The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 105

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“Do you? Do you actually know what this is like? Being erased piece by piece while everyone watches and approves?”

“I’m not erasing you—”

“Then what do you call it?” She pulled her wrist free. “I’m not Junior’s mother. I’m not the lady of this house. I’m

not your real wife. What am I, Daniel? What’s left of me that hasn’t been reassigned to Clarissa?”

He had no answer.

Alina walked away before he could find one.

The dinner ended at ten.

Guests departed with handshakes and promises to follow up on business discussions.

Margaret pronounced the evening a success.

Clarissa retired to the west wing with a satisfied smile.

Daniel disappeared into his study with paperwork.

And Alina climbed the stairs to the isolated room that was now her cage.

She changed out of the dress. Hung it back in the closet.

Washed her face. Removed the makeup.

Sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

For what, she didn’t know.

A sign. A message. Confirmation that Mrs. Helen had received the note and passed it to Emma.

Anything

The door opened around eleven.

Daniel, finally done with work.

He looked tired. Older than his years.

“That went well,” he said, loosening his tie.

Alina said nothing.

“The Henderson deal will probably close next month. Chen is interested in the Singapore expansion. Mother was pleased.”

Still nothing.

Daniel paused in the middle of undressing. “Are you going to talk to me at all?”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Anything. You’ve been… distant. More than usual.”

Alina almost laughed. Distant. As if she had any choice in the matter.

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“I’m tired, Daniel. I’ve said that before.”

“It’s more than tired.” He sat on the opposite end of the bed. “You’re… different. Since you asked for the divorce.”

“I told you to forget that.”

“I can’t.” He looked at her directly. “Did you mean it? Do you really want to end this marriage?”

Alina met his gaze.

Honest answer or strategic one?

She chose strategy.

“Does it matter what I want? You’ve made it clear what this marriage is. A contract. An arrangement. I’ve fulfilled my end. So have you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

Daniel’s hands clasped between his knees. “I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“Then let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

The question hung between them.

Daniel’s expression shifted through several emotions too fast to track.

“Because,” he said finally, “you’re my wife.”

“That’s not a reason. That’s a title.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Is it?” Alina’s voice was soft. Sad. “What does being your wife actually mean, Daniel? What does it give me that’s worth staying for?”

He had no answer to that either.

Alina lay down, turned away from him, pulled the covers up.

“Good night, Daniel.”

Behind her, she heard him sit in silence for a long moment.

Then movement. The bathroom door closing. Water running.

When he finally came to bed, he stayed on his side.

The distance between them felt like miles.

***

Sunday morning came with rain.

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Alina woke to the sound of it against the windows. Grey light filtering through clouds.

Daniel’s side of the bed was empty. Already up. Already working probably.

She lay there listening to the rain and thought about the note.

Four days now.

Maybe it had failed. Maybe this was all there was–endless days in this room, endless dinners playing roles, endless slow erasure of everything she’d been.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

“Come in.”

The young cleaning maid entered. The same one from Thursday.

Alina sat up slowly.

The maid glanced at the door. Nervous.

Then crossed quickly to the bed and pressed something small into Alina’s hand.

A folded piece of paper.

“From Mrs. Helen,” she whispered. “She said be careful.”

7

Then she was gone. Back to her cleaning cart in the corridor before anyone could see.

Alina’s hands shook as she unfolded the note.

Mrs. Helen’s careful handwriting:

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