His accidental wife

Chapter eight: The public reveal.

Isabelle could barely feel her legs as she left Jayden’s office, she could still feel the weight of the contract pressing down on her chest. Her mother’s bills have been paid, but the price she had to pay… she wasn’t sure she could ever repay.

The driver was already waiting outside with the sleek red car, its engine already started. But before climbing in, Isabelle whispered, almost pleading, “Please… I need to see my mother first.”

Jayden’s cold eyes lingered on her. For a second, she thought he would say no. But then, with a quiet nod, he said, “Five minutes. Don’t be late.”Her heart leapt for joy.

The drive to the hospital was quiet, with Isabelle lost in thought on how she’s going to tell her mother. The driver pulled over in front of the hospital and Isabelle hurried down the hospital lobby, the scent of disinfectant filling her nose. Machines beeped softly as she entered her mother’s room.

Her mother’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door, her fragile form sinking into the bed. “Isabelle,” she whispered weakly, smiling. “You came.”

Isabelle rushed to her side, gently holding her hand. “Of course I did, Mummy.”

“The hospital said…” Her mother’s eyes blinked with disbelief. “They said the bills are paid. All of it, Isabelle. How—?”

Isabelle’s throat felt tight. Her fear was already happening. She forced a smile, pushing down the tears that were threatening to fall. “Don’t worry about it anymore, Mummy. Just focus on getting better. That’s all you need to do.”

Her mother’s lips curved faintly. “I knew you’d find a way. My strong girl.”

Guilt filled Isabelle’s chest. She nodded quickly and looked away, afraid her mother would see the truth in her eyes. After a few more minutes, she kissed her forehead softly. “Rest now, Mummy. I’ll come back soon.”

She rushed out before her tears betrayed her. But instead of the driver, a well-dressed woman was waiting near the lobby, holding a garment bag and a small box.

“Miss Bennett,” she said politely, “Mr. Blackwood asked me to prepare you.”

Isabelle blinked. “Prepare me?”

The woman’s smile was professional, her tone swift. “He won’t have his wife seen in public looking anything less than perfect. Come with me.”

Before Isabelle could object, she was guided into a private room. The garment bag was unzipped, revealing a gown so breathtaking it stole her breath — deep purple silk with delicate beadwork along the neckline, elegant but commanding.

Her fingers shook as they brushed the fabric. She had never worn anything like it. Never even dreamed of it.

The assistant helped her change, applied flawless but natural makeup, and slipped elegant heels onto her feet. When Isabelle turned toward the mirror, her breath caught.

The girl staring back didn’t look like Isabelle Bennett, the poor, exhausted daughter who begged for mercy in pharmacies. She looked like someone else entirely. Someone who belonged to Jayden Blackwood’s world.

Her chest ached. Is this what it takes to be his wife? To become someone I don’t even recognize?

The woman packed quickly. “The car is waiting, Mrs. Blackwood.”

The title made Isabelle’s heart shake. She forced herself to smile and followed, her steps unsteady in the heels.

When she slid into the car beside Jayden, she felt his sharp eyes focus on her at once. His lips barely moved.

“Better,” he said simply, before looking away.

She bit her cheeks. Better. As if she were a project made for display.

The ride was silent until the car stopped in front of a glowing hotel. Flashes of cameras already lit the entrance, reporters’ voices buzzing in the air. Isabelle’s stomach twisted.

“Why are we here?” she whispered.

Jayden adjusted his cufflinks calmly. “Tonight, the world meets my wife.”

Her blood ran cold.

Before she could protest, the car door opened. Jayden stepped out first, the crowd erupting with questions and snapping photos. Then a hand appeared in the doorway—his hand, steady, commanding.

Her breath caught. The world outside was terrifying, but his hand was the only anchor she had. Slowly, she placed her hand in his and stepped out.

The flashing lights blinded her instantly. Voices shouted, questions flew.

“Mr. Blackwood, is this true?”

“Who is she?”

“Your wife?”

Her knees nearly buckled, but Jayden’s hand pressed firmly at her back. “Smile,” he murmured beside her ear.

Inside the grand ballroom, whispers followed them like shadows. Elegant women in glittering gowns raised eyebrows, men leaned in to gossip, but Jayden didn’t falter.

“My wife,” he introduced calmly to some investors that came to greet him, his voice sharp enough to silence the crowd.

The word struck her like thunder. Wife. She felt like an imposter in a borrowed gown, standing in a world where she didn’t belong.

But Jayden stood tall beside her, daring anyone to question his choice.

And as Isabelle forced a smile, her heart trembled with one truth she couldn’t ignore:

This was only the beginning.