The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 194

At Blackwood Mansion, Mrs. Helen had just finished preparing breakfast when Mr. Harris called her to the second floor corridor. The man stood with his usual upright posture, his expression flat and unreadable.

"Clean Mrs. Alina's and Mr. Daniel's room today," Mr. Harris said briefly. "Until it's spotless. Make sure everything is tidy."

Mrs. Helen frowned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harris. Why suddenly—"

"Mrs. Alina will be coming home from the hospital soon."

Those words fell like a stone on Mrs. Helen's chest.

Her body tensed. "Coming home?" she repeated, her voice almost catching. "But... isn't Mrs. Alina still receiving treatment? Her condition is still—"

"That is not your concern," Mr. Harris interrupted, his tone firm. "Your job is only to clean the room. Don't cause trouble, Mrs. Helen. Just carry out what you've been told."

Mrs. Helen stared at Mr. Harris, her mouth opening to protest. But Mr. Harris had already turned and walked away, ending the conversation before it could begin.

Mrs. Helen stood alone in the corridor, her heart pounding.

Alina would be coming back.

Back to the place that had nearly killed her. Back to isolation, to control, to the hell that had made that woman thin and fragile like a shadow of her former self.

No.

Mrs. Helen couldn't let that happen.

She took a breath, gathered her resolve, then walked toward Alina's room with quickened steps.

---

The moment the bedroom door closed behind her, Mrs. Helen didn't immediately clean anything.

She stood still for a moment, her eyes sweeping the entire room.

This room looked so normal. So beautiful. A large bed with silk sheets, expensive curtains hanging gracefully, luxurious furniture gleaming under the morning light. Nothing indicated that in this room a woman had been slowly destroyed for months.

As if Alina's suffering had been cleanly erased from these walls.

But Mrs. Helen knew better.

She remembered something. Some time ago, when she was still permitted to enter this room, she had seen something odd in one of the upper corners of the wall. A small black dot with the glint of a lens. At the time she thought she might just be seeing things—a shadow or a stain. But over the past few days, when she was no longer allowed in, that thought kept haunting her.

A hidden CCTV camera.

It was entirely possible that Alina had been monitored secretly all this time. Every movement, every tear, every fragile moment—recorded without her knowledge.

And if such recordings truly existed, they could become evidence. Evidence of isolation. Evidence of Alina's suffering. Evidence that could save her in court.

Mrs. Helen approached the corner she had once been suspicious of. Her eyes traced the wall carefully, her fingers feeling along the smooth surface.

But there was nothing.

The corner was empty. Clean. No black dot, no lens, no sign that anything had ever been there.

Mrs. Helen frowned.

Had she really been imagining things? Or... had the camera been moved?

That second thought actually made her more certain. If the camera had indeed once been there and was now gone, it meant someone had deliberately moved it—perhaps because they knew someone was starting to get suspicious.

Mrs. Helen didn't give up. She began searching in other places. Behind picture frames. Between bookshelf gaps. In the folds of curtains. In ceiling corners. Her eyes moved quickly, her heart pounding from a mixture of hope and fear of being caught.

---

What Mrs. Helen didn't realize was that in another room, Mr. Harris was watching her.

On his tablet screen, an image of Alina's room was clearly displayed—taken from a camera whose location had been moved a few days ago. The new camera only captured the general area of the room, not directed at the bed or private corners. A decision Mr. Harris had made himself, though he never truly acknowledged his reasons.

He watched Mrs. Helen search desperately, feeling along the walls, opening curtain folds, tracing every corner.

Suspicion still existed within him. This woman was clearly seeking evidence to use against Mr. Daniel. An action that, under normal circumstances, he would have reported immediately.

But something was different in him today.

Mrs. Helen's words from yesterday still echoed in his head, disturbing his sleep all night.

Mrs. Alina has the right to be free. The right to live her own life. Just like all of us.

Mr. Harris looked at that tablet screen for a long time. Then, slowly, he turned it off.

---

That afternoon, Mr. Harris called Mrs. Helen to his office.

Mrs. Helen came with heavy steps and a chest filled with anxiety. She had prepared herself for the worst—dismissal, threats, perhaps a direct report to Daniel. She knew Mr. Harris must have seen her searching the room earlier.

She stepped in and stood before Mr. Harris's desk, waiting for the verdict.

But Mr. Harris didn't immediately speak.

He sat in his chair, hands folded on the desk, his eyes staring at one empty point in the distance. That silence stretched long—so long that Mrs. Helen began to shift restlessly.

Then, finally, Mr. Harris spoke. His voice quiet. Different from usual.

"How bad is Mrs. Alina's condition really?"

Mrs. Helen was stunned.

Of everything she had imagined would come from Mr. Harris's mouth, this wasn't one of them. This wasn't an order. Not a threat. Not an accusation.

This was a question.

A question from someone who wanted to know.

Mrs. Helen swallowed, gathering her courage. When she spoke, her voice trembled but was honest.

"You know as well as I do, Mr. Harris," she said quietly. "I know you also saw it. For months, in this house. Mrs. Alina suffered. She lost so much weight she could barely stand. She stopped smiling. She stopped speaking." Mrs. Helen drew a trembling breath. "And one night... she almost ended everything. I was the one who found her. If I had been even a little late, Mrs. Alina might not be here now."

Mr. Harris didn't move. But his jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes.

"She never complained," Mrs. Helen continued, her voice growing quieter. "Even until the last moment, she never asked for help, never blamed anyone. But her body was dying, Mr. Harris. Her soul was destroyed. And now, she is pregnant. Carrying a life in the midst of all that suffering." Mrs. Helen looked at Mr. Harris directly. "And they want to bring her back here. To the same place that nearly killed her."

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