The Billionaire’s Wrong Bride

“You’re going to apologize publicly.”Evelyn slowly lifted her gaze from the untouched cup of tea in front of her, her fingers resting lightly against the porcelain as though she had forgotten it was even there.Her father stood near the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid and his expression carved from pure disappointment. Across the room, her mother sat beside Amelia’s wheelchair, gently rubbing her shoulder with careful, almost reverent tenderness, as if Amelia might shatter at the slightest pressure.As always, Evelyn stood alone.The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the mansion, casting a golden glow across the polished floors, yet the warmth never reached her. Instead, the room felt cold and oppressive, like a courtroom where the verdict had already been decided long before the accused was allowed to speak.“I already told you,” Evelyn said quietly, her voice steady despite the weight pressing against her chest. “I didn’t caus

“You’re smiling far too much for someone who is supposedly traumatized.”Amelia’s smile disappeared at once.She turned sharply toward the bedroom doorway, where Evelyn stood holding a glass of water, her posture steady but her gaze unyielding.For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them stretched taut, as if it had taken on a life of its own, filling the space with a quiet, watchful hostility.Amelia recovered first.Her expression softened into practiced innocence, her features rearranging themselves with effortless precision. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” she said lightly.Evelyn stepped further into the room, her voice calm but edged with quiet accusation. “And you shouldn’t fake panic attacks.”The air seemed to freeze around them.Outside the tall windows, thunder rolled across the darkened sky, and the steady rain cast the city in a dull, oppressive gray. Amelia sat poised in her wheelchair near the vanity, wrapped in a silk robe that spoke of weal