The Blind Billionaire's Scandalous Fake Wife

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 556 | Released on: 30/01/2026

nto the room. They were massiv

ley's arms. Their

physics. She couldn't win. Sh

stie wailed, rushing to his side. "

s began to drag

" Cars

quiet command that cut throu

uards

go," Ca

d started. "She bre

d let

ley. She stumbled,

sley. It was unnerving, being scr

dn't ask for sh

aren't

said bluntly. "Why would I pretend to b

room then, looking like

ded. She saw Ainsley and her face twiste

fear she had felt in the hospital was

nsley said. "This is my home.

at Ainsley's face. "This is the Ea

l Home Rights until a judge signs a decree. Unless you have an order of protection or an eviction notice signed by a magistrate, removing me is a criminal of

ened and closed. Ki

ched. It was almos

, playing her last card. "Think

ter but firm, her eyes locked on Carson. "

r than Ainsley expected. He unfolde

law," Carson said, "we will fo

sir," the

opped when he was inches away. He d

reath. She knew sh

om," Carson said. "The

" Victor

way from me

e floor and walked out, his m

sing after him. Victoria smoothed her pearls, gave A

rium, her knees shaking, surrounded b

Chapter End

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The Blind Billionaire's Scandalous Fake Wife

Yuda Xiaojie Modern

“I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a throat like sandpaper and eyelids that felt sewn shut. I expected to see the water-stained ceiling of my tiny Queens apartment, but instead, I found myself tethered to expensive machines in a room smelling of funeral lilies. The nurse didn't call me Ainsley Bentley; she called me Mrs. Eaton, and she told me the year was 2024. Before I could process the four-year gap in my memory, the Eaton matriarch stormed in, calling me a "little actress" and throwing a newspaper at my legs. The headline screamed that I was a scandalous commoner wife who had just caused a DUI crash. Within hours, a ruthless lawyer named Preston was at my bedside, demanding I sign a separation agreement that stripped me of everything. He showed me grainy photos of me with another man, accusing me of infidelity and "endangering the family reputation." My so-called best friend, Kirstie, even tried to bribe me with fifty thousand dollars to flee to Paris, whispering that my husband was an unstable monster who would destroy me. When I finally confronted my husband Carson, the billionaire "Blind Prophet of Wall Street," he looked at me with chilling indifference through his dark glasses. He was convinced I had sold his location to the paparazzi for a tabloid payout, betraying him at his most vulnerable moment. I didn't understand any of it. I didn't remember the marriage, the scandals, or the luxury. But when I looked in the mirror, I found a jagged, violent scar running down my back-a "war wound" that didn't belong to a yoga instructor. I realized I knew how to cite matrimonial law by heart and how to neutralize a physical threat with a single move. "I'm staying," I told the family of sharks as I stood my ground in their massive estate. I refused to sign the papers. Instead, I found a micro SD card hidden in a hollowed-out lipstick and realized I wasn't just a victim of a crash. I was a variable they hadn't accounted for, and I was going to find out exactly who I was before they could finish what they started.”