Claimed By The Billionaire At The Altar

KIMANI The garden erupted into a low hum of disbelief, like bees disturbed from their hive. “I will claim her.” Those four words seemed to echo endlessly, leaving me stunned, rooted to the spot. I blinked, convinced I had imagined them, but when I turned, there he was, Alaric Walker. The Alaric Walker. Even through the blur of my tears, I recognized him instantly. He was taller in person, his presence overwhelming. Power clung to him like a second skin, making the air around him feel charged. He wasn’t just a man-he was a storm, walking straight toward me with deliberate steps. “Do you trust me, Kimani?” His deep voice reached me again, softer this time, coaxing, as if it were just us two in the garden. I couldn’t answer. My mouth opened and closed uselessly. My chest tightened, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Kimani…” My father’s voice broke through, shaky and uncertain. I turned to see him staring at Alaric, eyes wide with shock. “Do you… know him?” I shook my hea

KIMANI It was already evening. I thought someone was going to bring me my meal like they did this afternoon. Instead, I got invited to the dining room. I changed into something better and followed the lady out,as we walked, I tried to make conversation. "What's your name?" I asked her. "Danielle, Mrs Walker." She replied. "Please, call me Kimani, that makes me feel like I'm some Richie rich lady." I told her. She only nodded, I hope she does. The dining room was nothing short of breathtaking. Golden chandeliers hung low, their light bouncing off polished marble floors and the glossy mahogany table that seemed to stretch endlessly. A table that could easily seat a dozen people but tonight, only two places were set. My sandals clicked softly against the floor as I made my way to the chair on the right side of the one at the head. The seat at the head was already occupied. Alaric sat there, poised, his posture relaxed but commanding. His phone was in his hand, his sharp gaze fixe

KIMANI The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was silence. Not the kind of silence that feels empty or lonely, but the kind that feels intentional—like someone was waiting. And then I saw her. The maid from yesterday—Danielle—stood a few steps away from the bed, her posture perfectly composed, her hands folded in front of her. She wasn’t fidgeting. She wasn’t impatient. She was simply… waiting. For me. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said softly as soon as I stirred. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. People usually didn’t wait for me. They moved on with their lives, their priorities, their schedules. I did need anyone to wait on me like I am some 16th Century lady,or princess who does not even lift a hand for most of her life. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn’t explain. I sat up slowly, pulling the sheets around me, my throat a little tight. “You didn’t have to stand there all this time.” “It’s my duty, ma’am,” Danielle replied, her expression calm. I w

KIMANI Alaric’s hand didn’t leave my waist until we slid into the backseat of his sleek black car. And I didn't say anything about it. “Where are we going?” I asked as the engine purred to life. “You’ll see,” he replied, his tone smooth, final—like a man who didn’t bother explaining himself twice. Well, he definitely doesn't explain himself, or repeat himself. I sat back in the car, waiting to see where he actually plans to have lunch, probably the usual fancy restaurant you can find any CEO. The car glided through the city streets, tinted windows sealing us in a world apart. I peered outside, watching buildings blur by. It couldn’t have been more than a ten-minute ride—definitely walkable—but then again, I supposed Alaric Walker didn’t walk anywhere. Not unless he wanted the paparazzi swarming like vultures over a carcass. The thought made me shiver. His world was a goldfish bowl—glass walls, always on display. And somehow, by marrying him, I’d been dropped straight

KIMANI One week since I followed Alaric to his office, and like I told him. I didn't follow him again, that man won't know fun even if it hits him in the face. Today, I am in the mood to bake, so I'm going to do exactly that. But not this morning, maybe in the afternoon. So I went down, had my breakfast and continued my tour of the whole house. Yes, continued. Can you believe a simple tour will take me days to complete. I'm glad that the route from my room to the kitchen is straight to the point, or I would be declared missing in the house. After breakfast, I set off again on my little adventure, barefoot and curious, padding through the endless corridors like some explorer charting unclaimed territory. I swear, every corner I turned revealed another hallway, another grand staircase, another set of doors that probably led to some secret wing. “This isn’t a house,” I muttered under my breath, running my hand along the cold marble wall. “It’s a small kingdom.” If I didn’t know