The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 43

At ten past five in the evening, Alina’s bedroom door opened slowly.

Mrs. Helen entered with a dinner tray–chicken soup, white rice, and warm tea. But what made Alina’s heart beat faster wasn’t the food.

Under the napkin covering the tray, there was something rectangular in shape. Small. Hidden.

Mrs. Helen closed the door with her foot–gentle but firm–then walked to the table with calculated movements

to appear normal if anyone was watching through cameras (though Alina was fairly certain there were no cameras in her room, but they couldn’t take the risk).

“Dinner for Ma’am,” said Mrs. Helen in a voice slightly louder than usual–for the benefit of anyone who might be listening from outside. “Fresh chicken soup. Still warm.”

She placed the tray on the table, arranging the plates with deliberate movements.

Then, with a very subtle gesture–almost invisible–she shifted the napkin slightly, revealing the small box underneath.

Alina’s eyes met Mrs. Helen’s.

The old woman nodded once. Barely perceptible.

“Ma’am must eat everything,” she said in a meaning–laden tone. “Everything on this tray. Understand?”

“I understand,” Alina whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you, Mrs. Helen.”

Mrs. Helen smiled thinly–there was pride there, and also fear, but determination stronger than both.

“I’ll come back for the tray in an hour,” she said, her voice returning to normal. “Make sure Ma’am has finished eating by then.”

She turned, walked to the door, opened it-

And almost bumped into Clarissa standing right outside.

Mrs. Helen flinched, stepping back slightly. “M–Mrs. Clarissa. I didn’t know you were there.”

Clarissa smiled–bright, friendly, but there was something sharp in her eyes. Calculating.

“Sorry to startle you,” she said in a light voice. “I was just passing by. Wanted to see the rooms in this corridor. Getting familiar with the mansion’s layout.”

She peeked over Mrs. Helen’s shoulder, staring into Alina’s room.

Alina stood beside the table–her hand had touched the tray but hadn’t picked anything up yet. Her position was stiff, alert.

Clarissa’s and Alina’s eyes met.

For a brief moment, the two women stood there–locked in silent battle.

Then Clarissa smiled wider—a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Alina,” she greeted in a tone too familiar. “I heard your hand was injured. How is it now, is it better?”

A question that sounded concerned, but with a clear undertone: I know you’re hurt. I know you’re weak.

“Better,” Alina answered in a flat voice. “Thank you for asking.”

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“Thank goodness.” Clarissa leaned against the door frame with a casual posture–too casual for someone who was practically a stranger talking to the legal wife of the house owner. “I heard you were locked in your room to rest. Daniel is so attentive, isn’t he. Always thinking about the health of people around him.”

Words designed to hurt. And they succeeded.

But Alina didn’t react. Didn’t give Clarissa the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.

“Yes,” she said in an equally casual tone. “Daniel is indeed attentive.”

Silence for a moment.

Mrs. Helen stood between them, uncomfortable, clearly wanting to leave but unable to without looking suspicious.

Clarissa finally straightened up, smoothing her dust–free dress.

“Well, I don’t want to disturb your dinner,” she said with a smile that was too sweet. “Enjoy your soup, Alina. I have to get back to Junior. We’ll have dinner together, after that I’ll read him a bedtime story.”

Those last words “bedtime story“-delivered with surgical precision. Because Clarissa knew. Everyone knew. That was Alina and Junior’s ritual. A ritual now taken away.

Alina didn’t answer. Just stared with empty eyes–or rather, eyes that very carefully hid boiling anger.

Clarissa smiled once more, then turned and left–her steps light, victorious.

Mrs. Helen waited until the sound of Clarissa’s footsteps had completely faded before looking at Alina with a worried expression.

“Ma’am must be careful,” she whispered urgently. “She’s suspicious. I can see it.”

“I know,” Alina answered quietly. “But it’s okay. I’ll be careful.”

Mrs. Helen hesitated for a moment, then nodded and left, closing the door gently.

The sound of the key turning was heard again.

Alina waited–counting seconds in her head–until she was sure the corridor was completely empty.

Then she turned to the tray with trembling hands.

Lifted the napkin with careful movements.

Underneath, there was a small box with a generic electronics store logo. Alina opened it with unsteady fingers.

Inside, a simple flip phone–an old, cheap model that could be bought with cash without name registration. Exactly what she had asked for.

Ara small piece of paper with Mrs. Helen’s handwriting:

“Already loaded with credit. My number is in the first contact if emergency. Be careful, Ma’am. And may God protect you.”

Alina closed her eyes briefly, feeling overwhelming relief.

This was it.

Her weapon.

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Connection to the outside world.

She hid the phone in the dresser drawer–under a stack of magazines and tissue box–then sat on the edge of the

bed.

Her hands were still trembling. Her heart was beating too fast.

But for the first time in days, she didn’t feel completely powerless.

Alina stood in the middle of the room with the small box still hidden behind her back, listening to Mrs. Helen’s footsteps fade away.

Waiting until the corridor was completely quiet.

Then she walked quickly to the bathroom–the innermost, most hidden room, where her voice wouldn’t leak outside–and closed the door.

Sitting on the floor with her back against the bathtub, Alina turned on the phone with trembling fingers. The small screen lit up with pale blue light–too bright in the dark bathroom.

She quickly lowered the brightness, her heart pounding from paranoia that someone would see the light from under the door.

Then stared at the keypad.

Emma’s number.

She still remembered it. After everything that happened, only her best friend’s number Alina knew by heart.

Alina pressed the buttons slowly–each digit chosen with careful precision, as if one mistake would make everything fall apart.

Then pressed call.

Raised the phone to her ear with trembling hands.

“Hello?”

Emma’s voice–familiar, warm, with some background noise that sounded like TV or music.

Alina closed her eyes, feeling something in her chest crack.

“Emma,” she whispered in a voice barely audible. “It’s me.”

Silence on the other line.

Then-“Alina?!”

Emma’s voice jumped–shock, relief, worry all mixed together.

“Oh my God, Alina! I’ve tried to contact you so many times! Your number wasn’t active. Emails weren’t answered. 1 came to the mansion but

I know you came here,” Alina interrupted quickly, her voice urgent. “But for now, don’t come here, Emma.

Please.”

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Silence again. Longer this time.

“Alina,” Emma’s voice was quiet now, careful. “What happened?”

And somehow, hearing that question–the simple, genuine question–made something inside Alina collapse.

Tears she had held back for days finally spilled over.

“They took Junior from me,” she whispered in a broken voice. “Daniel allowed Clarissa to move into the mansion today. And I–I’m locked in my room, Emma. Like a prisoner. I’m not allowed out without permission. Not allowed to eat with them. Not allowed to play with Junior without supervision. They erased all traces of me from this house. From Junior’s life. Like I never existed.”

She heard Emma draw a sharp breath.

“Alina, you need to get out of there. Now. I’ll come pick you up-

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“I can’t.” Alina shook her head though Emma couldn’t see. “There’s security in front of my bedroom door. The door is locked from outside. And Daniel said if I try to escape, he’ll send Junior to boarding school in Switzerland. Far from me. Forever.”

“That’s bullshit—‘

“He’s serious, Emma.” Alina’s voice was firmer now. “You don’t know Daniel like I know him. If he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it. And I can’t take that risk. Not with Junior.”

Silence again.

Alina could hear Emma breathing–fast, angry, frustrated.

“Then how can you contact me now?” Emma finally asked. “You said your phone was confiscated.”

“Mrs. Helen bought me a phone. Secretly. She’s the only person in this mansion who still cares.”

Emma was quiet for a moment, then-“Alina, listen to me. You need a lawyer. Right now. I already spoke with a lawyer Rachel–she specializes in family law and divorce cases. Very good. She’s handled complicated custody cases and won. I can contact her for you.”

Alina took a deep breath, weighing her words carefully.

“Okay. Please help contact her for me. But it has to be secretly, Emma. Very secretly. Daniel can’t know. The Blackwood family can’t know. Even the staff in this mansion can’t know.”

“Of course,” Emma answered quickly. “Rachel is very professional. She knows how to handle sensitive cases like this. All communication will be confidential.”

“But I can’t meet her in person. Not yet. I can’t leave the mansion and I can’t risk her coming here.”

“Okay, okay.” Alina could hear Emma thinking. “What if I arrange an online meeting? Video call or even just a phone call first? Rachel can assess your situation, give advice on legal steps you can take, and start preparing documentation if you decide to-” Emma stopped briefly. “For divorce or custody battle.”

Those words–divorce, custody battle–made something twist in Alina’s stomach.

but she was too far gone to back down now.

“Yes,” she said in a firmer voice. “Arrange that. But Emma, timing has to be right. I’ll contact you again when it’s safe for a meeting. Maybe a few days. Maybe a week. I don’t know.”

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“I understand. I’ll tell Rachel to be on standby. And Alina—” Emma’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “You need to start documenting everything for evidence. Every time they lock you in your room. Every time they separate you from Junior. Every threat Daniel makes. Rachel will need proof to build a strong case.”

Alina nodded slowly though Emma couldn’t see. “I will.”

“Good.” There was a pause, then Emma added in a softer voice. “Alina, I know this is scary. But you’re doing the right thing. For yourself and for Junior.”

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