The Billionaire’s Forced Wife

I’m Vincent Isabella, currently approaching my 30s. Looking at the mirror, I’m a tall and beautiful girl with long hair. I had just dropped out of college five years ago when my parents died in a terrible car accident, and the same accident left my only sister, Vincent Amelia, in a coma since then.

I was the only one left. The heavy and huge amount of Amelia’s medical bills rested on my shoulders, along with the debt my parents left behind.

Since then, my life hasn’t been balanced or near stability. Literally, I was living a very poor life.

I worked double shifts at a restaurant downtown just to sort the endless pile of bills waiting for me, and also to take good care of myself.

At the restaurant where I worked double shifts day and night, I was always mocked by Lura, Earnshaw, and other co-workers, laughing and joking about me. Despite my working double shifts, I could not even afford to eat well or wear better clothes, but I was less concerned about that. I move on.

In the evening, as I returned home, the house landlord where I resided approached me and gave me a quick notice of one week to pay the house rent or leave the house.

That same night, the bank also sent a message to clear my parents’ debt as soon as possible; otherwise, the debt would start to increase every day.

Tired, I was totally confused and drained of fatigue. My thoughts weren’t balanced anymore.

“What a terrible life I’m living,” I said to myself.

I was on the verge of collapsing when my phone rang with a sudden call.

“Hello, Miss Isabella,” the voice came sharply. It was the doctor speaking.

Eagerly, I answered, “Hello, doctor.”

“Miss Isabella, we urgently need your attention here right now. Amelia’s situation is getting worse.” The doctor hung up immediately after he spoke.

Instantly, I stood up, dressed in a black gown, and rushed to the hospital hurriedly. I went straight to Ward 7 where she was receiving her treatment, but one of the nurses told me she had been transferred to Ward 11 for urgent treatment. My heart ached at the statement. I prayed that nothing happened to her.

Without hesitation, I hurried toward Ward 11. I saw Amelia lying helplessly on a hospital bed. The machine attached to her nose pumped frequently, and her face looked so fragile, like she didn’t belong in this world. Emotionally, I grabbed her soft hand, almost crying. I noticed her breathing wasn’t normal again; it was faster than usual.

At that very moment, I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout for help, but that wouldn’t have helped in this situation. Immediately, I reached the doctor, but he said it was okay.

“Miss Isabella, we really need money to continue her treatment right now, or her situation will worsen further.”

I desperately moved closer to him, almost crying.

“Okay doctor, I will be back in a short time with the money,” I said, moving out. While I was leaving, I heard the faint voice of the doctor saying, “Miss Isabella, make it very snappy.”

I had just promised to be back with money I didn’t have or expect. Desperately, I thought of my next move, and the next move was to borrow money from the bank. After a short process, the bank instantly declined my application, claiming that my parents had unpaid debts.

I was totally confused and left with no option again, but I couldn’t watch Amelia die not now, not in the future, not forever. She was the only family I had.

Yes, I could do anything to save her from dying.

Tired, I got back to my apartment, thinking of how to get the money and pay the bills. Unconsciously, I fell asleep.

Morning arrived so quickly. I barely slept for an hour all night. The morning light shone through the window. Looking at the time, I was already almost late for work. Immediately, I stood up, took my bath, and dressed casually.

The streets of New York showed no mercy. No one could offer a free ride, so I continued walking fast toward the restaurant where I worked.

The smell of roasted chicken and morning coffee filled the street air. People gathered for business, some laughing and some discussing business. That morning, the street was very crowded.

I minded my business and walked hurriedly toward my workplace. It was exactly 8:20 when I got there. I was 20 minutes late. The manager accused me of coming late. I pleaded quickly and started work immediately.

But still, I couldn’t focus on work. I was lost in thought. All my mind was on how to save Amelia. And make her live again.

A soft and sudden touch brought me back to reality.

“Isabella, why do you look so stressed and drained?” the restaurant manager asked me.

Immediately, I forced a fake smile on my face and said, “Nothing, ma’am. I’m okay.”

But it looked like she wasn’t okay with that.

She asked again, “Isabella, what is really wrong?”

I eventually explained everything to her, almost crying. She was so sad about my situation and really felt empathy for me. Immediately, on the spot, she gave me 10 dollars, which could not solve any of my problems.

The urgent money requested from the hospital was about 500 dollars to continue her treatment.

In the afternoon, the doctor sent me a text message again, short and sharp:

“Isabella, do you want Amelia dead?”

I viewed the message, almost crying. Right now, I am helpless.