The Billionaire's Trapped Wife

The sun cast a golden hue over the sprawling gardens of the Sinclair estate, where elegantly dressed guests mingled under billowing white tents. Crystal chandeliers hung from the trees, casting a mesmerizing dance of light across the lush surroundings. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, a realm of affluence and opulence that whispered promises of dreams come true.

In the heart of this enchanting spectacle stood Yazmin Collymore, her eyes aglow with a mix of awe and anticipation. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded down her back. She had a pair of piercing sapphire eyes, as deep and mesmerizing as the ocean. She was indeed pretty, wearing a short black sleeveless gown with heels.

Although it wasn't Yazmin's wedding, she was sure she was way more happy then the bride herself. Why shouldn't she be? This was the one wedding planning gig that could change her life.

She had planned many celebrity weddings but the Sinclairs were powerful and influencial which had made her sometimes wonder why their only son would be getting married to a nobody like Freya Hugnes.

Freya was from a humble background and the bride to be married into the Sinclair family, Yasmin had only met her once. She had tried her best to impress Freya the first time they had met for a wedding dress fitting but the bride never really showed much of a reaction. Yazmin had seen the longing in her eyes, like she wanted to be somewhere else and with someone else, doing something else.

Yazmin had asked her why she had that kind of look on and why she never for once smiled during the dress fitting and Freya had told her she was just conflicted. Yazmin had told her to follow her heart, because it didn't matter what others thought. Freya's wedding was going to change her fortune for good and that was all that mattered.

As she discreetly navigated through the crowd, her mind raced back to the early days when her father's tragic accident had shattered her world. He had died from a car accident six years ago and they had ended up losing all his properties to Yazmin's greedy uncle, Dean Collymore.

After that, Yazmin and her mother and sister had to move to a very tiny apartment. Struggling to make ends meet, Yazmin had picked up shifts at different places for years until she finally got drawn into the world of wedding planning by a friend. And so far, she had been doing great, unless something goes wrong at this wedding. It would be the end of her career.

"Yaz!" She heard someone call her name among the crowd. She slowly turned to the direction and she was surprised to see Molly, her best friend who she had begged to attend the wedding but had declined because she said rich people disgusted her.

"Hey! You came?" Yazmin's voice rang out in excitement as she held Molly's hands.

Molly smiled at her and Yazmin could feel that familiar comfort in her smile. Molly's smile was enough to light up a room and that smile had led her to be voted 'Most likely to marry a billionaire' in their high school year book. Besides that, she was a beauty to behold.

Yazmin watched Molly bring out a pair of glasses from her her bag. She smiled as she handed it over to her, "I came to drop it off, your mum said you would need it" she said.

Yazmin collected it from her and examined it, she had expected it to be broken because it had been missing for a few days but as usual, her mom had found it.

Yazmin's lips curled into a smile, "Thanks, Molly. Where did mum find it? I've been looking all over for it,"

"In a big bag in your kitchen, I think," Molly replied, exchanging glances with her.

"You mean 'the bag of multiple stuffs'?" She asked almost bursting into a laugh.

Yazmin's mother had this bag in the kitchen that had been there since they moved in. Yazmin and her little sister Janelle had always called it 'the bag of multiple stuffs' because the bag seemed to always have everything, even stuffs they didn't need. Their tiny apartment itself, contained a lot of stuffs they didn't need.

It hadn't always been like that, full of junk and unnecessary items. When they moved in five years ago, it actually looked pretty normal-a tiny apartment with a little clutter, nothing out of the ordinary.

But after Yazmin's mom was diagnosed with cancer two years ago, Yazmin's mom started not being able to let go of things. That would mean it started two years ago. Since then the problem had only gotten worse. They had hoped it would stop after her cancer had miraculously disappeared months ago but it never stopped.

Yazmin and her sister had to move all the unnecessary stuffs to their basement when the house could no longer take the load. Now, their basement was fillled floor to ceiling with stuffs. Stacks of plastic bins, filled with old papers and receipts and clothes they no longer used and toys and tangled jewelry and journals and Christmas decorations and old candy bar wrappers and expired makeup and empty shampoo bottles and broken mug pieces in Ziploc bags.

Sometimes, Yazmin would fantasize about them moving to another house. Then they'd have to pack up the stuff they wanted to take with them into moving boxes. And if they had to pack stuffs into moving boxes, that meant they'd have to sort through all the stuffs in the house and get rid of some of it. And that sounded wonderful.

Yazmin had already found the perfect house, all that was left was for the wedding to come to an end and for her to receive her huge paycheck.

Molly tapped her, jilting her back from her thoughts, "I have a very important appointment, I gotta go now" she said and stormed off before Yazmin could say anything.

Yazmin sighed as she watched Molly disappear into the crowd. She glanced at her wristwatch, ten more minutes before the wedding started.

As she made her way through the crowd into the VIP lounge, she couldn't help but think how lucky Freya was. She was getting married into the Sinclair family, the most influential family in the whole of North Carolina. Even Sin City was named after the Sinclairs. She couldn't help but think how happy Freya would be once she got married.

Although, she had heard rumors that Freya's groom, the only son of the Sinclair family was cold and heartless, she had dismissed it as a mere rumor from their rivals. Rumors also had it that he was ridiculously hot. Yazmin hadn't met him even once and she wasn't looking forward to it either.

She stood in front of the door that read, "VIP Dressing room". She slowly knocked, once, twice, but there was no response. Slowly, she tilted the door knob and it opened easily revealing an empty dressing room.

Yazmin stepped into the room, her eyes scanning every corner for Freya. She was nowhere in sight. She felt her heart slowly start to race but she reassured herself that Freya probably stepped out for fresh air.

But as Yazmin turned to leave, something on the dressing table stole her attention – a plain white paper, lying there as if waiting to be seen. Yazmin's instincts, honed by curiosity, walked to the table and grabbed the paper.

As her eyes blurred thorough the words on the plain sheet, Yazmin felt a lump come to her throat. She held her breath, going through the words again, she read out:

"Yazmin, I had to do this. I don't want to get married to Blaine Sinclair. I love someone else and I thought I could be able to get more money off Blaine if I married him. But your advice for me to follow my heart gave me a change of heart. I'm sorry I had to run away. Thanks for your help, Yaz"

The fragment of advice Yazmin had offered to Freya the other day echoed in her mind, a well-intentioned nugget of wisdom that had inadvertently altered the course of the day.

With a heart pounding, Yazmin could see her world crumbling down. A realization struck her like a lightning bolt, in that moment, the world around her seemed to blur as a singular thought crystallized – the Sinclair wedding, the apex of her career, teetered on the edge of disaster.

As the loud wedding bells rang, Yazmin's determination hardened. She couldn't let this be her legacy – a shattered dream, a reputation tarnished. With a resolve as unyielding as her father's spirit, Yazmin took a step forward, ready to alter the trajectory of fate and save the day.

Little did she know, this step would plunge her into a world of complexities and challenges beyond anything she could have imagined, setting in motion a series of events that would forever intertwine her destiny with that of a cold and enigmatic billionaire.

Yazmin Collymore stood before the grand mirror, the soft glow of the vanity lights framing her reflection in a halo of warmth. She tried to fanthom the lady that was staring back at her. It couldn't possibly be her, she couldn't possibly be this desperate. As much as she tried to convince herself that she was doing the right thing by saving herself and the Sinclairs from humiliation, there was this nagging feeling.

The feeling that she was wrong. The feeling that she should turn back and run as far away from the humiliation as possible. But it was too late, she was already wearing the wedding gown draped over her form, its intricate lace and delicate beadwork shimmering under the soft illumination. Her heart raced, uncertainty coursing through her veins.

Her fingers traced the intricate patterns on the bodice, her reflection still staring back at her with sapphire eyes that held a whirlwind of emotions. Was this really happening?

Yazmin finally lowered her veil, covering her face. This was it, the moment of truth. As she heard a soft knock on the door, she quickly sat by the dressing table, pretending to cut a loose tread from her dress.

A middle aged woman walked in, concern etched on her feature. She stood beside Yazmin, placing her hand on her shoulder, she spoke. "Are you sure you want to do this, Freya? I know Mr Sinclair is paying you to get married to him but I think you should think it through. Is all the money worth it without true happiness?" The middle aged woman said.

Yazmin was shocked, how could 'the' Blaine Sinclair be paying Freya to get married to him? That explained why he was marrying a woman from a lower class like Freya. Yazmin sighed and then nodded, determined to keep her facade.

The middle aged woman led her out of the room and with each step Yazmin took, she felt she was closer to her doom. As she stood behind the ornate doors of the grand ballroom, her heart raced like a wild stallion. She adjusted the veil that concealed her face, her fingers trembling. The scent of fresh flowers permeated the air, mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet playing a gentle melody in the background.

Yazmin took a deep breath, her pulse quickening with each passing second. This was not how she'd imagined her involvement in this wedding. It was supposed to be a seamless orchestration of perfection, not a desperate attempt to save her reputation.

The door creaked open, and the sunlight flooded the room, illuminating the elegant aisle adorned with petals of white and gold. As the music swelled, Yazmin took her first step, her heart pounding in rhythm with the melody.

The gazes of the few guests that were allowed in to witness the wedding, bore into her, their curiosity and intrigue evident. They all wanted to know who Blaine Sinclair's bride was and why her identity had been tightly concealed so far.

As Yazmin approached the altar, she sighted her groom standing by the alter but she could not see clearly because of her veil. He reached out to take her gloved hand in his. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and for a milli second, she forgot the charade she was embroiled in.

The officiant began to speak, the words blending together as Yazmin struggled to steady her racing thoughts. As the vows were exchanged, she silently prayed that nothing should go wrong.

And then, the moment arrived. The officiant looked to her, his gaze expectant, waiting for her response. Yazmin's voice wavered slightly as she recited her vows, her voice choking at every syllable. The gravity of the situation hit her – the irony of pledging her commitment to a man she had never met.

The groom's grip tightened on her hand as they exchanged rings. It felt like the room held its collective breath, the silence palpable as they were declared "husband and wife."

"You may now kiss your bride" The officiant's voice, instead of cutting through the air, cut through Yazmin's heart.

Yazmin clenched her shaky hands. Kiss the bride? Why? What for? Why? She would automatically be ruined if her veil was pulled up. Her breath was persistent as she struggled not to panic. Her palms were sweaty and she popped her knuckles. She took in three deep breaths for no reason and her legs were shaking as she could see the groom's hand, slowly holding the tip of her veil.

She closed her eyes shut, waiting for her fate but for a moment, nothing happened. She slowly fluttered her eyes open as she looked up at her groom.

"I don't think we wanna kiss in front of y'all" she heard his masculine voice say, his voice weavered but resolute.

Yazmin let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. The wedding finally came to an end and she could feel her groom's grip tight on hers as her led her out of the wedding hall.

As they drew closer to the dressing room, his grip still on hers, Yazmin could feel her heart freezing with fear. What was happening? Why was he saving her from the crowd? Did he perhaps suspect something?

Raindrops began to fall, as if even the weather mirrored the turmoil within Yazmin. The sky, which had been clear just moments ago, transformed into a canvas of gray, and the rain pelted down like tears from the heavens. The drops were heavy on the ceiling, the only sound that distracted her from thinking about what was coming her way.

Finally, they entered into the dressing room and he roughly dropped her hand, as she could hear him slam the door behind them.

Yazmin's pulse quickened and her senses heighten as she took a step back. She could feel tension reverberating through the room as they both remained silent. With her veil still on, she could hear him sigh as he took a seat.

"I know you're not Freya" She heard him say, his voice calm but convincing.

Yazmin couldn't help herself. Her jaws dropped to the floor and her eyebrows shot to the ceiling. How did he figure it out? Had she made a mistake in perfecting her facade?

Slowly, she raised her veil and looked up at her groom, their eyes locking unto each other. Yazmin felt her heart skip a beat. She had heard a lot about Blaine Sinclair, especially about his good look but right now, he exceeded all her expectations.

She couldn't get a good look at him during the ceremony because of her veil but now that she could, she wondered how she would be able to get her eyes off him. He was really charming. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, and the smirk on his face made her heart skip again.

He was beyond handsome, with dark hair that was a bit messy but looked good. His suit fit perfectly, showing off his strong shoulders. She noticed little lines around his eyes that told her he frowned a lot.

Getting a grip of herself, Yazmin found her words, "I'm so sorry, Mr Sinclair. I had my reasons for doing this" she managed to say, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

The fact that he didn't give her a reply, instead he scoffed, made Yazmin more tensed. Her palms were sweaty as she listened carefully for any reaction or words from him but there was none.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, she spoke again, hoping for a more productive response this time, "I understand how you're feeling right now, Mr Sinclair but..."

Yazmin couldn't finish her statement, the vibration from her phone interrupted her. She reached for the small pocket in her inner robe and pulled it out. With a sinking feeling, she read the message that had just popped up on the screen. Her heart clenched as the words blurred before her eyes – "Mom was rushed to hospital. Come now."

Dread washed over her like a cold wave, numbing her thoughts as panic set in. She felt a lump form in my throat, making it hard for her to breathe.

Without saying a word, Yazmin rushed out of the room into the hallway. Everything around her seemed to blur as the world momentarily stopped spinning. She quickened her steps as she made her way down the stairs, bumping into an old couple.

She didn't apologize, she didn't have the time to. But as she approached closer to the exit, a swan of reporters gathered around her. Cameras clicked, capturing her in frozen frames.

"You're Mr Blaine Sinclair's new bride?" "What's your real name?" "Why has he been keeping your identity hidden so far?" "How did you guys meet?" "Aren't you a wedding planner?" "Why would your plan your own wedding?"

Their voice blurred together as Yazmin came to the realization that she was still in her wedding dress and her identity had just been found. She froze, as she felt a rising tide of fear from her head to her toe.

As the cameras flashed, her only thought was of her mother – her warmth, her laughter, and the countless times she had been her pillar of strength. Deep down, she was worried if her cancer was back. After her two years cancer miraculously disappeared, they had been thinking what was and what not. She could feel her heart racing, her chest tight with worry, and a sense of helplessness consumed her.

But she was more concerned about her mother than anything else. Determined, Yazmin pushed her way through the crowd into the not so friendly hands of the heavy rain outside. She rushed to the cab stand, clutching her gown tightly to her chest.

With no hope of getting any lift, she resorted to trekking. She knew the hospital her mom would be at. Probably the one they used to take her to whenever her cancer acted up. As Yazmin navigated through the street, her mind raced with a lot of thoughts. What if her mother's cancer was back again? What if, this time, it was there to stay? She couldn't possibly live without her mother.

What Yazmin hadn't considered, though, was just how miserable the combination of walking eight boring miles in a wedding dress and battling through heavy rain would be.

As each step took her farther from the wedding venue and closer to the hospital, the reality of her situation became painfully clear. The once-pristine fabric of her gown clung to her skin, heavy and sodden.

Muddy water splashed up around her feet, mixing with the rain and turning the hem of the dress into a dark, soggy mess.

The road ahead stretched on endlessly, but finally she got to the hospital. She made her way to the desk, asking about her mother but she could feel some sets of eyes digging holes into her skin. She rushed to the hospital room, her sister and a doctor already standing at the door of the room.

She could see confusion evident in the way she looked at her but Yazmin had to time for explanation.

"What happened to mom?" she asked the doctor as she finally caught her breath.

The doctor, taken aback by her appearance, remained composed, "You have nothing to worry about. Your mother passed out due to stress. She just needs rest for a few days" he replied and walked away.

On hearing that, Yazmin felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulder. She rested on Janelle who was evidently curious as to why her sister looked like a mess.

"For a moment, I thought..." Yazmin managed to say as she exchanged an understanding glance with Janelle which made her realize they'd both feared the same thing.

Yazmin considered Janelle responsible and reliable. It made sense since she was basically an adult-she was eighteen-but even so, she seemed to have a sturdiness to her that Yazmin hadn't seen in many other teens around her age.

Yazmin had tried to compliment her on how she handled things like an adult but Janelle had always called her a brownnoser. Yazmin wasn't sure what exactly that was, but she could tell it wasn't a good thing by the way she always said it. Even so, she was pretty sure Janelle secretly appreciated the compliments.

Janelle sighed, patting her on the shoulder with a reassuring smile, "I'm happy mum's fine" she stopped abruptly as she scanned her eyes through her sister's dress. "Did you get married behind our backs?"

Yazmin let out a sigh, unsure of how to explain her ordeal to her sister. "I agreed to model for a wedding dress brand and you called me in the middle of my shoot" she replied, looking sideways.

Janelle glared at her for a moment, "Well, I hope the dress is free because, heck! It's totally ruined"

About an hour later, Yazmin had already changed into a crop top and jeans. She waited patiently for her mom to wake up but she was still asleep. It was already dark outside and the rain had subsided and while they were waiting, she fell asleep on Janelle's shoulders in the waiting lounge.

...

Blaine Sinclair slammed his fists onto the dressing table, causing the dressing mirror to crack. Anger surged through him, evident in his sparking eyes and flaring nostrils. Knotting his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, he stood up, his entire being consumed by fury.

That damned wedding planner was the cause of his rage. How could she have carelessly revealed her true identity as his wife to the press? The very idea of it infuriated him. She had wrecked his carefully crafted plan.

Blaine had never intended to remain married to Freya for long, which was why he had concealed her identity, even her name, from the public eye. The plan was simple: marry her, secure the merger with his grandfather, and then swiftly divorce her after a month or two.

The proposal had come from his grandfather, Trent Gaberman, who was on the brink of retirement. He had offered a merger of their respective companies, but there was a condition attached – Blaine had to get married again.

But after his first wife, his first love, left him with their six-month-old daughter to pursue her acting career thirteen years ago, he had sworn off marriage for good. His sole focus had been on taking care of his daughter, Ayra and building his own company, multibillion dollar company, SinCo Enterprises. But the merger with his grandfather presented an opportunity to surpass even his father's company, and he couldn't let it slip away.

Reluctantly, he had agreed to his grandfather's terms and had hired Freya to play the role of his bride. Little did he know that she would betray him by fleeing on the day of the wedding. And now, not only was he dealing with her betrayal, but also the repercussions of the wedding planner unveiling her identity to the press.

As he sat at the dressing table, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him, a gentle knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. His grandfather, Trent Gaberman, entered the room. With his aged frame and the support of a cane, he slowly made his way to a chair and sat down.

"I'm so glad you're finally married, Blaine," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "I saw your bride running in the hallway. I never thought you'd find love again after Hattie."

Blaine remained stoic, though a storm of emotions churned within him. He hadn't forgotten Hattie, his ex-wife. The tattoo of her name etched on his lower abdomen served as a constant reminder of the pain she inflicted upon him.

"I suppose," He replied numbly, neither confirming nor denying his assumption.

Trent sighed as he struggled to rise from the chair, leaning on his cane for support. "Well, let's see how your marriage holds up for a year. Only then can we decide about the merger."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. The idea of being married for a year seemed unfathomable, almost unbearable. With an attempt to maintain a calm facade, he voiced his thoughts. "A year? You must be joking."

"No joke, Blaine. I have faith in you. I believe you'll thrive," Trent declared as he slowly departed from the room.

Left alone with his turbulent thoughts, Blaine contemplated the unexpected twist. If he wanted the merger to proceed, he had to find a way to contact the wedding planner – the woman who had posed as his wife. The stakes were higher than ever now.

He reached for his phone and swiftly dialed his secretary's number. It was time to take matters into his own hands and find the wedding planner who had made a fool out of him.

"Greg, I need you to find the wedding planner immediately," He instructed, his voice firm and determined. "I don't care what it takes. Use all our resources, contacts, and connections. Find her and bring her to me."

There was a brief pause on the line before Greg responded, "Of course, Mr. Sinclair. I'll get on it right away"

"Good," He replied curtly before ending the call. He leaned back and a smirk played on his lips. The merger with his grandfather's company was hanging in the balance, and if he didn't find the wedding planner and salvage the situation, everything would crumble before his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. He would find her, confront her, and make her pay for the havoc she had wreaked upon his carefully orchestrated plan. He had another way of finding her, without any stress and nothing would stand in his way.

...

Next morning...

The bright sun coarsed through the busy lounge as Yazmin's eyes fluttered open. She rubbed her eyes, trying to see clearly. She sat up from the long bench realizing it was morning already. She felt a sting in her back due to the stiffness of the chair, as her eyes scanned the sea of people. Taking in the scenery, she searched for Janelle but she was nowhere to be found.

She reached for her phone in her pocket to call her but she noticed a missed call from Molly.

With a yawn, she called her back, curiosity mingling with the remnants of drowsiness. "Hey, Molly. What's up?" She asked, stifling a yawn.

"Yazmin! Oh my goodness, you won't believe what's happening!" Molly exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

Yazmin could sense Molly's excitement through the phone, and curiosity started to replace her fatigue. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

Molly paused for a moment, probably trying to find the right words. "Yazmin, you're... you're the most trending topic online right now! It's all over the news! And, wait for it... you've been confirmed as the wife of a billionaire! When did you even get married without..."

Yazmin sat up abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest. The news hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the situation.