His Unwanted Wife, Now Unreachable Queen

Bailey, an invisible shadow to the powerful Douglas family, stood in the freezing rain, watching City Hall. For five long years, she'd been used to being forgotten. But today, her entire world shattered as her fiancé, Jameson, walked out with another woman, Haleigh, holding their fresh marriage certificates.

Jameson scooped Haleigh into his arms, treating her like fragile glass, convinced she'd saved him from a burning car five years ago. He never knew it was Bailey who pulled him from the flames, nor that Haleigh's "sickness" had left Bailey with an ugly scar from donating bone marrow, making her a mere family blood bank.

Watching them kiss, pure nausea rose from years of blame. Bailey later found a joyous celebration for Haleigh at the manor. Her wet arrival drew only cold annoyance; Jameson gave pitying instructions before all four men rushed to Haleigh's side when she faked a cough.

Haleigh, with a sweet smile, presented Bailey a "gift"-a velvet box. Forced to open it, a venomous Brown Recluse spider dropped onto Bailey's hand, sinking its fangs deep. As white-hot agony exploded and her vision blurred, Haleigh theatrically screamed, deliberately scraping her forehead.

The men, blind with panic for Haleigh's minor scratch, roared at Bailey, shoved her to the floor, and rushed Haleigh to the car. Left to die alone, struggling for breath as her body shut down, Bailey knew this was the end of playing their disgusting game. She had already activated her hidden trust fund, planning to buy a remote island and disappear forever.

Chapter 1

Bailey Douglas POV:

I stood on the corner across from City Hall. There was no awning. No shelter. The freezing autumn rain slammed into my thin trench coat, soaking straight through to my skin, but I didn't move. I kept my eyes locked on the revolving glass doors across the street.

I was used to being forgotten. For five years, the Douglas family had left me standing in the cold, waiting outside while they lived their lives.

The heavy glass doors pushed open. Jameson stepped out first. He wore a custom black suit that seemed to absorb the gray light of the storm. In his hand, he held two crisp, red marriage certificates.

My breath stopped. My lungs seized in my chest. My fingernails dug into my palms so hard the skin broke, but I couldn't feel the pain. I just felt a hollow, echoing emptiness.

Haleigh followed him out. She wore a pure white lace dress that fluttered in the wind. She swayed, letting out a soft gasp as she pretended to lose her balance. Her white high heel stepped directly into a puddle.

Jameson dropped his expensive umbrella instantly. He didn't even look at it. He scooped Haleigh up into his arms, lifting her out of the water. His face was tight with panic and fierce, desperate protection. He held her like she was his entire world. He held her like she was the woman who had dragged him out of a burning car five years ago.

He didn't know it was me. He thought it was her.

I watched him hold her against his chest. My hand drifted to my right side, pressing against my wet clothes. Beneath the fabric was an ugly, jagged scar. The place where they had cut into me to harvest bone marrow for Haleigh when she was "sick." I was her blood bank. I was her shadow.

A taxi sped past me on the road. A wave of dirty street water splashed half a meter high, crashing directly into my calves and ruining my shoes.

I shivered violently. The icy water bit into my bones. But I didn't blink. I couldn't look away from the couple across the street.

Haleigh laughed in his arms. She looked up, her face glowing, and kissed his jaw.

Jameson didn't pull away. He didn't hesitate. He lowered his head and deepened the kiss. In the gray, miserable rain, they looked like a perfect romance.

My stomach violently twisted. Bile rose in the back of my throat. Five years of waiting, of bleeding, of taking the blame, turned into pure, physical nausea.

I took a step back. My shoulder blade hit the metal pole of a street sign with a dull, heavy thud.

Across the street, Jameson's head snapped up. He frowned, his eyes scanning the street through the rain.

I moved on pure instinct. I threw myself behind a massive advertising billboard. My back hit the freezing metal panel. I held my breath, pressing my hand over my mouth. I was used to hiding. In the Douglas house, I was the dirty secret kept in the dark.

I peeked around the edge of the metal frame. Jameson's gaze swept over the empty corner where I had just been standing. He only saw a broken, abandoned umbrella sitting in a puddle.

Haleigh touched his face, whispering something to him. Jameson pulled his gaze away from the street. He looked back at her, his eyes softening instantly. He carried her toward the black Maybach waiting at the curb.

The driver opened the door. Jameson placed her inside the backseat with extreme care, like she was made of fragile glass.

The heavy car door slammed shut. I stepped out from behind the billboard. I watched the red taillights bleed into the rain as the car drove away.

A gust of freezing wind hit my wet face. A laugh tore out of my throat. It sounded broken. It sounded completely, terrifyingly clear.

I reached into my wet pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen was cracked. The rain made the touch sensor glitch under my fingers.

I grabbed the hem of my shirt, wiping the glass dry with a rough motion. My thumb opened the contacts. I stared at Jameson's name, pinned at the very top of my list.

I swiped left. I hit the red delete button. I didn't hesitate. I didn't cry.

Then, I typed a string of complex code into the search bar. The system bypassed my regular contacts and pulled up a hidden, encrypted name: Abernathy.

I pressed call. It rang exactly once.

An old, strict voice answered. "Code."

I gave him the verification string. I heard his breath catch in surprise on the other end of the line.

I stared at the muddy water pooling around my feet. "Activate my mother's secret trust fund," I said. My voice was hoarse, but it didn't shake.

"Ms. Douglas," Abernathy warned, his tone grave. "Liquidating the assets right now will incur a thirty percent penalty in losses."

"I don't care," I ordered. "Do it. And I want to buy a private island in the Pacific. The most remote one you can find."

I hung up the phone. I shoved it back into my pocket. I turned my back on the street where the Maybach had disappeared, and started walking into the rain.

"Five years. I finally don't have to play this disgusting part anymore."

Bailey Douglas POV:

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of Abernathy's law firm in Manhattan. My wet heels left a trail of dark, muddy water on the pristine beige carpet.

The receptionist at the front desk looked up. She saw my soaked trench coat, my ruined shoes, and my pale face. She immediately stood up, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and moved to block my path.

"Excuse me, you can't just-"

The door to the inner office opened. Abernathy stepped out. The moment he saw me, he waved the receptionist away. A flash of deep respect crossed his aged face.

I followed him into his private conference room. The air conditioning was running on high. The cold air hit my wet clothes, and a violent shiver wrecked my body. My immune system was garbage. Donating bone marrow and countless pints of blood to Haleigh over the years had left me permanently weak.

Abernathy pulled a dry cashmere blanket from a cabinet and handed it to me. He poured a cup of steaming black coffee and set it on the mahogany table.

I didn't touch the coffee. I pulled out a chair and sat down. "Show me the asset list."

Abernathy sighed. He unlocked a heavy floor safe and pulled out a thick stack of documents. He pushed them across the table. "Ms. Douglas, dumping these stocks today is financial suicide. You are losing millions."

I picked up the heavy steel pen from his desk. I didn't even look at the final dollar amount. I flipped to the last page and signed my name on the dotted line.

I pressed down so hard the metal nib tore through the thick paper, leaving a dark, jagged scar of ink. It was done.

Abernathy silently put the papers away. He opened his laptop and turned the screen toward me. It showed an encrypted registry of private islands in the Caribbean.

My eyes scanned past the luxury resorts and the developed properties. I pointed to a tiny, jagged green dot in the middle of nowhere. It had no docks. No buildings.

"That one," I said.

Abernathy stared at me in shock. "Ms. Douglas, that island has no infrastructure. No running water, no electricity grid. It is completely isolated from the world."

A cold smile touched my lips. "That is exactly what I want. A place where no one can ever find me."

Abernathy nodded slowly. "Gathering the liquid funds and processing the deed transfer will take about two weeks."

I stood up. I folded the cashmere blanket and placed it neatly on the back of the chair. "Until then, the Douglas family knows nothing. Absolute secrecy."

By the time I left the law firm and took a cab back to the Douglas Manor in Long Island, the sky was pitch black.

I stood in front of the massive brass gates. I looked up at the second floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows were blazing with light. I could hear the loud, joyful laughter spilling out into the cold night.

That laughter. That sound of a happy family that I was never allowed to be part of. It had haunted my entire childhood.

I took a deep breath. I placed my freezing hands on the brass handles and pushed the heavy doors open.

The moment the doors parted, a wave of heat, the smell of white roses, and the loud pop of a champagne bottle hit my face.

The grand foyer was transformed. White flowers covered every surface. The long dining table was buried under mountains of expensive gift boxes.

Jameson stood in the center of the room. He held a crystal champagne flute. His eyes were soft and full of absolute devotion as he looked at Haleigh, who was surrounded by her three brothers.

Derrick, the eldest, was carefully fastening a massive diamond necklace around Haleigh's neck.

Blake, the second brother, held a digital camera, filming Haleigh's fake tears of joy.

Kane, the youngest brother, held a plate with a slice of cake, carefully feeding it to Haleigh like she was a helpless child.

The cold wind from the open door swept into the room. It hit the crystal wind chimes hanging in the hall. They crashed together with a sharp, piercing ring.

Every single person in the room froze.

Five pairs of eyes looked past the sea of white roses and landed on me. I stood there, dripping muddy water onto their perfect floor.

The tender look on Jameson's face vanished. His brows crashed together. A brief flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was instantly swallowed by cold annoyance.

Haleigh's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Then, she shrank back against Jameson's chest, her eyes widening like a terrified deer.

Kane slammed the cake plate down onto the table. The porcelain shattered with a loud crack.

He marched toward me, his face twisted in rage. He stopped a foot away, looking down at my soaked, shivering body with pure disgust.

"Do you look like this because you're back for a funeral?"

Bailey Douglas POV:

I didn't lower my head. I didn't apologize. For the first time in five years, the fear that usually choked me when Kane yelled was completely gone.

I calmly unbuttoned my soaked trench coat. I slipped it off my shoulders and let it drop straight onto the floor.

The heavy, wet fabric hit the priceless white Persian rug with a wet slap. Dark, filthy street mud immediately bled into the pristine white fibers.

Derrick stepped forward, his face hardening into the strict, authoritative mask he always wore. "Pick that up. Clean the rug. Now."

I looked up. My eyes swept over Derrick with total emptiness. "Let the maids clean it," I said, my voice flat.

I remembered being ten years old, kneeling on this exact floor, scrubbing until my fingers bled because Haleigh had "accidentally" knocked over a glass of milk and blamed me. I was done scrubbing.

I stepped around the coat and started walking toward the stairs.

Blake moved fast. He threw his arm out, blocking the bottom step. He sneered at me. "What's your problem? You get dumped out on the street and decide to come back here and throw a tantrum?"

Jameson set his champagne glass down. He walked over to Blake and gently pushed his arm down. He looked at me, his eyes running over my shivering frame. He tried to soften his voice, taking on that arrogant, pitying tone he used when dealing with a stray dog.

"Bailey, go upstairs and take a hot shower. You're making a mess."

I looked at his face. The face of the man who had promised to marry me, who had just spent the afternoon kissing another woman in the rain.

My stomach heaved. A violent wave of disgust hit me. I took a quick half-step backward, putting physical distance between us like he carried a disease.

Jameson froze. His hand, which had been reaching out to pat my shoulder, stopped dead in the air. He looked genuinely shocked by my revulsion.

From the center of the room, Haleigh saw his reaction. She immediately grabbed her chest and let out a weak, rattling cough.

Instantly, the tension around me vanished. All four men whipped their heads toward Haleigh. They abandoned me at the stairs and rushed back to the sofa.

Haleigh leaned weakly against Jameson's side. Her eyes were red. Her voice trembled perfectly. "Don't be mad at Bailey. She didn't mean to ruin my party. She's just having a bad day."

Kane's face turned red with anger. He pointed a finger at me from across the room. "You ungrateful bitch. She's defending you, and you just stand there looking like a psycho!"

I watched the terrible, pathetic play unfold. A cold smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth. I turned around and put my foot on the first stair.

"Wait," Haleigh called out.

I heard her bare feet pattering against the carpet. She ran up behind me, blocking the stairs. She was holding a small, black velvet box tied with a silver ribbon.

She held it out to me with both hands. Her smile was sweet and innocent. "I got you a gift, Bailey. Since you had to go on that 'business trip' today."

I stared at the box. I didn't reach for it. When we were kids, Haleigh gave me a "gift"-a hand-knit sweater with sewing needles hidden in the sleeves. I knew what her gifts meant.

"Take it, Bailey," Jameson commanded from the living room. His voice was hard. "Don't be ungrateful."

"She's sick, and she still thought of you," Derrick added, his tone dripping with disappointment. "Have a heart."

I felt the crushing weight of their stares. Four men, ready to tear me apart if I made their precious princess sad.

I slowly raised my pale hand. I took the heavy velvet box from her fingers.

The second the box touched my palm, I saw it. Haleigh's mouth twitched upward into a vicious, triumphant smirk.

My fingers paused on the velvet. I felt it. A tiny, frantic vibration coming from inside the dark box.

Haleigh immediately took a large step backward, putting distance between us. "Open it," she urged, her voice breathless.

"It's an antique brooch she bought at a Paris auction," Kane snapped. "Open it and say thank you."

My thumb rested on the metal clasp. The air in the grand foyer felt suffocating. I looked past Haleigh. I looked straight into Jameson's eyes. There was nothing in his gaze but blind indulgence for the woman beside him.

I closed my eyes. I pressed my thumb down.

*Click.*

The lid sprang open. There was no shine of vintage gold. There was only a blur of dark, hairy brown legs lunging out of the shadows.

A massive Brown Recluse spider dropped directly onto the bare skin of my hand.

Haleigh let out a deafening, theatrical scream. She threw her hands over her face and threw her body backward toward the floor.

"Oh my god! What is that!"