The Billionaire's Real Wife

I was mowing the lawn in our front yard when my sister's convoy drove in. I resisted the urge to look at them and continued mowing. I was the family's adopted daughter and maid, while she was their biological daughter and the future Queen of the Kingdom. She detested the sight of me, so we rarely spoke to each other. "Mia, what happened?" A message appeared on my phone about an hour later. I checked the sender and saw it was Chloe, a woman in her late forties who lived across the boulevard. "Nothing, Chloe," I replied, glancing in the direction of her house. "Then why did you sign up on Matrisure, begging men to marry you? For God's sake, you're only twenty-three!" "Chloe, please calm down. What is Matrisure?" "It's a matrimonial website! Please delete those pictures. Your hair is so unkempt, and people are laughing at you!" "Queenie! She's at it again!" I yelled, taking my hands off the mower and running toward the grand foyer. "Queenie, did you just create a profile for me on a matrimonial website?" I asked my sister, who was sitting on one of the sofas with her knees and ankles pressed together and her legs tilted to one side. Queenie had been betrothed to Prince Henry Montero, the heir apparent to the Cambodian throne, when she was thirteen. The Queen took her into the palace when she turned sixteen and taught her how to become the Prince's wife. After spending six years in the palace, everything Queenie did radiated royalty. "Oh, so you've been visiting the website, yet it never occurred to you to create a profile? Aren't you getting old?" Queenie asked without looking at me. "I haven't been visiting the site. My friend just called to tell me about it. Did I ever tell you I needed a husband?" I asked, raising my voice slightly. "Mia!" "Mom, please stay out of this. I'm talking to my sister!" I yelled. It was as though my words had struck a nerve in Queenie. She rose from the sofa and walked majestically toward me. "Mia, you're a fool! You're so dumb. Gosh! I've told you several times that I'm not your sister! You were used as collateral. Mom never adopted you! Your lazy mother used you as collateral! Stop addressing me as your sister. I'm smart and intelligent. I can't have a dumb mule like you for a sister! You're too ugly and dirty for my liking!" Queenie screamed. I licked my lower lip and looked away. My family would never stop reminding me that I had been used as collateral. I didn't know what they meant by that. I knew I was adopted, but I had no idea what they meant when they said I had been used as collateral. Every time they reminded me that I was a stranger in their midst, I felt unwanted and alone. I didn't know my true identity, and that made me feel like an alien. I was also growing bitter toward my biological parents for abandoning me and leaving me to be raised by people who treated me like a burden. "Please, remove all my pictures from the website. I'll get married when I find the right man for me," I said sadly. "When, Mia? You're twenty-three! All you do is sit around and eat the food I send to Mom and Dad! When will you start appreciating them for raising you? If raising a child were easy, your biological mother wouldn't have abandoned you! You're leaving this house whether you like it or not!" "Would you stop bringing up my biological mother?" I yelled. "No, I won't! She gave birth to the most confused human being on earth. You have a dull brain!" "Mom, please warn her," I said, turning to look at my mother. "Shut your dirty mouth!" Mom shouted, rising to her feet and pointing a finger at me. "Queenie has been here for over an hour, and you saw her royal convoy arrive, yet you didn't come out to show her some respect! The entire nation bows to her. People give her standing ovations whenever her presence is announced at an event! I don't see why you shouldn't do the same. And let me remind you that this mansion belongs to her. The royal family gave it to her on her thirteenth birthday. She has decided that you're leaving this house, and her word is final." "She wants me out because I didn't bow to her the way you and Dad do?" "Yes!" "Have I ever bowed to her?" "No! And she can't take it anymore. Mia, you're leaving." "Fine, I'll leave, but I... I need time to find an apartment," I stammered, lowering my face. What I needed wasn't really time. I needed money. "Your stay here is over! A suitor called me thirty minutes ago. He's coming tomorrow morning to take you away. He has already transferred a huge amount of money to me," Dad said as he walked into the lounge with a wide grin. They treated Queenie like a goddess and did whatever she wanted. "You sold me off?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in disbelief. "No, someone has cleared your debt! Listen, I'm not transferring the money back to him. Either you marry him tomorrow or I'll throw you out! You would have spent the rest of your miserable life serving my wife and me if this stranger hadn't cleared the debt your crazy mother owed me. Now you're a free woman. Go upstairs and pack your things because you're leaving this house tomorrow," Dad said. I stood still, my eyes widening as I stared at him. I knew they hated me, but I had never imagined they could hate me this much. I hurried upstairs with tears in my eyes, thinking about how unfair life had been to me. I blamed my biological mother for giving me up and whatever debt she might have owed them. I didn't even know what she had done. Behind me, I could hear the family's loud laughter coming from the executive lounge. My name is Mia Edwards, and this is my story. I'm twenty-three years old. My complexion is fair with a subtle pink undertone. I'm beautiful, but my family has made me believe otherwise. According to my mother, the only beautiful things about me are my deep gold hair, which cascades down my shoulders, and my olive skin. I feel like an alien, always lonely and depressed. I rarely hang out with friends because I spend most of my time trying to improve myself, yet nothing ever seems to work out for me. Five years ago, I was admitted to the College of Medicine, but I was expelled after two years for failing to meet the academic standards. I disappointed myself and Princess Isla, who had given me a scholarship. Writing stories is my passion, but I have never managed to overcome my struggles with writing. I wanted to publish a story about my life, but every publishing company that reviewed my manuscript told me there was nothing interesting about it. One after another, they rejected my work. My boyfriend proposed to me five months ago, but he called off our engagement after I slapped one of his father's business associates who was determined to ruin my life. His family immediately rejected me. I apologized for what I had done, and they accepted my apology, but they still refused to accept me into their family. All these rejections made me feel as though I would never be good enough for anyone. I sat on my bed, crying like a child. I blew my nose and sobbed uncontrollably, unaware that someone was standing in the doorway. "Mia, it's okay," Princess Isla said softly. I looked up at her as she closed the door and walked toward me. Princess Isla was Queenie's future sister-in-law. She liked me and always treated me with respect. "Blessings come in different forms, Mia. Blessed are those who can see beauty in humble places where others see nothing. Wipe your tears and get ready to meet your husband tomorrow," Princess Isla said. "They hate me, and I know they'll give me to the most horrible man in the world," I whimpered. "What kind of man do you want to marry?" she asked, sitting beside me. "I want a man who will love me unconditionally." "Do you have anyone in mind?" "No," I replied. "Don't worry, Mia. You have a pure heart, and the wishes of a pure heart never go in vain," Isla said in a soothing voice. Her words gave me the courage and determination to face whatever life had in store for me. After a brief silence, the Princess took a deep breath and stood up. "I should be going now. Don't forget what I told you. By the way, I love your deep gold hair," she said with a grin, as though she were seeing it for the first time. She turned and walked toward the door. I rose from the bed and went to the window. Outside, I saw Queenie waiting impatiently for Princess Isla. I stared at my sister's red gold hair, which seemed to glow around her head, her blue eyes, her radiant skin, and her tall, slender figure. She looked like the very definition of beauty. Queenie was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. The five white, latest model Volvos in her convoy suited her personality perfectly. Six armed security guards stood at the gate, protecting her from kidnappers and paparazzi because she was a celebrity. Apart from being the Prince's betrothed, Queenie was also a television presenter. She hosted a program every Saturday called *Inside the Palace*, which had made her incredibly popular. When Princess Isla came out, they entered their cars in grand style and drove away. Mom and Dad watched them until the convoy disappeared from sight. I returned to my bed and began wondering what kind of man I would meet the following morning. I was certain he would be a disabled man who needed a caregiver, a blind man who needed someone to help him, or an old man who was old enough to be my father. I believed healthy, young men didn't need matrimonial websites because they could get any woman they wanted. I looked around my room and slowly began packing my belongings, tears rolling down my cheeks. Even though I was about to have a home of my own, I felt as though I had been thrown out onto the streets with nowhere to go.