The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 40

The Next Move

Daniel stood outside Alina’s room, hand raised to knock, then hesitated.

He’d been standing there for nearly five minutes. Frozen. Unable to decide whether to enter or leave.

Every instinct told him to go in. To check on her. To make sure she was okay. To say… something. Anything.

But the memory of her cold dismissal earlier–the way she’d knocked his hand away, the emptiness in her eyes — stopped him.

What would he even say?

“I’m sorry“? For what, exactly? For bringing Clarissa back? For locking her in her room? For letting Junior be taken away piece by piece?

For all of it?

The words felt inadequate. Hollow.

So he just stood there. Outside her door. Like a coward.

Footsteps on the stairs made him turn.

Mrs. Helen appeared, slightly out of breath, carrying a small pharmacy bag.

Mr. Blackwood,” she said, stopping when she saw him. “I have the medications.

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Daniel nodded, taking the bag from her hands. He pulled out the antibiotic bottle, reading the label with unnecessary focus.

“Mrs. Helen,” he said without looking up, “make sure Alina takes these. Three times a day with food. Don’t let her skip doses.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Helen hesitated, then added quietly, “Sir… Mrs. Blackwood hasn’t eaten since this morning.”

Daniel’s head snapped up. “What?”

“She refused breakfast. And the soup at lunch…” Mrs. Helen’s voice trailed off, clearly not wanting to mention what happened with the soup. “She hasn’t eaten anything all day.”

Daniel’s jaw clenched. His hands tightened around the medication bag until the plastic crinkled.

“Bring her dinner,” he ordered, voice harder than intended. “Something light. Soup–no, not soup. Porridge. And make sure she eats before taking the antibiotics.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mrs. Helen turned to leave, but Daniel’s voice stopped her.

“Mrs. Helen.”

She turned back. “Sir?”

Daniel stared at the closed door, conflicting emotions warring across his face.

“If she refuses to eat,” he said quietly, “call me.”

Mrs. Helen’s eyes widened slightly surprise and something that might be understanding.

“Yes, sir,” she said softly. “I will.”

She hurried away, leaving Daniel alone in the corridor again.

He stared at the door a moment longer, then turned and walked away–reluctant, heavy steps.

He couldn’t face Alina. Not yet.

Not when he didn’t know what to say. Not when he didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken.

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Daniel was halfway to his study when Margaret’s voice stopped him.

“Daniel.”

He turned to find his mother at the top of the stairs, expression carefully composed.

“We need to talk,” she said. Not a request.

Daniel suppressed a sigh. “About what?“”

“Clarissa,”

Of course.

Margaret walked past him toward his study, clearly expecting him to follow. Daniel did–because refusing would only prolong the inevitable conversation.

yet.

In the study, Margaret settled into one of the leather chairs with practiced grace. Daniel remained standing, arms crossed, waiting.

“Clarissa wants to move into the mansion,” Margaret said without preamble. “For Junior’s sake.”

Daniel’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

“Daniel-

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“I said no.” His voice was firm. Final.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You haven’t even heard the reasoning.”

“I don’t need to. Alina is still my wife. This is still her home. Clarissa moving in would be-” He stopped, searching for the right word. “Inappropriate.”

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“Inappropriate?” Margaret’s tone sharpened. “What’s inappropriate is keeping your son separated from his- biological mother. Clarissa can only see Junior during the day. She leaves every evening. How is she supposed to build a real relationship with him like that?”

“She can visit – ”

“Visiting isn’t enough, Daniel.” Margaret stood, moving closer. “Junior needs consistency. He needs his mother there when he wakes up, when he goes to sleep, for bedtime stories and morning routines. You can’t build that in a few hours a day.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Junior has

“Junior has what?” Margaret cut in, voice sharp. “Alina? A woman who isn’t his real mother? A contract wife who was never meant to be permanent?”

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The words hit harder than Daniel expected. But he kept his expression controlled.

“Alina has raised Junior for five years,” he said quietly. “She’s the only mother he’s known.”

“Exactly.” Margaret’s voice softened, became persuasive. “The only mother he’s known. But not his real mother. And every day that Clarissa isn’t fully in his life, you’re choosing Alina over your son’s actual family.”

Daniel flinched. Slight, but Margaret saw it.

She pressed her advantage.

“Junior needs his real mother, Daniel. And the longer you keep Clarissa at arm’s length–keep her as just a visitor –the harder it will be for him to accept her. Is that what you want? For Junior to keep clinging to Alina, to keep resisting Clarissa, because you’re not committed enough to make this transition work?”

“That’s not-”

“Isn’t it?” Margaret moved even closer, voice dropping to something almost gentle. “Daniel, I know this is difficult. But you need to think about Junior. What’s best for him. And what’s best is having his biological mother in his life. Fully. Not halfway.”

Silence.

Daniel turned away, walking to the window. Staring out at the garden below where Junior had played just hours

ago.

His mother’s words echoed in his head.

“Choosing Alina over your son’s actual family.”

“Keep clinging to Alina.”

“Not committed enough.

Was that true? Was his… whatever he felt for Alina… interfering with what was best for Junior?

“Daniel.” Margaret’s voice was softer now. “I’m not asking you to throw Alina out. I’m asking you to let Clarissa be part of this household. For Junior. Just for a while, until he’s fully comfortable with her.”

Daniel’s hands clenched on the windowsill.

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He thought of Junior’s empty eyes. The mechanical way he colored. The forced smiles.

Was that because of Clarissa? Or because of the situation as a whole?

Would having Clarissa here constantly make it better? Or worse?

“Fine,” he said finally, voice low. “Clarissa can move in.”

Margaret’s relief was visible. “Thank you, Daniel. This is the right-

“But,” Daniel turned, voice hardening, “Alina is not to be bothered. She keeps her room, her space, her routine. Clarissa doesn’t interfere with her. At all. Are we clear?”

Margaret’s smile was cool. “Of course. Clarissa will respect boundaries.”

A lie. They both knew it was a lie.

But Daniel was too tired, too conflicted, to push further

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“I’ll tell Clarissa she can move in tomorrow,” Margaret said, already moving toward the door. “She’ll be so pleased.”

She left, leaving Daniel alone in the study.

He slumped into his desk chair, running both hands through his hair.

What was he doing?

Allowing Clarissa to move in while Alina was still here–injured, withdrawn, barely holding on-

It felt like a betrayal.

But wasn’t keeping Clarissa away also a betrayal? To Junior? To the commitment he’d made when he asked her to come back?

Daniel didn’t know anymore.

Didn’t know what was right.

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ཟ ༤ས རྡོ དྲི བདག:སྤྱི:མངསབགཤི|

ཕྱིས: ཟཉྩི སྒོར བྱས བཱང་ སྟེགི

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Didn’t know how to fix any of this without hurting someone.

And the worst part–the part that scared him most-

Was that the person he was most afraid of hurting was Alina.

Not Junior. Not Clarissa. Not his mother.

Alina.

When had that happened?

When had Alina become the person whose pain affected him most?

He didn’t have an answer.

****

17

LE

Mrs. Helen knocked softly on Alina’s door, balancing a tray with porridge, water, and the antibiotics.

“Mrs. Blackwood?” she called gently. “I have your dinner and medication.”

“Come in.”

Mrs. Helen entered to find Alina sitting by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. Her bandaged hand rested in her lap.

“I brought porridge,” Mrs. Helen said, setting the tray on the table. “And the antibiotics. Mr. Blackwood insists you eat before taking them.”

Alina didn’t move. Didn’t even look at the food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Mrs. Blackwood, please. You haven’t eaten all day. And the antibiotics will upset your stomach if-

“I’ll take the antibiotics,” Alina cut in, voice flat. “You don’t need to worry about the food.”

She stood, walked to the table, and picked up the antibiotic pill. Swallowed it dry, without water.

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