Reborn To Marry The Disabled Billionaire

The suffocating scent of lilies flooded Bonnie Galvan's senses, thick and cloying, like funeral flowers. Her eyes shot open.

A gasp tore from her throat, raw and desperate, as she sucked in air. Her lungs burned.

The world swam into focus. She was in a room of blinding white. White walls, white furniture, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror that reflected a ghost. A ghost in a wedding dress. Her wedding dress. The seven-figure gown she'd worn seven years ago.

A tremor started in her hands, spreading through her entire body. The memory hit her not as a thought, but as a physical sensation-the brutal, biting cold of a blizzard, the rough texture of the snow against her cheek, the final, agonizing stillness as her heart gave out.

She scrambled backward, away from the mirror, away from the ghost. Her heel caught on the leg of a vanity table.

A crystal vase wobbled, then crashed to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the silent room, water and white petals spilling across the pristine carpet.

The noise was a gunshot. The heavy oak door flew open.

"Bonnie? What happened?"

Itzel Sparks stood in the doorway, a glass of water in her hand, her face a perfect mask of concern. Behind her, tall and handsome in a tailored suit, was Erwin Woods. The man who had taken everything from her.

The sight of their faces sent a wave of nausea through her. Her fingernails dug into her palms, the sharp pain a welcome anchor in the dizzying reality. She wanted to scream. She wanted to claw their lying eyes out.

But she didn't.

"Oh, honey, you're shaking," Itzel said, rushing to her side. Her grip on Bonnie's arm was surprisingly strong, almost painful. "Are you having second thoughts? It's not too late, you know."

Erwin was there a second later, his handsome face etched with worry. He gently took Bonnie's free hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "Bonnie, listen to me. We can leave. Right now. I won't let you marry a cripple. I won't let you throw your life away."

His touch felt like ice. His words were poison. The same words he'd used last time. Her stomach churned. This was the hand that had pushed her down the icy slope during the blizzard, leaving her with a broken ankle, unable to move as the snow slowly buried her alive.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing her muscles to obey. She let her shoulders slump, her eyes widen with manufactured panic.

Her voice trembled when she spoke, a flawless imitation of the girl she used to be. "You... you really mean it? Is the car ready? The tickets?"

A flicker of triumph flashed in Itzel's eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. "Of course, silly. Everything's ready. We just need to get you out of this dress."

Itzel's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You've heard the rumors about Arlington. He's a monster. If you go through with this, you'll be trapped with him forever. Your life will be over. Running with Erwin is your only chance at freedom."

Bonnie bit her lip, a gesture she knew they'd interpret as fear. Her gaze darted to the broken glass on the floor, then back to their expectant faces. Her mind was a whirlwind of calculations. If she exposed them now, she had nothing. No power, no leverage. They would just find another way to destroy her.

No. She had to play their game. Let them think they were in control.

She lifted her head, her eyes welling with tears she didn't feel, and looked at Erwin. She made him her entire world, her only savior.

"I'm scared," she whispered, the words tasting like ash. "I'm scared of him. Of Arlington. I don't want to be tied to a man in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. I don't want to drag my family down with me."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Erwin's face. He pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her in a possessive embrace. "I'll protect you, Bonnie. I swear it."

Over his shoulder, hidden from his view, Bonnie's expression turned to ice. A cold, profound disgust washed over her before she quickly masked it, burying her face in his suit jacket.

"We have to hurry," Itzel urged, tapping her foot impatiently. "The driver is waiting at the back entrance. Get changed. Now."

Bonnie pulled away from Erwin, wiping her fake tears. "Okay. Just... give me a few minutes. To calm down. And to change."

Itzel and Erwin exchanged a look of pure victory. The little princess was still so easy to manipulate.

"Of course," Erwin said, his voice smooth as silk.

They left, closing the door softly behind them.

The second the latch clicked, the fear and fragility vanished from Bonnie's face. Her posture straightened. Her eyes, moments ago wide with terror, were now hard and sharp as shards of glass.

She walked to the full-length mirror, staring at the reflection of a woman she barely recognized. Younger, healthier, and very much alive. A vow formed in her heart, solid and unbreakable. Never again.

She wasn't going to run.

She was going to walk down that aisle, become Mrs. Arlington Townsend, and use the full, terrifying power of that name to grind these two into dust.

She picked up her bridal bouquet from the table. The stems of the white roses dug into her palm as she squeezed, her knuckles turning white.

She glanced out the window at the church's tall, stone bell tower.

The show is just beginning, she thought, a cold smile touching her lips. But this time, I'm writing the script.

Bonnie locked the door to the bridal suite, the heavy bolt sliding home with a satisfying thud. It wouldn't hold Itzel and Erwin for long, but she only needed a few minutes.

She reached under the voluminous skirt of her wedding dress, her fingers finding the clasps for the heavy crinoline cage. She undid them with practiced ease and kicked the cumbersome hoop skirt away. Then, she slipped off her satin heels and put on a pair of simple white flats she had insisted on having as a backup.

She couldn't let Arlington Townsend walk into that ceremony blind. A public humiliation would enrage him, and that rage would fall squarely on her and the Galvan family. Her only leverage, her only chance at gaining his trust, was to warn him.

She opened the door a crack, peering into the hallway. Guests in their Sunday best milled about, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. She waited for a gap, then slipped out, hugging the wall and moving down a less-trafficked side corridor.

Signs pointed the way to the groom's room, tucked away on the opposite side of the chapel. Two men in dark, impeccably tailored suits stood guard outside the door. They were built like refrigerators, their faces impassive.

One of them stepped forward as she approached, blocking her path with a polite but firm arm. "Ma'am, Mr. Townsend is not to be disturbed."

Bonnie didn't flinch. She met his gaze directly, her voice steady and clear. "I'm the bride. It's an emergency."

The guard hesitated, his professional calm wavering for a fraction of a second. He spoke quietly into a microphone on his wrist. "Sir, Ms. Galvan is here. She says it's an emergency." A moment later, a crisp, cold voice crackled through his earpiece.

"Let her in."

The guard stepped aside.

Bonnie pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dim, the air cool. And there he was. Arlington Townsend.

He was sitting in a high-tech wheelchair, his body silhouetted against the light from a stained-glass window. His long, elegant fingers rested on the armrest, perfectly still. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, were fixed on her, deep and unreadable. A chilling aura of absolute stillness surrounded him, a stark contrast to the chaos of her own rebirth.

A man with sharp features and an even sharper suit, Riley Page, stood beside him, his expression a mixture of suspicion and disapproval.

Bonnie walked towards Arlington, her flats making no sound on the thick Persian rug. She stopped a few feet in front of him, deliberately keeping her gaze level, refusing to show the pity or disgust he must be so used to seeing.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was like gravel and ice. "Are you here to say goodbye?"

So, he'd already heard the rumors. Or perhaps he was just that perceptive.

"No," Bonnie said, her tone direct. "I'm not running."

A flicker of something-surprise, maybe-crossed his features. His fingers tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. He was assessing her.

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. "I'm here to warn you."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"In a few minutes," she continued, "when the priest asks if I take you as my husband, Erwin Woods is going to burst in and try to stop the wedding."

Arlington's gaze swept over her face, searching for any sign of a lie, any hint of a cruel joke. He found none.

"You know this," he stated, not a question. "So why aren't you with him? Why are you telling me?"

"Because Erwin Woods is a worthless piece of trash," Bonnie said, the words sharp and honest. "And I need the power of the Townsend name to save my family."

The blunt, transactional nature of her confession seemed to disarm him. He despised hypocrisy, and she had just laid her cards on the table.

A ghost of a smile, cold and sharp, touched his lips. "And what do you want from me?"

"Your cooperation," she said. "When he makes his scene, I need you to back me up. Don't let him succeed. And protect my father's dignity."

Just then, the deep, resonant chime of the church bells began to toll. The ceremony was about to begin.

Arlington held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes seeming to strip away every layer of her pretense, seeing the desperate, determined core beneath. He seemed to be re-evaluating everything he'd ever heard about the timid, flighty Bonnie Galvan.

He turned his wheelchair toward the door. As he passed her, his voice was a low command.

"Don't disappoint me."

Bonnie watched him go, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time that day. She had gambled, and the first hand was a win.

Riley Page moved to push the wheelchair, but Arlington waved him off, maneuvering it himself. Bonnie fell into step behind them as they moved toward the main hall, a silent, unlikely pair of allies heading into battle.

The grand hall of the church was a sea of white roses and hushed anticipation. The organ swelled, playing the majestic opening notes of the bridal march. Hundreds of guests rose to their feet as one.

Bonnie took her father's arm. Sterling Galvan's hand was trembling slightly, but his face was a mask of paternal pride. Through the delicate lace of her veil, Bonnie's eyes were sharp, focused. She was a hunter, not a lamb to the slaughter.

At the end of the long aisle, Arlington waited. He sat in his wheelchair with a ramrod-straight posture, his presence as commanding and immovable as a king on his throne.

Sterling placed his daughter's hand into Arlington's. His touch was cool, his fingers surprisingly strong. She gave his hand a slight, deliberate squeeze-a signal.

He squeezed back, a steady, reassuring pressure that communicated a silent understanding. I'm ready.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice droning on. In the front pew, Itzel was a coiled spring of anxiety, constantly glancing at her watch and then toward a side entrance. Bonnie saw her give a sharp, almost imperceptible nod. The signal.

"Do you, Bonnie Galvan, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health..."

The entire church held its breath. Itzel's lips were already curling into a triumphant, vicious smirk. She was ready for the drama, for Bonnie's tearful rejection.

Bonnie turned her head slightly, meeting Arlington's deep, intense gaze. For a split second, the world fell away, and it was just the two of them, partners in a conspiracy.

She took a breath, and her voice rang out, clear and unwavering.

"I do."

The words hit Itzel like a physical blow. Her smile froze, then crumbled. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her carefully constructed plan shattering before her eyes.

The priest turned to the groom.

"I do," Arlington said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

Before the priest could utter another word, the massive church doors at the back of the hall were thrown open with a deafening bang.

Erwin Woods stood there, panting, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild.

"Bonnie!" he screamed.

Before the security could react decisively, fearing a public brawl, he charged down the aisle, shoving past a security guard who belatedly tried to intercept him. The air exploded with the frantic clicking of camera shutters as the press corps captured every second of the unfolding disaster.

He skidded to a halt in front of the altar, grabbing for Bonnie's arm. His voice was a pathetic, theatrical sob.

"Don't do this, Bonnie! Don't marry him! He's a cripple! We're the ones who are supposed to be together!"

A collective gasp rippled through the pews. Whispers erupted like wildfire. In the front row, Erwin's father, Howard Woods, looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Itzel shot to her feet, a fake gasp on her lips, ready to play the part of the shocked best friend.

Bonnie stood her ground, letting Erwin's fingers dig into her wrist. She looked at his desperate, pleading face and felt nothing but cold, satisfying contempt.

Then, with a sharp, decisive motion, she yanked her arm free. She took a half-step back, positioning herself beside Arlington's wheelchair, a clear and public declaration of her choice.

She looked at her new husband, her expression a blank slate, waiting for him to make his move.

A slow, chilling smile spread across Arlington's lips. The show was on.

He raised a single, elegant hand, a silent command for the security guards to stand down. His gaze locked onto Erwin, and it was the look of a predator studying its insignificant prey.