The Billionaire's Little Wife

" Life won't give you what you want, you have to fight for it. "

*****

- Malisa -

" You are getting married in two weeks, Malisa. " The words rang in my head like a bell and it took a lot of strength and intentionality for me not to have fallen to the ground at the words.

How can that be?

" But, Dad - " I stared at the man who was seated like a king on the couch in front of me with eyes filled with tears.

" I can't get married. " I swallowed the lump in my throat as my words descended.

" Why? " His words were heavy and held a tinge of warning in them.

" I'm only eighteen, " I dared to stare at him and saw the fire therein, but I spoke regardless of what I saw there.

" I've got drea - "

" Dreams? " He stumped his cane harshly to the ground, standing abruptly, forcing me to take several steps backward.

" I - "

" Malisa Bree, " His words sounded like fire, threatening to burn me to death. " Your future has been decided the moment you were born and you've got no say about it. "

" Dad, please... I can't. " I was on my knees, almost immediately. I stared at my mom who was seated like a puppet next to my Dad, she would have been the perfect person to beg. But she was worse than my Dad. The truth is, I didn't know which of them was better.

" You won't? " His words were cold and sharp.

" Dad, I - "

" Have you forgotten that your worth as a lady is found in the husband you get married to? "

" I - "

" Prepare her, Sir Donald will be here in a few hours to meet her. Make sure she's well prepared to meet him. " He turned to my mom, who nodded like a robot.

" Yes, sir. " Given how scared she was, I somehow wonder if he was truly her husband or her master as he sure doesn't act like that actually.

" And Malisa, " I felt chills go down my spine as he stared back at me. " You know better than to run away, right? " Hearing his words was like a reminder, as I figured I had kind of been thinking of it. But would I even dare to?

" I - "

" You know what happened to Gloria Steinem, when she attempted running away, right? " Gloria? How could I forget?

The lady has been filled with dreams just like I am and sought to escape from the claws of death, but only ended up in the den of lions when she encountered some men at the bush who molested her till she gave up the ghost. Her family of course wasn't bothered about burying her as they somehow believed she deserved what she got. But did she?

" She wouldn't dare to run away Dad, she's not as brave as that. " James, my younger brother, responded before I could, I had actually forgotten they were also in the room too.

" Good. " He turned to my mom.

" Take this. " He threw his pouch containing some coins at her and she caught it swiftly before it could drop to the ground. I used to wonder how she did that, but after experiencing the consequence of not being swift, I knew better.

" Head to the market now and get the essentials she'll need for both her meeting with Sir Donald and her wedding in two weeks. "

" Okay, Sir. "

" You can leave. " I stood up immediately at his words and went straight to my room.

***

" You'll be getting married in two weeks, " I felt the tears I have been holding drop uncontrollably out of my eyes as the words kept ringing in my ears.

' I'm only eighteen, how can I get married already? '

' What would become of me and my dreams if I were to? ' The thought of that caused me more pain than ever.

Sir Donald, my supposed husband wasn't only old enough to be my Dad, but he was well known to be a womanizer and a woman beater.

How could my Dad even ask me to get married to him?

What exactly was he thinking?

My thoughts were interrupted, when Eva, one of the maids, came to inform me that breakfast was ready.

" I will be there. " I fixed my hair and face before exiting the room.

Dad was sitting at the head seat as always, I sat next to my mom who didn't bother to acknowledge my presence. Oftentimes, I wondered if she was actually my biological mother or adoptive mom.

But even adoptive mothers treated their folks better, didn't they?

Silently as everyone else, I munched on the egg fried which tasted as delicious as ever. Even though mom wasn't perfect, her superb cooking never ceases to lighten up my mood.

I was on my way back to my room, to complete the novel I was reading when I encountered my friends at the door.

" Lisa. "

" Hey. " I smiled at them. Despite the obvious differences, I still can't deny the fact that they are amazing and have made things a bit easier for me in the past few months.

" What's up? " I said as we walked towards my room where we did most of our girls talk.

" We heard you are getting married in two weeks. " It was Cordelia who spoke up this time and I winced at the reminder.

" Yeah... "

" Are you excited? " For some reason, Rachel had always been a fan of marriage, she could be tagged as a party freak and had been dreaming about her marriage since she was young.

" What do you think? " I threw the question back at them, obviously not interested in playing with words.

" You do know you can't escape from this, right? " Maybe, I thought inwardly. My mantra since childhood has always been, " Wherever there's a will there is a way " and it still hasn't changed even now in adulthood.

" Besides, Sir Donald isn't that bad, he is rich and still handsome despite his age. "

" He is a woman beater. " I adjusted my position on the bed.

" There's no particular evidence to prove that, is there? For all I care, it might all just be rumors. "

" What if it isn't? " Silence followed my words, as I watched their faces become serious in deep thoughts.

The truth is, we couldn't do anything about it if it really was. Sir Donald, is the city's mayor and if one thing he calls the shot.

" Malisa, Sir Donald is here. " I didn't hear the door open, but mom's words did make my heart sink.

Speak of the devil and he appears.

Sigh,

....

A/N : What do you think, guys?

" Maybe, pain is only meant to shape us into a better, more fulfilled version of ourselves. "

---

After my mother's announcement that my so-called groom had arrived, my friends quietly took their leave. Cordelia, usually the most composed, held me in a brief embrace. There was sympathy in her eyes, though she tried to mask it. She's always been sensitive, feeling deeply even when she doesn't want to show it.

A knock on my door pulled me back to reality. I hadn't realized how tense I was until the sound startled me. It wasn't just the meeting that unsettled me, but the fact that he had chosen my room for it. Who does that? But I suppose I couldn't expect much less from a man like our mayor.

" Come in, " I called, struggling to keep my voice even. The door creaked open, and in walked the mayor, his presence thick and suffocating.

" Good day, Mayor, " I managed, bowing slightly. I wasn't sure how to address him, the awkwardness of the situation making my movements stiff.

He didn't respond immediately, and I forced myself to meet his gaze. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his skin dull and uneven. His eyes were sunken, almost lifeless, and his lips looked dry and worn. He looked every bit his age, perhaps even older. The only thing missing was a beard, but his bald head more than made up for it. It reminded me of my father, though not in any comforting way.

"What are you staring at?" His voice snapped me back to the moment. I quickly straightened up.

"Please, come in," I said, regaining my voice. I gestured toward the couch, relieved there was something to offer him other than my bed.

"Sit with me," he ordered, patting the space beside him. I hesitated, then reluctantly crossed the room and sat down, making sure to leave a gap between us.

Before he could say anything more, my mother entered, carrying a tray with a forced smile plastered across her face. "I brought your lunch, sir," she said, her voice a little too high-pitched, a little too shaky.

"Put it there," he said, pointing to my study table without looking at her. She did as he asked and quickly retreated, but not before shooting me a look of pity. I was used to that by now.

"What's on your mind?" The mayor's voice cut through the silence, calm but with a sharp edge that made my skin crawl. His words sounded concerned, but there was nothing warm about the way he spoke.

"Nothing," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Tell me."

I froze as his hand grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my skin. My breath hitched, but I forced myself to stay still, afraid of what might happen if I showed too much resistance.

"It's nothing," I repeated, my voice trembling.

He held my gaze for a moment longer before releasing me. "Good. In two weeks, you'll be my wife. You should start learning now that submission will get you far in this marriage."

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything more. His breath, tainted with the stench of tobacco, lingered in the air, and I fought the urge to gag. My cheeks burned where his hand had been, but I dared not touch them.

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands with exaggerated care, as if the mere act of touching me had dirtied him. Then, without a second thought, he tossed the cloth into the waste bin, an action that made me swallow hard.

"Your mother tells me you're quite the cook," he said, changing the subject abruptly. "You'll take over the kitchen after the wedding."

I stiffened at his words. "Yes, sir," I responded, forcing a smile that felt all wrong. The idea of becoming his servant, in more ways than one, made my stomach churn, but I swallowed the bitterness rising within me.

"Good. You seem obedient. Let's hope that's the case in every aspect of our marriage," he said with a grin that made my skin crawl once more. His eyes lingered on me a little too long, and I suddenly felt exposed, despite the long-sleeved dress I wore.

"Yes," I whispered, unable to say anything else.

"Your mother brought me lunch, and I'm going to eat it," he continued, his eyes never leaving me as I moved to serve him. The silence was suffocating as he watched my every move, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Once the meal was laid out, he began to eat, but we didn't exchange another word. I kept my eyes averted, counting the seconds until he would leave.

When he finally stood, I could barely suppress the sigh of relief. Without so much as a goodbye, he walked out, leaving me alone in the quiet, stifling room.

---

Later, at dinner, my father's voice was firm as always. "I trust you didn't offend Mr. Ronald."

"No, Father," I replied, my voice even, though inside I was still reeling from the encounter.

"Good," he said, nodding in approval. He turned to my mother. "Have you made all the necessary preparations for the wedding?"

"Yes, my lord," my mother responded, her voice quiet but steady.

"Good," he repeated, this time directing his gaze at me. "You'll stay in your room until the wedding day. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, bowing my head. I knew there was no use arguing. The decision had been made long before I had any say in it.

"You're being unusually quiet. You aren't planning anything, are you?" my father asked, narrowing his eyes.

"No, sir," I responded, keeping my tone as respectful as possible.

"She wouldn't dare," my mother added quickly. "She knows what's at stake."

"Good," my father said. "Let's eat."

The table was laid with pancakes and fries, as always. The food was delicious, but I could barely taste it. My mind was too full of questions, doubts, and a creeping sense of doom. My friends had called me lucky. They said I was fortunate to have caught the eye of someone as wealthy and influential as the mayor. But now, I couldn't help but wonder what they would think if they knew what he was really like.

As I picked at my food, I thought of other girls in similar positions-girls who had been married off to men far older, far crueler than them. Some had escaped, though many had not. Isabella came to mind, the beautiful girl who had been forced to marry a poor farmer. She had died in childbirth, her body weakened by lack of care. Some said it was her fate; others whispered that she deserved it. I couldn't help but wonder what fate awaited me.

A verse from my favorite book suddenly surfaced in my mind: "For I know the plans I have for you... plans to give you hope and a future." The words felt distant, but I clung to them, desperate for some kind of reassurance.

"Malisa," my father's voice broke into my thoughts.

"Yes, sir?"

"There's been a change."

My heart sank. "What kind of change?"

"The wedding has been moved. It will take place next week."

"Next week?" The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it. My pulse quickened, and the world seemed to tilt around me. Everything was moving too fast.

"Yes, tomorrow," my father confirmed, his tone final. There was no room for argument. No time for escape.

In that moment, it felt like the ground beneath me was crumbling, taking every last shred of hope with it.

---

A/N: What do you think, guys?

" Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift. That is why it is called the present. "

- Malisa -

"Aiden Evans," I read aloud, my eyes lingering on the name in the magazine article.

It was Tuesday afternoon, and I'd just finished my chores and finally decided to settle on the couch to have a nap, before my mom returned from her shopping spree, which was obviously for my wedding.

The urge to run away was becoming as strong as ever, as the day drew near. Saturday is the day, meaning in less than five days, I would be married off to the city's mayor. How saddening.

Regardless, I let the thoughts slip out of my mind as I typed the name on the magazine into Instagram. And there he was-Aiden Evans. His photos, his posts-everything about him was stunning.

I watched a video of him speaking, and I couldn't help but fall for the sound of his voice. How could someone speak so eloquently, so effortlessly?

Before I knew it, I was scrolling through his socials like a lovesick teenager, my heart racing with each photo.

Gosh, he was beyond handsome. Super-duper handsome.

The scrolling turned into a full-blown obsession, and then, in a moment of boldness, I messaged him.

"Hi, Aiden..." I cringed as I typed the words. But instead of deleting it, I hesitated and decided to leave it as is. After all, why would he ever see it? With hundreds of thousands of followers, my message would likely get lost in the crowd.

The next morning, I was in disbelief when I saw his reply.

"Hello, Malisa. How are you?"

I stared at the screen, wide-eyed. Celebrities never reply to messages. At least, that's what I'd always been told.

What had changed?

It took me a minute to gather my thoughts before replying. And when I finally did, I couldn't believe how casual I sounded.

"I'm okay. You?"

"Stressed," he responded almost immediately.

I felt my heart skip a beat. Stressed? A billionaire like him? Aren't they supposed to keep things like this under wraps?

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, stepping into territory that felt dangerously personal.

"It's nothing really. Just work."

"Okay," I replied, closing the conversation before I could say something embarrassing.

I tried to distract myself with a book, but my mind kept drifting back to Aiden. I felt like I was drowning in confusion and emotion.

Why did I feel this way?

I glanced over at my Bible, and an unexpected sense of calm washed over me as I opened its pages.

The next day, I was lying in bed, deep in thought when I got another notification from Aiden. This time, it was a photo-a young, beautiful girl smiling in the picture.

His daughter? I felt a pang of disappointment in my chest, but then I saw the caption:

"Baby Sis."

Relief flooded through me. In that moment, I knew that what I felt wasn't just a fleeting crush. It was something deeper-silent affection, maybe even love.

The girl in the photo was stunning, and I found myself wondering where the beauty came from. Her features were so similar to his... It had to be in the genes.

Without thinking, I messaged him again.

"Your sister is beautiful," I wrote.

"She is," he replied almost instantly.

"Yeah," I added, my voice trailing off in the silence that followed.

For a long while, I didn't know what to say. But then his message appeared on my screen:

"How are you?"

It hit me-this was why I was awake at this hour, unable to rest, because of the thoughts and emotions swirling in my mind. I could have easily replied with the usual "good," but tonight, I felt compelled to be honest.

"I'm... stressed."

"About?" he responded quickly.

I hesitated, torn between being truthful and protecting my privacy. But something about our conversation made me want to be open, so I typed the words that had been on my mind for days.

"Marriage."

Aiden paused before replying, his next message more thoughtful.

"Whose?"

"Mine..."

"Arranged?"

"Yeah."

"Are you happy with it?"

"No. I don't love him!" I sent, my heart racing as I hit 'send.'

His response was immediate, and for the first time, I felt a sense of compassion from him.

"Do you have plans to get out of the situation?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I had thought about running away, but I couldn't. My parents wouldn't allow it.

"I had thought about running away, but I can't. My parents don't permit me to leave the house," I confessed.

"Um... prayed about it?" he asked, surprising me with his suggestion.

"Yeah..." I responded, not expecting him to ask such a personal question. Aren't billionaires supposed to be atheists?

"Okay... Just keep your mind at ease, Kay?"

"Yeah... thank you."

For some reason, after that conversation, I felt a burden lift off my chest. It was strange, like talking to him had been a form of therapy, something I didn't know I needed.

Was this what it felt like to have a best friend? I thought about Gabriella, my childhood best friend, and the long years that had passed since we'd last spoken. But the memories of her still lingered, and I couldn't help but feel comforted by them.

Soon, sleep took over, and for the first time in a while, I felt at peace. Maybe, just maybe, everything would fall into place. I had to believe that, even if life didn't always work out so easily.

---

On the other side of the world, Aiden found himself rereading his conversation with Malisa. There was something about it that felt... different. Something he couldn't quite explain.

He had only exchanged two messages with her, yet he felt an odd connection. It was strange, especially considering how much he valued his privacy.

Her picture lingered in his mind-she was beautiful, no doubt about it. But it wasn't just her appearance; it was the way her skin tone seemed to glow in harmony with her eyes, and that smile-it was dazzling.

Why did he care so much?

Was there something more to this connection? A future? Maybe, just maybe.

---

A/N: What do you think, guys?