The Billionaire’s Wedding Trap - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

The candlelight flickered as I sat at the perfectly set dining table, my palms damp and my heart hammering against my ribs.
Tonight marked one year since our wedding. One year since I'd walked out of that church on Cain Blackwood's arm. One year since I'd fallen hopelessly in love with him.
He'd saved me from humiliation that day—my knight in shining armor.
And tonight, I had a surprise of my own for him.
My hand drifted to my stomach, a smile tugging at my lips. I'd seen the fertility doctor earlier. After months of trying, I was finally pregnant with Cain's baby.
He didn't know yet. But I'd planned everything perfectly—his favorite meal simmering on the stove, an expensive bottle of his beloved whiskey chilling nearby.
Hours passed. My smile faded as the candles burned low. The food grew cold.
I grabbed my phone, fingers trembling as I dialed his number. Straight to voicemail. I tried twice more. Nothing.
Maybe he was stuck at work. Maybe he'd forgotten the significance of tonight. Or maybe he was just late picking up a gift.
Another hour crawled by. I slumped onto the couch, my eyes heavy, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
The voices from the TV jolted me awake. I blinked, my vision blurry, until one name sliced through the haze:
"Billionaire Cain Blackwood was spotted with a mystery blonde at the Grand Royale Hotel. Trouble in paradise for his one-year marriage to Elle King?"
I bolted upright, my breath catching as the screen flashed an image of Cain—arm wrapped around a blonde—stepping into the hotel lobby.
No.
Not Cain. Not again. I loved him.
My pulse roared in my ears as I stared, numb. There was something eerily familiar about the woman, but the angle obscured her face.
My fists clenched. I wasn't the same naive woman James Calloway had left at the altar. I wouldn't let history repeat itself.
I snatched my coat and stormed out, tires screeching as I sped toward the hotel. I'd given Cain everything. And he'd thrown me away.
The Grand Royale loomed before me. I inhaled sharply, then marched through the lobby, ignoring the hushed whispers trailing in my wake.
The receptionist stiffened as I approached. "Mrs. Blackwood—"
"My husband is here," I snapped. "Give me his room number."
She hesitated. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't—"
I arched a brow. "Should I call the press? Tell them Cain Blackwood is cheating on me in your hotel?"
Her resolve crumbled. "Penthouse suite. 112."
The elevator ride felt endless. When the doors finally opened, I charged forward, my keycard slicing through the silence.
Cain's voice drifted out, followed by a woman's laughter—a laugh I knew but couldn't place. My chest tightened.
"You thought I married Elle out of love?" Cain's voice was cold, mocking. "She was a means to an end. Her father's inheritance—that's all I needed. Once the will's rewritten in your favor and he's gone, I'll leave her."
"Just a few more weeks," the woman purred. "Then we'll have everything."
Ice flooded my veins.
Aliya.
My stepsister.
The woman my father had always cherished—despite me being his only daughter, his rightful heir. She and Cain had played me. Their entire romance, a calculated scheme.
A gasp escaped me before I could stifle it.
The room fell dead silent.
Then, slowly, the woman turned.
My heart stopped.
There she was. And beside her, tangled in the sheets—my husband. Cain's eyes locked onto mine, wide with shock.
I stood frozen, my world crumbling, as the truth tore through me.