The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 7

The Meeting

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On the fourth morning in her luxurious prison, Alina woke to the sound of the door being opened from outside.

Mrs. Helen entered with a breakfast tray–toast, scrambled eggs, orange juice, and chamomile tea. The old woman placed the tray on the table with hands that weren’t entirely steady, avoiding eye contact.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” Mrs. Helen greeted softly. “Breakfast for you.”

Alina sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the food without appetite. “Where’s Junior?”

“Already had breakfast this morning. With Mrs. Margaret and Mrs. Clarissa.” Mrs. Helen still wasn’t looking at Alina. “Mr. Daniel left for the office at seven.”

Of course. Daniel ran away again—as usual.

“Didn’t Junior ask about me?” Alina couldn’t hold back that question.

Mrs. Helen finally looked at her, eyes teary. “Young master keeps asking about you, Ma’am. He asks why he can’t play with you. Why you don’t come down for breakfast. Why Mr. Harris is always in front of your room door.”

Something clenched in Alina’s chest. “What did you tell him?”

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“Mrs. Margaret said you were sick. Need rest. Can’t be disturbed.” Mrs. Helen’s voice trembled. “But young master doesn’t believe it. He said, ‘If she’s sick, he should take care of her. Young master can bring soup and teddy bear so she won’t be alone.“”

Tears threatened to fall. Alina swallowed hard, trying to control her emotions.

“But Mrs. Margaret wouldn’t allow it,” Mrs. Helen continued in an almost whispered voice. “She persuaded young master to give you ‘space.‘ So young master gave up and is now in the playroom with Mrs. Clarissa. But… Ma’am, that child is not happy. He just sits by the window, staring toward this wing.”

Alina closed her eyes, feeling her heart break. Junior sitting there, waiting–just like when he was still a baby, crying for the mother who left him.

But now the mother he was looking for was Alina. And Alina was trapped, unable to reach him.

“Mrs. Helen,” Alina opened her eyes, looking at the old woman desperately. “Please give Junior a message. Tell him I love him. Tell him I’ll come down as soon as I’m allowed. Tell him-

”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Mrs. Helen cut in with a voice full of guilt. “Mr. Daniel already gave instructions. We’re not allowed to deliver messages from Ma’am to Junior. And vice versa. Mr. said it’s ‘for Junior’s good.“”

“For Junior’s good?” Alina almost laughed a harsh sound without humor. “Separating a child from the only person he trusts is for his good?”

Mrs. Helen couldn’t answer. Just stared at the floor with slumped shoulders—defeated.

Alina took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. This wasn’t Mrs. Helen’s fault. This woman was just following orders, like everyone else in this mansion.

“I understand,” Alina finally said in a more controlled voice. “Thank you, Mrs. Helen. For the breakfast,”

Mrs. Helen nodded, turning to leave.

“Mrs. Helen,” Alina called before the woman reached the door. “Can I ask something?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Is there a meeting today? In Mr. Daniel’s study?”

Mrs. Helen paused, looking at Alina with a wary expression. “Why are you asking, Ma’am?”

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“Just curious,” Alina lied. Actually she had heard–this morning, before Daniel left, there was the sound of conversation in the corridor. Daniel talking to someone on the phone. Alina pressed her ear to the door, trying to listen.

“…Mom will come at ten with Mr. Harrison… need to finalize documents before… no, Alina doesn’t need to know…”

Mr. Harrison. Alina knew that name- not Mr. Harris the security chief, but Mr. Harrison the Blackwood family lawyer. Who handled all legal matters, including Alina’s marriage contract five years ago.

“There’s a meeting this morning,” Mrs. Helen finally answered reluctantly. “Mrs. Margaret, Mr. Daniel, and Mr. Harrison. But Ma’am doesn’t need to worry about it. It’s family business.”

Family business that didn’t include Alina. Even though Alina was officially Mrs. Blackwood.

Mrs. Helen left, closing the door but not locking it–as Daniel instructed last night. But Alina knew Mr. Harris was outside, watching.

Alina walked to the door, opening it slightly.

Mr. Harris stood in the corridor–tall, built like a tank, with rigid military posture. He looked at Alina with a professional and blank expression.

“Mrs. Blackwood,” he greeted with a small nod. “Can I help you with something?”

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“I want to go down to the playroom,” Alina said. “See Junior.”

“Sorry, Ma’am. Mr. Blackwood already gave instructions–interaction with young master must be scheduled and supervised. There’s no schedule right now.”

“He’s my son-”

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“Legally, Ma’am, he’s the son of Mr. Blackwood and Ms. Sterling.” Mr. Harris cut in with a flat voice, stating facts without emotion. “You’re the stepmother. And according to Mr. Blackwood’s instructions, interaction schedule will be arranged for the best interest of the child.”

Each word was like a slap.

Alina wasn’t Junior’s mother. Legally, she had no rights. Five years of raising that boy meant nothing in the eyes of the law, and anyone.

“I understand,” Alina whispered, backing into her room.

But before she closed the door, Mr. Harris added in a slightly softer voice–almost sympathetic. “Mrs. Blackwood, my advice- comply with Mr. Blackwood’s rules. It will be easier for everyone. Especially for you and young master.”

Alina looked at him. “You think this is easy for Junior? Suddenly not being able to see his mother?”

“I’m just following orders, Ma’am.” Mr. Harris returned to his professional posture. “But for what it’s worth, I have my own child. And if I were Junior, I’d want my mother–the person who raised me–there.”

There was something in the man’s eyes–a brief flash of humanity.

Then it disappeared. Replaced with a professional mask again.

Alina closed the door, leaning against it, feeling crushing hopelessness.

Even security sympathized with her situation. But couldn’t do anything

Because Daniel’s orders were absolute.

At exactly ten o’clock, Alina heard sounds in the corridor.

She stood near her bedroom door which wasn’t locked but she didn’t dare go out because of Mr. Harris. Alina listened with her

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ear pressed to the wood.

“Hello, Mom.” Daniel’s voice, formal and businesslike.

“Daniel, Mr. Harrison.” Margaret’s voice, cold and controlled as usual.

“Let’s talk in the study,” Daniel said.

Multiple footsteps–Margaret’s high heels clicking on marble, Daniel’s dress shoes, and a third pair of formal shoes that must be Mr. Harrison’s.

They walked past Alina’s room toward the study at the end of the corridor.

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