The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 13

The New Routine

On the sixth day after the gala dinner, Alina woke to the sound of conversation in the corridor–familiar but unpleasant.

Clarissa.

“…already very excited for today. I’ll start with the morning routine, taking Junior to school, then picking him up…”

Margaret’s voice responded with warm approval. “Good. Consistency is key. The more time you spend with him, the faster he’ll adjust.”

The sound of high heels passed Alina’s bedroom door–Clarissa and Margaret walking toward the stairs, probably going down for breakfast with Junior.

Alina sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door with an empty feeling in her chest.

This was starting now. The mandated bonding time Daniel had outlined last night before he left.

After Alina signed the prenuptial agreement, Daniel had outlined the new schedule with clinical precision–like drafting a business plan.

Starting today, Clarissa would take over Junior’s morning routine. She would come at seven for breakfast together, take Junior to school at eight, pick Junior up from school at noon, then spend time together until evening–playing, having lunch together, reading, bonding activities.

And Alina? She was “welcome” to observe from a distance during time at home. But couldn’t interfere during mornings or when Clarissa was with Junior after school. Couldn’t participate unless asked.

Essentially–Alina was excluded from all the routines that for five years had been their ritual. No more breakfast with Junior. No more taking him to school while listening to stories about last night’s dreams. No more picking him up and hearing excited stories about what he learned today.

Systematic torture. Calculated.

A soft knock on the door.

“Ma’am?” Mrs. Helen’s voice. “Breakfast is ready. Should I bring it up or would Ma’am like to come down?”

Go down. Meant facing Clarissa and Margaret. Watching them interact with Junior as if Alina were invisible.

“Just bring it up, Mrs. Helen. Thank you.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

But five minutes later, it wasn’t Mrs. Helen who entered with the breakfast tray-

-but Mr. Harris.

The head of security stood in the doorway with a tray in hand, expression uncomfortable.

“Mrs. Helen is busy in the kitchen,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Mr. Daniel asked me to bring this.”

Alina looked at the man who had essentially been her guard for the past week. “Mr. Harris, may I ask you something?”

“Depends on the question, Ma’am.”

“Do you have children?”

Mr. Harris paused briefly, then nodded. “Two. Girls. Eight and ten years old.”

“If you were in my position,” Alina looked at him with tired but steady eyes, “if someone tried to take your daughters, but you were forced to watch and not allowed to fight back what would you do?”

Mr. Harris placed the tray on the table with careful movements, then turned to look at Alina.

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“I would find a way to protect them,” he said in a low voice. “By any means. Legal or not.”

“Even if it meant going against the person who pays your salary?”

A long pause.

“Mr. Blackwood is my boss,” Mr. Harris finally said. “But I also have a conscience. And what I see happening in this house…” he shook his head slowly, “this isn’t right. Especially for a child that small.”

Alina felt something–a small spark of something almost like hope.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For the honesty.”

Mr. Harris nodded, walking to the door. But before leaving, he stopped.

“Mrs. Blackwood, my advice–comply for now. Don’t give them reason to increase the pressure. But…” he looked at her with a meaningful gaze, “document everything. Every conversation. Every incident. If someday Ma’am needs evidence, you’ll have it.”

Then he left, leaving Alina with advice that was surprisingly helpful.

Document everything.

But with what? Daniel had already confiscated her phone and laptop. She had no camera. No recording device.

Except…

Alina walked to the drawer of her small desk, opening the bottom drawer.

There, hidden under a pile of old magazines, was a small notebook with a blue cover–a gift from Emma last year for ” journaling.”

Alina had never used it. But now…

She took the notebook, opened the first page, and began writing with a trembling pen.

Day 6 – Morning

Daniel forced me to sign a new prenuptial agreement. Terms: no alimony, no property, no custody if divorce before 10 years. Threatened family debt ($8.2 million) if I refused.

Clarissa taking over all routines with Junior starting today. Breakfast, school drop–off, pick–up, after–school time. I’m only

–not allowed to participate. allowed to observe from a distance-

Daniel threatened boarding school in Switzerland if I don’t comply.

Alina stared at her writing–crude evidence, but at least it was something.

She hid the notebook back in the drawer, under the magazines, then picked up the breakfast that had already gone cold.

From her bedroom window, Alina could see below—to the mansion’s front yard where the black SUV was already ready.

At fifteen minutes to eight, Clarissa emerged from the main entrance with Junior beside her.

The boy wore his school uniform–white shirt, navy blue pants, backpack on his small back. But his posture was stiff. There was no excited bounce in his steps like usual when Alina took him.

Clarissa held Junior’s hand–too tightly, possessive–while talking animatedly. From this distance, Alina couldn’t hear her words, but could see how Junior just nodded slightly, not responding with enthusiasm.

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