The Billionaire's Unwanted Wife

Elizabeth hazel Kingston (AUTHOR POV) The cold marble floor felt like ice against Hazel’s bare knees. She was shivering, but not because of the air conditioning that was turned up to maximum power inside the massive, cold mansion. She was shivering because of fear. In front of her stood a man who looked like he was carved by gods, yet his eyes were colder than the deepest part of the ocean. Xander Kingston. The name alone commanded respect and fear in the entire country. He was the youngest billionaire, the CEO of Kingston Group of Companies, and the most eligible bachelor—until today. Today, he was forced to marry her. Hazel looked down at her hands. They were trembling. She was wearing a simple white dress, nothing compared to the luxury surrounding her. She didn’t look like a bride. She looked like a prisoner standing before her judge. “Look at me, Hazel,” Xander’s voice was low, deep, and laced with venom. It sent chills down her spine. Slowly, Hazel lifted her head. Her bi

HAZEL (AUTHOR POV) The night was long and freezing. Hazel sat huddled in the dark storage room, her body trembling violently. The rain was pouring heavily outside, and the cold wind seeped through the cracks of the walls, biting her skin like needles. She had no blanket. She had no food. Her stomach was empty, growling in pain, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything for almost two days. But she didn’t make a sound. She bit her lip until it bleed, holding back her sobs. She knew if she made any noise, Xander would only get angrier. He might even throw her out into the real rain. Be strong, Hazel, she whispered to herself in the dark. For Papa. Just endure. Just a little more. Morning came, but the pain didn’t go away. Hazel heard the maids starting to move around the house. She knew she had to go out. If she didn’t show up, they would punish her again. Slowly, she stood up. Her head spun, and she almost fell. Her legs were like jelly, weak and numb. She fixed her messy hai

HAZEL (AUTHOR POV) Days turned into weeks, and Hazel’s life remained the same—a never-ending cycle of labor, hunger, and insults. The mansion was beautiful, filled with luxury and expensive things, but for her, it was nothing but a prison. She lived in the corners, invisible unless they needed someone to blame or someone to command. Selene had gone back to school, but her presence was still felt everywhere. Xander kept photos of them together in the living room, and he would often bring Selene home on weekends, making Hazel serve them as if she were their personal maid. Hazel had grown thinner. Her clothes hung loosely on her frail frame. Her skin was pale, and dark circles were permanently etched under her eyes. She worked from dawn until midnight, cleaning, cooking, washing, and ironing. She did the work of three people, yet she was fed like a dog—if she was fed at all. Often, she would only eat the leftover rice washed down with water, or sometimes, she would sneak a piece of b

HAZEL (AUTHOR POV) Days turned into weeks, and the cruelty only seemed to deepen, wrapping around Hazel like a heavy chain she could not break. She had become nothing more than a shadow in her own home, existing only to serve, to clean, and to absorb the anger of the people around her. One afternoon, Mrs. Kingston decided to rearrange the heavy furniture in the living room. Since there were no maids around-or perhaps because they simply wanted to see her suffer-the task fell entirely on Hazel's frail shoulders. "Move this cabinet to the other side!" Mrs. Kingston commanded, pointing at the massive wooden shelf filled with heavy vases and decorations. "And make sure not to scratch the floor! If you damage anything, you will pay for it!" Hazel looked at the cabinet. It was huge, much heavier than anything she had ever lifted before. She was so thin, her body starved and weak from lack of proper food. "Mother... it's too heavy," Hazel whispered, her voice trembling. "I cannot move it

Hazel (author POV) The pain was a constant companion now, a dull ache that lived in every bone and muscle of her body. Hazel woke up before dawn, as she always did, her body stiff and sore from the hard floor she slept on. She looked at her arms in the dim light—covered in old bruises that were turning yellow, and new ones that were still dark and painful. She stood up slowly, feeling the world spin a little. She was so hungry, her stomach felt like it was eating itself. But she knew there would be no breakfast for her unless she finished all her work first and if the family allowed it. That morning, Mrs. Kingston decided that the entire house needed to be scrubbed from top to bottom. “Hazel!” the old woman shouted, throwing a bucket and a rough brush at her feet. “I want every tile in this house cleaned! Scrub them until they shine! Do not use the mop! Use your hands and knees! If I see even a speck of dust, you will do it all over again!” “Yes, Mother,” Hazel whispered. She fi