The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 87

The Careful Game

“Request denied. Will discuss later.”

Alina stared at the screen of Mrs. Helen’s phone.

Four words. 1

Not even the courtesy of an explanation. Not a mention of Junior’s condition or when “later” might be. Just denial delivered with the emotional weight of a declined credit card transaction.

She set the phone down with deliberate care and handed it back to Mrs. Helen, who still stood beside her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Mrs. Helen took her phone back, slipping it into her apron pocket. “Does Nyonya need to contact anyone else?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”

Her own phone was still in Daniel’s possession. Confiscated since the night at the hospital. Another way they’d cut off her access to the outside world.

But they didn’t know about Mrs. Helen’s phone. Not yet.

Alina took a breath.

Then she stood and walked to her closet.

In the back, behind the winter coats she never wore because the mansion was climate controlled to perfection year -round, there was a small leather bag. The kind meant for weekend trips. Compact. Unobtrusive.

She pulled it out and began packing with systematic precision.

Two changes of clothes. Comfortable. Easy to move in. Underwear. Socks. A jacket that didn’t look expensive but was warm. Toiletries in travel sizes. The small amount of cash she had saved from household allowances over the years, folded flat in a zippered compartment.

Her passport, expired but still valid identification.

The notebook.

A phone charger–though she had no phone now, she would need it later.

She zipped the bag closed and placed it back in the closet, this time in easy reach.

Not leaving yet. Not today.

But ready.

Always ready now.

At ten AM she heard footsteps outside her door.

Not the knock of Mrs. Helen or the hesitant approach of the younger staff.

Heavy. Deliberate.

1/5

+25 Bonus

Mr. Harris.

She opened the door before he could knock.

He stood in the corridor with his hands clasped in front of him, expression professionally neutral but with something underneath. Discomfort maybe. Or the faint strain of a man who had been told to do something he didn’t particularly want to do.

“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said. “I need to inform you that your movements will be more closely monitored going forward.”

“More closely than being followed to the hospital last night?”

His jaw tightened slightly. “Mr. Blackwood has requested enhanced security protocols. For your protection.”

“My protection,” Alina repeated flatly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“It means I’ll be positioned outside your door during evening hours. One of my team will be on the grounds during the day. You’ll need to notify us if you intend to leave your room for any reason other than supervised visits with Mr. Junior when he returns home.”

When he returns home.

Not if.

When.

Alina held onto that word.

“And if I need to leave the mansion?” she asked.

“That will require Mr. Blackwood’s approval in advance. Twenty–four hours notice minimum.”

“I see.”

She started to close the door.

“Mrs. Blackwood.” Mr. Harris’s voice stopped her. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the boy.”

She looked at him. At the careful blankness that was starting to crack at the edges.

“Are you sorry enough to let me see him?”

He said nothing.

Which was answer enough.

She closed the door.

***

At eleven thirty Mrs. Helen knocked with lunch.

Cold soup. Salad. Water, not tea.

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She set the tray down and immediately went to the window, adjusting the curtains with more attention than necessary.

“They’re watching the house phones,” she murmured without looking at Alina. “I heard Mr. Harris tell the new security that all calls in and out need to be logged.”

Alina nodded, eating her soup calmly, as if they were discussing nothing more significant than the weather.

“The small phone?” she asked quietly.

“Still safe. Hidden in the market basket in my car. They haven’t thought to check the staff vehicles yet.”

Yet.

“Can you still leave for shopping?”

“Thursday routine. I told them I need to go this afternoon. Mr. Harris approved it.” Mrs. Helen straightened the curtains one final time. “Two o’clock.”

Three and a half hours.

“Good,” Alina said. Took another spoonful of soup. “When you get to Emma’s, tell her everything we discussed. And ask her to call Rachel immediately. Tell Rachel I need the appointment arranged within forty–eight hours if possible.”

“The fake medical appointment?”

“Not fake. Real appointment, real doctor. Just for documentation purposes.” Alina set her spoon down carefully. Rachel explained it to me before. If I can get medical records showing I was examined, that my condition was documented, it creates a timeline that can’t be argued with later.”

Mrs. Helen nodded slowly, understanding. “You’re building a case.”

“I’m building proof.” Alina met her eyes. “Of what was done to me. Of why Junior was alone. Of everything.”

“It’s dangerous, Nyonya.”

“It’s necessary.”

Mrs. Helen picked up the tray and left.

Alina sat very still for a long moment.

No phone to check. No way to contact anyone without Mrs. Helen. No access to the outside world except the window of her room and the door that was now being guarded.

But she had something more important than a phone.

She had a plan.

She had evidence that was on its way out of this house.

She had people who cared about her and about Junior.

She stood and went to the desk, opening her notebook.

Time, date, request denied via Mrs. Helen’s phone, no explanation given.

Everything documented.

3/5

Everything saved.

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At one forty–five PM, Alina heard a car start outside.

She went to the window.

Mrs. Helen’s practical sedan pulling out of the staff parking area. The guard at the gate waved her through without checking the vehicle.

Routine. Expected. Thursday shopping.

In the back seat, wrapped in cloth and hidden in a market basket, a teacup and a bloodstained book were leaving the mansion.

Evidence going somewhere it could be protected. Tested. Used.

Alina watched until the car disappeared beyond the gates.

Then she sat back down at her desk and continued her documentation.

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