The Wrong Bride: Married to The Ruthless Billionaire

Chapter 4: Temporary Wife

I hadn’t slept. My pillow was still damp from the tears that slipped out long after I thought I had none left. By the time the morning sun pushed through the curtains, my eyes were swollen, heavy.

I washed my face twice, but the puffiness remained — a mark of weakness I couldn’t erase.

Everything replayed in my mind like a cruel play I couldn’t escape: my mother’s coldness, Camila’s sharp words, the way they both looked at me like I was less than nothing. I had thought my marriage was a cage, but it turned out my own family had tightened the bars.

I forced myself up, wrapping a shawl around my shoulders. The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. Adrian hadn’t come home until late the night before, and I hadn’t dared to ask where he had been.

As I stepped into the hallway, intending to make my way to the kitchen, I heard a low murmur. A man’s voice. His voice.

Adrian.

I froze.

The sound was coming from his study. The door was half-closed, just enough to let his words slip through the gap. My chest tightened as I leaned closer, not out of curiosity but instinct — something in his tone told me I was not meant to hear this.

“Yes,” he was saying, his voice clipped, irritated. “I told you, it’s only temporary.”

Silence. Then his sigh, impatient.

“No, I don’t love her. How could I? She’s… not who I wanted. You know that.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

He paused, listening again. His next words sliced through me like a blade.

“This marriage—this farce—will not last. I’ll play along until it serves its purpose. After that, Elena will be nothing more than a memory.”

I pressed a hand against my mouth to keep the sound from escaping. A sob, a gasp — anything would give me away.

My husband. The man I had been bound to without choice. The man my family insisted I should serve, respect, maybe even learn to love. He was speaking of me as though I were disposable. A placeholder.

I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my ears. The shawl slipped from my shoulders, pooling silently at my feet.

I should have run back to my room. Pretended I hadn’t heard. But the words burned, lodged deep inside me, and I couldn’t hold them in.

Before I knew it, my hand was on the door, pushing it open.

Adrian looked up sharply, the phone still pressed into his ear. His expression froze when he saw me — pale, trembling, standing in the doorway like a ghost.

“Elena?”

His voice faltered, but only for a moment. Then his mask returned. Cool. Controlled. Detached.

I stared at him, unable to move. My lips parted, but the words came out cracked, broken. “Temporary? That’s what I am to you?”

He stiffened. “I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, his gaze locked on mine. Then he ended the call with a sharp click and slipped the device into his pocket.

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“It doesn’t concern you,” he said flatly.

My throat tightened. “Doesn’t concern me? You were talking about me.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”

The casual dismissal snapped something inside me. I stepped into the study, my bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You just said this marriage is a farce. That I’m temporary. That I’m nothing to you.”

His eyes hardened. “Because it’s the truth.”

The words hit me harder than a slap. My hands shook, but I forced myself to look at him. “Why marry me at all, then? Why go through with it if you hate it so much?”

“Because I had no choice!” His voice rose, sharp, echoing off the shelves of books lining the study walls. “Because your family and mine forced it. Because Isabella—” He stopped, jaw tightening.

I flinched at the name. Isabella. The shadow that lingered between us like a ghost at every meal, every silence, every glance he refused to give me.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “This marriage isn’t what I wanted. You aren’t who I wanted.”

Tears welled up, hot and unstoppable. “Do you think I wanted this? To be shoved into your life, into your home, into your bed? Do you think I dreamed of marrying a man who can’t even look at me without remembering someone else?”

He turned then, his eyes flashing. For a brief second, the mask cracked, and I saw it — the anger, the bitterness, the wound he carried. “You don’t understand what she meant to me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” My voice broke, but I pushed on. “You won’t even give me a chance to be more than a burden. I never asked to replace Isabella. I never asked to be your wife. But I’m here, Adrian. And every day you treat me like I’m the enemy. Like I stole something from you. I didn’t!”

My chest heaved. The words had poured out of me without thought, raw and jagged.

Adrian stared, silent. His fists clenched at his sides.

For a moment, I thought he would lash out again — with words, with coldness, with that sharp edge he always carried. But instead, he turned away, his shoulders rigid.

“You don’t know what you’ve stepped into,” he said quietly.

The softness in his tone startled me. It wasn’t gentleness, not exactly, but something heavier. A warning.

I wiped at my tears, trembling. “Then tell me. For once, Adrian, just tell me the truth. What am I really doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, unbearable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’re here because both our families wanted control. Because money and power speak louder than love. That’s the truth.”

His words hollowed me out, even as I had expected them.

I took a shaky breath. “And when it no longer serves its purpose? When you’re finished playing along? What happens to me then?”

He turned, his eyes locking onto mine. For the first time, there was no mask. No shield. Just raw honesty.

“You’ll be gone.”

The room tilted again. My knees weakened, but I forced myself to stay upright. “Gone?”

He didn’t flinch. “One way or another.”

The words hung between us like a blade suspended in the air, ready to fall.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn't think.

Adrian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his eyes burning into me. “So don’t mistake this for something it isn’t. Don’t build hope where there’s none. Don’t think pity will change me.”

His words cut deep, but beneath them, I heard something else. Fear. Pain. A truth he wouldn’t speak.

Still, I couldn’t stay. If I did, I would shatter completely.

I turned, stumbling toward the door. My vision blurred with tears.

“Elena.” His voice stopped me, sharp but unsteady.

I froze, my hand on the door frame. Slowly, I looked back.

His eyes held mine, something unspoken flickering in them. For a heartbeat, I thought he might take it back. That he might soften, apologize, admit he hadn’t meant it.

But instead, he said:

“There are things you don’t know. And when you find out… you’ll wish you had never married me.”

The door creaked beneath my grip as the words sank in.

I left without another word, the echo of his voice following me down the hall.

And for the first time, I wasn’t just afraid of my family.

I was afraid of my husband.