He Cheated with His Stepsister, I Married a Billionaire

ed her eyes.She

ld line cutting through the blackout curtains held steady. Slowly, her vision pulled details from the shadows: t

Julian-her husband, the man who had married her after she lost her

trembling, and swung her le

eavy, confident tread, and another, slightly lighter. His younger brothe

was low, laced with pity. "She arrived

perpetually unwell, always recuperating at some private clinic. The name h

oe in the dark?" Evan pressed. "She

armth. A voice she had never heard before

n the penthouse, and you're telling me Chloe doesn't have a right to know? Everyone can see it, Julia

ath caught.

mirror," Julian said flatly. "Sh

fied. "You married her beca

gile to be my wife in public. I needed a woman who could hold that position. Chl

ng pressure around her ribs squeezed

e went blind saving your life. She gave up everything-her rese

ree years of luxury. It's more than enough compensation for a pair of eyes

ago now stabbed at her retinas-too bright, too cruel,

jawline. The same shape of th

s blind-because she could never look in a mirror and see the resemblance, nev

saying "So this is her." His father on their wedding day, telling Julian: "At least she has the right

ate," he'd said. Now she knew: he couldn't bear to have he

ad thought it was privacy. Now she understood: darkness made

sti

stolen kisses and whispered promises, through every night she had lain

ucture. Her personality, her intelligence, her career-none of it had mattered. Only the seven parts

tly. She recoiled, a purely instinctual movement, and her hand knocked against the bedsid

the hall sto

ids snapped shut. Her body, trained by years of dependence, knew what to do. S

She felt the shift in

was back to normal. The gentle, modulated

ed him cross the room. He didn't rush. His face hel

the truth. His eyes were flat, assessing, moving across her features with the clinical precision of a c

cool, proprietary stroke. "Don't

rough trembling lips. "Julian..

might have missed the flicker in his pupils, the micro-

ain, gentler this time. "Don't o

practiced, was more dam

aw him so clearly now-his handsome, cruel face, the face she had

s, she watched his eyes: half-lidded, unfocused, drifting somewhere far away. Hi

purposeful. He was leaving. No doub

r click

tears, the opulent bedroom looked garish and obscene. The golden light th

ut beneath the grief, something else beg

He would tighten his mask, and she would never know the full e

fe was still locked in her darkness-he would slip. He would make mistakes. He

a substitute. A placeholder. A co

at. She would pretend to be blind.