-blowing thing was that both Romero and their youngest son, despite being present in the room as well, didn't bother saying a word. Gabriel looked like he was more interested in whatever he had going on with his phone, and as for Mr. Romero, he looked like one of those husbands who let their wives take complete control without bothering to get involved.

“Besides meeting my son, the main reason we invited you here was to inform you of certain things you'd need to know to become a member of the family,” she stated. “As you must know, our last name is a highly reputable one that has spanned across several generations, and we’re not ready or going to allow an outsider to bring shame into our family. If you’re going to carry our last name, then you are expected to be poised and extremely discreet. At no point should you ever be in a controversial situation, and whatever happens in the Romero house, stays in the Romero house.”

Was the Romero family some sort of secret cult? Do they have some crazy practices that'd require my silence? I wondered to myself, but before I could even say anything, Daniel finally spoke up.

“I know girls like you tend to behave wildly, but once you become a member of our family, you're expected to be submissive—quiet. You should never aim to be in the spotlight at any point, and if you ever have to be in the spotlight and on tabloids, it should be because of our last name, which must have to do with your husband.”

Utter disbelief wasn’t enough to describe how I felt about what I just heard. I couldn’t say anything, not because I didn't want to, but because I had no idea what to say to them.

Elena took over again, and I was starting to get used to her stoic tone. “I’m certain your family has already told you about Micheal's condition, if you don’t already know yourself. He’s bound to a wheelchair, which means you can’t have children, and that is out of the contract. You are expected to remain married to Micheal for at least five years before your contract will be terminated, and then you can file for divorce if you see fit. You will also sign a prenuptial agreement as well as an NDA. That way, we make sure that you'll keep your pretty little mouth shut and follow our family’s rules.”

Soon after Elena's subtle threat, a servant came over to her and whispered in her ears. They both shared a look before she turned to me.

“Well, Georgia, it seems like Micheal won’t be coming down, which means you’ll be the one to go upstairs to meet him,” Elena casually said before turning her attention back to the servant. “Take her to his room.”

As much as I didn't like the idea of going to meet Micheal, instead of vice versa, I was relieved to finally get away from Elena's evil eyes, as well as the rest of the family. They all gave me the creeps, and if I wasn't already bound to whatever this contract was about, thanks to my parents, I'd have run out of the house the second Daniel told me to my face that I wasn't allowed to be anything else but Micheal's wife.

“Be careful, sister-in-law. My brother's not easy to deal with,” Gabriel said, speaking up for the first time.

I halted in my tracks. “How bad is he?’ I asked.

“As long as you watch what you say to him and do not speak out of line, you'll be fine. Otherwise, you might end up with a little c***k in the skull—nothing too serious,” Daniel answered, and my heart immediately skipped a beat.

I said nothing and left to meet him to see if he was as bad as they said.

We arrived in front of what I assumed was Micheal's room, and the servant with me knocked politely before leaving me by myself.

“Come in,” a hoarse voice responded.

I opened the door and walked into a room that barely had any lighting.

“Hello, Georgia.”

I shifted my focus to the man in a wheelchair, who was at the far end of the room. He didn’t turn to look at me, but I could see him.

His side profile alone told me all I needed to know. The man was a hunk, and there was no doubt about it. It was too bad that he was stuck in a wheelchair.

“Hello there, Micheal,” I greeted, not bothering to pretend like I was ecstatic about meeting him.

He finally turned to face me, and if I didn't already dislike the circumstances, as well as my newfound hatred for love and relationships, I'd have said he was my type because the man was extremely gorgeous in person. Pictures didn't do him justice at all.

“Binding your life to someone like me—is that what you really want, Georgia?” he asked suddenly, taking me by surprise. “My world is capable of driving you to the brink of insanity, Georgia, and in my condition, I might not be able to save you.”

I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling fascinated by how serious and genuine he sounded. “How bad can it be?” I asked.

“Look at me, Ms. Flynn. I can’t walk, I'm always going to be a liability to you, and sadly, I can't make love to you like a husband should. Would you still like to marry me? In my unfortunate condition?” Micheal asked.

I sighed. “I was not ecstatic about it; I didn't have a say over it, and two minutes ago, I would have told you no. But now, I've changed my mind, and I think I’d like to marry you. After all, this is a marriage of convenience, and I have no expectations.”

“What convenience could you probably get from a man doomed to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life? Why would you change your mind?” he asked.

I took a few steps forward, closing the space between us a bit. “Well, now that I think about it, you have the resources that can help me get what I want.”

“Which is?” he asked.

“Revenge,” I answered sharply. “I want revenge on the people who hurt me. I want them to realize that I'm not as easy as they think I am, and now that I've met you, I believe you have the power to help me.”

“Interesting,” Micheal muttered with an amused look on his face.