The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 26

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The Locked Door

Alina still sat on the same sofa—the same position–since her father left twenty minutes ago.

The tears had stopped. What remained was only numbness. Emptiness.

Mr. Harris stood in the corridor, watching her with a tight jaw. Mrs. Helen beside him, clutching her apron with anxious hands.

They knew they should ask Mrs. Blackwood to return to her room. That was protocol. That’s what Mr. Blackwood expected.

But seeing the woman sitting there–back straight but somehow broken, eyes empty staring at nothing—they didn’t have the

heart to do it.

“Mrs. Helen,” Mr. Harris’s voice was low. “Make warm tea for Mrs. Blackwood.”

Mrs. Helen nodded quickly, grateful for an excuse to move, to do something helpful however small.

Alina didn’t react. Didn’t look at them. Just sat with hands in her lap, staring at nothing.

In her head, her father’s voice still echoed.

“Papa loves you. Always. No matter what.”

But love wasn’t enough. Love didn’t pay off debts. Didn’t unlock doors. Didn’t bring Junior back into her arms.

Love only made all of this more painful.

The sound of a car from outside.

Alina didn’t move. Didn’t care.

But Mr. Harris immediately became alert, stepping to the window.

“Mrs. Blackwood…” His voice hesitant. “Miss Sterling and Young Master Junior are home.”

Something flickered in Alina’s eyes. Small. But there.

Junior.

The front door opened. Clarissa’s voice–cheerful, artificial.

“Junior, dear, be careful. Don’t rush-

“MAMA!”

That voice–high–pitched, desperate, full of relief–shattered Alina’s numbness like glass breaking.

Small footsteps running. Fast. Uncoordinated.

“MAMA! MAMA’S HERE!”

Alina stood–instinctive—just as Junior burst into the living room.

The boy still wore his slightly disheveled school uniform, backpack still on, but he didn’t care. Junior’s eyes immediately locked on Alina with an expression of pure joy mixed with relief.

“MAMA!”

Junior ran–full speed–and crashed into Alina with force that almost knocked them both down.

Small hands wrapped around Alina’s waist. Face buried in her stomach. Small body trembling.

“Mama don’t leave again! Junior promises to be good! Junior promises to listen to Mama! Don’t leave again!”

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The Locked Door

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The words came out rushed, desperate–like Junior was afraid if he didn’t say it fast enough, Alina would disappear. Alina fell to her knees, hugging Junior with trembling arms, pulling him close until there was no space between them.

“Mama’s here, sweetheart. Mama’s not going anywhere.”

But those words felt like a lie on her tongue. Because Alina knew–after this, after the conversation with her father, after Daniel’s ultimatum—she had to push Junior away. Had to make him accept Clarissa.

Had to destroy this bond piece by piece until Junior no longer needed her.

But now—just for this moment–Alina let herself hold on.

Junior pulled back slightly, looking at Alina’s face with tear–filled eyes.

“Why didn’t Mama come down? Why didn’t Mama see Junior? Is Mama angry with Junior?”

“No, sweetheart. Mama’s never angry with Junior.”

“But Mama didn’t come down! Junior cried but Mama didn’t come!” Tears began falling down his chubby cheeks. “Junior thought Mama didn’t love Junior anymore.”

Something broke in Alina’s chest. Sharp. Painful.

“Mama loves Junior. Very much. Always.”

Junior hugged again–tighter–like trying to absorb the words through physical contact.

In the doorway, Clarissa stood with rigid posture. Tight jaw. Eyes narrowed with barely concealed displeasure.

But she said nothing. Couldn’t. Not in front of Junior who was clearly so happy.

Mr. Harris and Mrs. Helen still in the corridor–watching with torn expressions. They knew this scene shouldn’t be happening.

Mr. Blackwood would be furious.

But they also didn’t have the heart to stop it.

Alina wiped Junior’s tears gently, cupping the small face in her hands.

“Has Junior had lunch?”

Junior nodded. “But it wasn’t good. Junior wants Mama’s cooking.”

“Mrs. Helen will cook for Junior today, okay? Her food is delicious.”

“Junior wants to eat with Mama.”

Alina’s throat tightened. “Mama… Mama can’t, sweetheart.”

“Why?” Junior’s lower lip trembled. “Why can’t Mama eat with Junior? Doesn’t Mama want to?”

“It’s not that-”

“Then why?” Junior’s voice rose slightly–frustration and hurt mixing. “Why does Mama keep staying in her room? Why won’t Mama play with Junior anymore?”

Alina didn’t know what to answer. Couldn’t tell the truth–that she was a prisoner in her own home. That his father forbade her from seeing Junior. That she was slowly being erased from Junior’s life.

Clarissa finally stepped in with a forced smile.

“Junior, dear, Mama Alina isn’t feeling well. She needs lots of rest. You don’t want Mama to get sicker, do you?”

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Junior looked at Clarissa with an expression that was cold–too cold for a six–year–old. “Mama’s not sick. Mama’s fine.” Junior looked at Alina again. “Right, Mama?”

Alina looked into Junior’s eyes–innocent, trusting, desperate for reassurance.

And she had to lie.

“Mama’s not feeling well, sweetheart. That’s why Mama stays in her room.”

Something flickered in Junior’s eyes. Hurt. Betrayal.

Because Junior knew. Somehow, the child knew that Alina was lying.

“But if Mama’s sick, Junior can take care of Mama! Junior can bring Mama food! Junior can-”

“Junior,” Clarissa’s voice was firmer now. “Mama Alina needs rest. You can’t disturb her.”

“Junior’s not disturbing Mama!” Junior shouted now, hugging Alina tighter. “Junior loves Mama! Junior wants to be with Mama!

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“Junior, listen to Mama Rissa-”

“NOT MAMA!” Junior turned to Clarissa with blazing eyes. “Mama Rissa is NOT Junior’s mama! Mama Alina is Junior’s mama!”

Clarissa’s face hardened. Smile completely gone.

“Junior, you need to learn respect-”

“Junior doesn’t want to! Junior only wants Mama Alina!”

Clarissa took out her phone, a deliberate, threatening gesture.

“If Junior doesn’t behave, Mama will call Papa. And Papa will be angry.”

Fear flashed in Junior’s eyes. But he didn’t let go of Alina.

Alina felt the small body in her arms trembling. She knew—if Daniel came, this scene would get worse. Daniel would be furious. Would separate them by force. Would punish Junior for “misbehaving.”

“Junior,” Alina whispered, voice gentle but with a sad undertone. “Listen to Mama.”

Junior looked up, eyes glistening.

“Mama really isn’t feeling well. Mama needs rest. If Junior loves Mama, Junior has to let Mama rest. Okay?”

“But-”

“Please, sweetheart. For Mama.”

Junior looked at Alina’s face–searching, desperate to find any sign that this wasn’t real, that Mama wasn’t really pushing him

away.

But Alina maintained an expression that was gentle but firm. Pretending.

Dying inside but pretending.

“Okay,” Junior finally whispered, voice broken. “Junior will let Mama rest.”

“Good boy.” Alina kissed Junior’s forehead–lingering, memorizing the feeling. “Mama loves Junior. Very much.”

“Junior loves Mama too.”

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Alina slowly released the embrace, standing with legs that weren’t quite steady.

Clarissa immediately approached, grabbing Junior’s hand with a possessive grip.

“Come on, Junior. Let’s let Mama Alina rest. We can play in the playroom-”

“Don’t want to.”

Junior pulled his hand back, but Clarissa gripped harder.

“Junior, don’t start again–”

“LET GO!” Junior struggled. “Junior wants Mama!”

“Junior-”

“LET GO! MAMA! MAMA HELP!”

Clarissa pulled harder, trying to drag Junior out of the room.

Alina stepped forward–instinctive–but Mr. Harris was suddenly in front of her, blocking.

“Mrs. Blackwood, please.” His voice low, urgent. “Don’t make this harder.”

“But Junior-

“If Mrs. Blackwood interferes, Mr. Blackwood will-” Mr. Harris didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.

Alina knew. Daniel would use this as an excuse to restrict her more. To accelerate her father’s loan. To destroy Emma’s care

To punish everyone she loved.

“MAMA! MAMA DON’T LEAVE JUNIOR!”

Junior’s scream was desperate now, struggling in Clarissa’s increasingly tight grip.

“Mrs. Blackwood,” Mr. Harris’s voice cracked slightly. “Please. Go back to your room. Now. For everyone’s good.”

Alina looked at Junior–face wet with tears, eyes wide with panic, reaching for her with outstretched hands.

And she had to turn away.

Had to walk toward the stairs with legs that almost collapsed.

“MAMA! MAMA WHERE ARE YOU GOING? DON’T GO! MAMA!”

Each scream was like a knife in her back.

Alina began climbing the stairs, one step at a time, with Mr. Harris behind her–ensuring she complied.

“MAMA PLEASE! JUNIOR PROMISES TO BE GOOD! JUNIOR WON’T BE NAUGHTY AGAIN! MAMA!”

Junior finally broke through Clarissa’s grip with desperate force.

The boy ran–full speed–toward the stairs.

“MAMA WAIT!”

But in the rush, in the panic, Junior’s foot caught on the edge of the carpet.

He stumbled.

Fell.

Forward.

Face–first onto the marble floor with a sickening thud.

“JUNIOR!”

Alina turned, trying to run down–but Mr. Harris grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“Mrs. Blackwood, don’t-“!

“LET GO! JUNIOR FELL! LET GO OF ME!”

Alina struggled, trying to break free, but Mr. Harris was stronger.

Below, Junior lay on the floor, crying–not from pain, but from desperation.

“Mama…” A heartbreaking sob. “Junior wants Mama…”

Clarissa approached, bending down. “Junior, are you okay? Let me see-”