Married To The Crippled Billionaire

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE MANSION'S TRAP

His words were like a strain to me each time he replied to me with just a word, it haunted me to the deepest part of me.

Not going home was something I should get used to, cause it doesn't seem like it's going to be the end. I am now in chains. I stood and admired the luxurious outfit in racks and velvet drapes. Then I thought to myself, what does he think I was laverish, all his money on me with his no limit, he must be joking. If Dario thought his wealth could erase my identity, he’d misjudged me. I scanned all through their price tags and deliberately picked up the cheapest shoes, clothes, and bags

Getting all those things, I glanced at Dario, who sat in his wheelchair near the suite’s arched window; his silence was what I could scale. His hands resting on the armrest, showing no expression, unrelaxed, but his eyes were on me. Still had this doubt that there was something to him, a whole lot to know about his hidden agenda. Ì tried to understand him while getting what I needed- this man who paid for my father's heart surgery, cleared all my family debt, and claimed my hand in return. Who on earth is this man? Was he a benefactor, a manipulator, or something darker? Then I noticed a scar around his jaw, barely visible, which whispered history he held, but his silence had no answers.

After I was done picking my modest selection, I dropped it on the counter, ignoring the concierge’s frown written on her face and not moving an inch to pick up more

She finally spoke, “Is this all?” She said with a confused look

Yes, this is all I said, calmly, though my hands trembled. Thinking of the shopping memories with Matthew's when he got me a satin dress which I loved dearly, and now I am left with pain and a wounded heart, not ready to make the same mistake with Dario, not after losing so much

See the surprise and confession he concierge had when checking all the price tags.

She paused, said “Ms. Layla, Mr Dario said there was no limit… then she faced Dario, asking for directions for him to repeat it to me clearly, but he remained silent while his gaze was on me. That gaze made me a little tense and had to away and drew back the concierge's attention to me

I nodded and said, “I choose what I need.” She did bother about asking further questions and packaging all that I chose, while I inspected, what she packed was right, there was no addition to what I chose. I didn’t want his world, not after Matthew’s cruelty, not after signing my freedom away to save my father.

Dario spoke at last, his voice low and firm, “We’re finished. Let’s move.

No bit of anger or disapproval, just a command, as if my choices didn't affect or matter to him, made me start wondering why he allowed this yet didn't want me to return home. I studied him in search of an answer, why me, why this marriage. His eyes met mine in search of communication, then his wheelchair turned toward the door, expecting me to follow. I did, feeling weak to object to his power

The concierge led us to more private rooms and corners deeper in the Velluto, a hushed space of mirrored walls and soft lighting, where more items—shoes, coats, jewelry—awaited. Ì picked up no interest in any of them but only Matthew’s voice, confessing his betrayal, echoed in my mind. I pushed the thoughts down and back to reality. I am now in Dario's world.

The SUV waited outside with its driver, a well-mannered, silent figure. Ì presumed the posting, I was in the car while Dario was assisted and got to the front seat. The city light faded as we drove off to the outskirts, which was Dario’s mansion, a place of whispers and wealth. I pressed my palm against the window, the glass cool against my skin. My mother’s fierce spirit was my only light, but even that dimmed in Dario’s shadow.

Approaching the tall gate as the mansion rose from the dark, I was assisted by the driver with the door and got out of the car. Dario wheeled onto the flagstone path, his movements fluid, commanding, as if the estate were his kingdom, while the staff took my minimum belongings then I followed Dario inside.

The mansion was magnificent with high ceilings and… an interrupted crisp uniform appeared, her voice soft. “Your items are in the master room at the east side of the corner, Ms. Layla,” she said, glancing at Dario. “Shall I show her the room

Dario’s voice cut through, firm, calm. No, I will do that myself. The maid nodded, retreating, leaving us in the vast silence.

I turned to him, frustration spilling. “Why am I here, Dario? You say my home’s not safe, but you give me nothing. I chose those clothes to stay with me, not to be your puppet.” My voice cracked

He wheeled closer, his eyes locking onto mine, a glint of something more like a hidden truth or control. Walk with me he ordered, and I had no choice but to just have a lot of questions pulling like stones. Passing through the hall, with so many doors and portraits, a library with different shades of books, and a quiet piano room, we stopped at the caved double door and opened the door, which was neatly arranged, draped in silk, a vast bed dominating the space. Which o guessed was the master bedroom

I froze to catch a breath, the room was a palace itself. This is your home now,” he said, his voice softer, yet commanding. I couldn't accept this or feel too comfortable because I was now in a prison and was given a prison cell.

I’ll take a guest room,” I said, my voice a whisper, fear and defiance warring, but still came out boldly and confidently standing on my words.

Dario wheeled closer, his eyes piercing, storming in their depths. Moving closer to me and boldly and firmly repeated his words, "You are now my wife, you wouldn't sleep in the guest room- you'll sleep in the master bedroom.”