The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 28

“JUNIOR!”

The boy jerked, looking at his father with wide eyes–fear mixing with something else.

“You can’t keep being like this,” Daniel said, voice hard now. “Mama Alina won’t come down again. You have to stop asking for her. Have to stop acting like a baby. You’re already six years old–it’s time to behave like a proper Blackwood!”

Junior’s lower lip trembled. “But Junior wants-”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU WANT!” Daniel’s voice thundered now–louder than intended, harsher than intended.

Junior recoiled, hugging his robot tighter.

“You listen to Papa now,” Daniel continued, words pouring out with anger fueled by guilt, frustration, and manipulation from Margaret and Clarissa. “No more crying for Alina. No more tantrums. No more refusing to listen. You will behave. You will cooperate with Mama Clarissa. And you will stop acting like Alina is the only person who matters!”

Each word was like a slap.

Junior sat there–frozen–with eyes slowly filling with tears.

“Is Papa clear?” Daniel’s voice still hard, demanding.

Junior didn’t answer. Just stared with an expression that was somehow worse than crying.

Betrayal. Pure, complete betrayal.

“JUNIOR, I’M ASKING IS PAPA CLEAR?”

“Yes, Papa,” Junior finally whispered. Voice so small, so broken. “Junior understands.”

But there was something in the child’s eyes. Something that extinguished.

Hope. Trust. Love.

All gone in an instant.

Daniel looked at his son, suddenly uncertain. There was a part of him–small, quickly suppressed—that realized he had just crossed a line. crossed

But Margaret’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing with approval.

“Good,” Margaret said. “This is what Junior needs. Firm guidance.”

“Now,” Daniel said, voice slightly softer but still firm. “You will eat dinner properly. Will play with Mama Clarissa. And will stop all this nonsense. Understand?”

Junior nodded–mechanical, lifeless.

“Good.” Daniel stood. “Papa will be in the study. If Papa hears you’re acting up again–there will be more serious consequences.

”

He turned, walking to the door.

Behind him, Junior sat in the bean bag–still as a statue–with silent tears flowing down his cheeks.

No sobs. No sound.

Just tears and an expression somehow more devastating than any tantrum.

Clarissa approached Junior with a forced smile. “Come on, dear. Let’s play something fun-”

“Junior wants to be alone.”

Voice flat. Empty.

“But Junior-”

“Please.” Junior looked at Clarissa with dead eyes. “Junior wants to be alone.”

Clarissa looked at Margaret with frustration.

Margaret just shrugged. “Let him. He’ll learn eventually.”

They left, leaving Junior alone in a playroom that was suddenly too big, too quiet.

The boy sat there–holding a robot he wasn’t playing with–with tears still flowing.

“Mama,” he whispered to the emptiness. “Junior is sorry. Junior tried to be good. But Junior can’t.”

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