The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 113

The Perfect Ghost

A knock at the door.

Alina closed the journal quickly. Slipped it into the desk drawer.

“Come in.”

A young maid entered. Not Mrs. Helen, but a different young maid than before.

“Mrs. Blackwood. Dinner is ready. Mrs. Margaret requests you join the family in the main dining room.”

Alina stared out the window, only then realizing that it was already dark outside. She stood up.

After a few minutes of getting ready, Alina walked over to the mirror.

Checked her appearance.

Hair neat. Dress appropriate. Makeup covering the exhaustion.

The perfect mask.

She looked like Mrs. Blackwood.

Presentable. Dignified. Emotionless.

“I’m ready.”

“This way, Ma’am.”

Alina followed the maid into the corridor.

Toward the dining room where her family waited.

The family that didn’t want her.

Behind her, the bedroom door closed.

Without Aliana realizing it, thirty seconds later, the door opened again

Mr. Harris entered quietly. One of the security guards behind him carrying a small case.

They moved efficiently. Professionally.

Camera one: hidden in the smoke detector above the bed.

Camera two: embedded in the decorative mirror frame.

Camera three: inside the closet, angled at the desk.

Five minutes. Complete coverage.

Mr. Harris pulled out his tablet. Checked the feeds.

Three perfect angles. Clear video. Audio functional.

Alina’s empty room displayed on three separate screens.

The bed she slept in.

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The desk where she’d been writing.

The bathroom door she locked when she cried.

All of it visible now.

All of it monitored.

Mr. Harris stared at the screens.

At the invasion of privacy he’d just enabled.

At the violation of trust.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to the empty room.

Feeling guilty toward Alina and her own conscience. But he had to keep her job–he needed it.

Mrs. Harris finished the installation anyway.

Encrypted the feed to Margaret’s private server.

Tested the remote access.

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Everything working perfectly.

He gathered his equipment.

Left the room exactly as it had been.

Locked the door behind him.

In Margaret’s sitting room, three new windows opened on her computer screen.

Live feeds from Alina’s room.

Margaret leaned back in her chair.

Smiled.

Now she would see everything.

Every moment Alina thought was private.

Every plan she might be making.

Margaret would know it all.

And when Alina finally made her move–Because Margaret was certain she would–Margaret would be ready.

***

In the dining room, Alina took her assigned seat.

Far end of the table. Just as she thought.

Daniel at the head. Clarissa to his right with Junior beside her.

And Margaret, who had just arrived, immediately sat down across from Clarissa.

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Alina alone at the far end.

Part of the family.

Separated from the family.

The perfect visual metaphor.

Junior glanced at her once. Looked away.

Clarissa smiled pleasantly. “Alina. How nice to have you join us.”

“Thank you for including me.”

The words were ash in her mouth.

But she said them.

Because that’s what Mrs. Blackwood would do.

Daniel looked at Alina sitting alone at the far end of the table.

Something tightened in his chest.

It looked wrong.

Alina should be beside him. In the chair Clarissa now occupied. Where a wife belonged.

But he’d already pushed Mother once this week. Already demanded Alina be allowed at family dinners again.

Asking for more–asking for Clarissa to move, for Alina to take her rightful place–would undo that fragile progress.

Margaret had made a concession. Let Alina join them.

That was enough for now.

Daniel told himself it was strategic. Patient. Smart.

One step at a time. Prove Alina could be trusted at the table. Then gradually restore her position.

Margaret would see reason eventually.

If Alina stayed compliant.

“Let’s eat,” Daniel said.

No one objected.

Clarissa engaged Junior in conversation about his day. Margaret commented on the meal preparation. Daniel reviewed something on his phone between bites.

Normal family dinner.

With one silent figure at the end of the table.

Alina ate mechanically. Barely tasting the food.

Smiled when appropriate.

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Said nothing unless asked a direct question.

The perfect ghost.

Across the city, in a small office that smelled of coffee and old law books, Emma Carter sat across from Rachel Chen at a cluttered desk.

“We’re running out of time,” Emma said, tapping her phone against her palm. Anxious. Frustrated. “It’s been almost three weeks since the basement incident. Three weeks of radio silence.”

Rachel leaned back in her chair, exhaustion evident in the lines around her eyes. “I know. But without direct contact from Alina, without evidence of abuse or illegal detention, my hands are tied.”

“She tried to leave! You already knew that. We even prepared the car!”

“And she never showed up. Which legally means she chose to stay.” Rachel rubbed her temples. “Family law doesn’t work on hunches, Emma. I need proof. Documentation. Testimony. Something concrete.”

“What about the drugged tea? “Mrs. Helen said she kept the cup-”

“Which we don’t have. And even if we did, Margaret claims it was tested and came back clean for everything except chamomile.” Rachel’s voice was gentle but firm. “They’ve covered their tracks well.”

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