The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 58

Mr. Harris hesitated briefly, then nodded and stepped away, clearing the path for Clarissa. Clarissa knocked on the door–twice, sharp–then entered without waiting for an answer.

Alina stood at the window–still in the same position since the photoshoot began.

Mrs. Helen sat on a chair in the corner of the room, hands fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

“Mrs. Helen,” Clarissa said in a tone that was somehow both polite and dismissive, “you can leave now. I need to speak with Alina privately.”

Mrs. Helen hesitated. But Clarissa reassured her again.

“Daniel agreed to let me come,” Clarissa cut in with gentle firmness. “And I think Alina would prefer privacy for our conversation. Right, Alina?”

Alina turned–slowly–looking at Clarissa with a blank expression.

She didn’t answer. Just stared.

Mrs Helen glanced between them–worry clear on her face–but in the end, she couldn’t refuse. Clarissa technically had authority in this house now. As Margaret’s favorite former daughter–in–law. As Junior’s biological mother.

“If you need anything, I’ll be right outside, Mrs. Blackwood,” Mrs. Helen said quietly before leaving–reluctant, worried.

The door closed.

Just Clarissa and Alina remained.

A thick, charged silence.

Clarissa set the tray on the table with a deliberate motion–theatrical.

“My favorite soup,” she said with a cold smile. “You should try it. Daniel specially ordered it for me. Italian restaurant–the expensive one. He knows my favorite foods so well. You’ll definitely like it.”

Alina stared at the soup–steam still rising, the familiar aroma–and something cracked in her chest.

Italian soup with truffle oil and herbs. A specialty from the restaurant where she and Daniel had eaten together once–several years ago, for a business dinner with a client.

The only time Daniel had complimented her choice. Said, “Good choice.”

Two words. But somehow that was enough to make the soup special to her, so Alina often bought it herself.

But it turned out, this soup was Clarissa’s favorite?

Alina felt bitter irony. Daniel was apparently so attentive that he knew his ex–wife’s favorite food, but hadn’t realized it was also her favorite.

Alina didn’t move. Didn’t comment about the soup or anything else. She just stood with hands clenched at her sides. Clarissa noticed. And her smile widened–pleased with the reaction.

“I actually came here to say thank you,” Clarissa said, approaching Alina with slow, predatory steps. “For these past few days. For your contribution in bringing me closer to Junior.”

She stopped in front of Alina–close enough to be intimate, far enough to maintain the appearance of civility.

“Junior is so obedient now,” Clarissa continued with barely concealed satisfaction. “He’s starting to open up to me. Even during

the photoshoot earlier he smiled. Cooperated. Like a good boy. All because of you.”

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Every word was designed to hurt. To remind Alina that the control she had–the minimal control to see Junior a few hours a day

was achieved by making Junior sacrifice himself.

Alina’s jaw tightened. But she didn’t respond. Didn’t give Clarissa the satisfaction of a visible reaction.

Clarissa pulled out her phone–a casual gesture and scrolled with deliberate slowness.

“Oh, and those photos from earlier?” she said with light falseness. “They turned out great. Want to see?”

She turned the screen toward Alina.

Family photos. Daniel, Clarissa, Junior. Smiling. Perfect. Complete.

And the headlines:

“BLACKWOOD FAMILY REUNION: Clarissa Sterling Returns to Reclaim Her Place”

“Second Wife Out? Sources Say Daniel Blackwood Considering Reconciliation with First Wife”

“Junior Blackwood Finally Has a Complete Family Again”

Alina stared at the screen with a flat expression. But her hands clenched tighter–knuckles white as nails dug into her palms. Clarissa watched. And something triumphant flashed in her eyes.

“I didn’t expect the media to be so enthusiastic,” Clarissa said, putting away her phone. “In just minutes, our photos went viral. I hope you’re not bothered by the circulating reports. They’re saying that Daniel and I are reconciling. That Junior is happier with his biological mother back. And you-”

Clarissa stopped speaking–deliberately, to apply cruel pressure.

“You’re being pushed aside.”

Clarissa’s lips smiled widely. “Actually, that’s not bad news either, right? You should leave this house. Daniel isn’t a stingy man. He can give you some compensation. And you can move on with your life. Start over. Find a life more suitable for someone like you.”

Clarissa’s words were delivered with a condescending attitude.

Alina finally looked at Clarissa–directly, unflinching.

And for the first time since this woman entered, she spoke.

“Are you finished?” Alina asked. Her voice calm. Cold. “If so, please leave my room.”

Alina emphasized the final sentence. Reminding Clarissa that regardless, she still had a place in this house.

Clarissa blinked–surprised by Alina’s reaction. She had expected tears. Anger. Pleading. But Alina just stood there with an unreadable expression and cold voice.

Emotion flashed in Clarissa’s expression. Brief. Quickly covered with a sharp smile.

“Don’t be too confident, Alina,” she said quietly, stepping closer. “I just want to make sure you understand your situation now.”

She stared at Alina with cold, calculating eyes.

“Enjoy your last days as Mrs. Blackwood,” Clarissa whispered with barely concealed poison. “Because I’m going to take everything back. Junior. Daniel. The title. The life that should have always been mine.”

She leaned closer–invading Alina’s space with deliberate aggression.

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“You were just a temporary replacement. A temporary substitute while I was gone. And now that I’m back? You’re no longer needed.”

Silence.

Filled the room. Dangerous.

Alina didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. Just stared at Clarissa with eyes that were somehow colder than the woman in front of her.

Then slowly, deliberately–a small smile appeared on Alina’s lips.

Not a warm smile. Not a sad smile.

A sharp smile. Calculated. Almost predatory.

“Finished?” Alina repeated quietly. “Or is there more you want to say?”

Clarissa fell silent–surprised by Alina’s unexpected reaction.

“If you’re done,” Alina continued in a controlled, steady voice, “get out of my room. Now.”

A command. Not a request.

Clarissa’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t your room. This is a room in Blackwood Mansion. Where I have more rights than you-”

“Get out.”

One word. Final. With an authority Clarissa hadn’t expected.

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

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