The Billionaire’s Wedding Trap - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Tears burned hot trails down my cheeks as I lay motionless in the sterile hospital bed. My trembling hands cradled my empty womb, mourning the baby I'd never hold.
After what felt like an eternity, I discharged myself. Cain still hadn't shown his face since the "accident," but I shoved that painful thought aside.
The moment I crossed our threshold, their laughter hit me like a slap. There they were - Cain and Aliya - cozy as you please, sharing dinner like nothing had happened. Neither bothered to look up as I limped past them up the stairs.
Collapsing onto our bed, violent sobs wracked my body. The room still smelled of roses from our anniversary, but the petals might as well have been ashes now.
Everything was a lie. Our marriage. His love. And now my father... gone.
The door burst open and Cain's imposing frame filled the doorway. "I'm sorry about your father, Elle," he said, voice dripping with false sympathy. "You know I love you. But keep your mouth shut about Aliya's... accident."
I launched up despite the searing pain. "Accident? She pushed me!" My words came out sharp as knives.
His face darkened as he advanced. "I was there. It was an accident." Each word landed like a hammer blow.
My legs gave way as confusion swamped me. "But I—"
"Do. You. Understand?" His growl sent chills down my spine.
Heart pounding, I clutched my chest where our child should have been. All I could manage was a weak nod.
"Want to stay here? Then be a good girl and shut up." The door shook in its frame when he slammed it behind him.
I was unraveling.
At Dad's funeral the next day, my body felt carved from ice as I stared at his waxy face in the casket. My stepmother's theatrical wails grated my nerves, especially with her shiny new Birkin. And there stood Aliya, crocodile tears streaming down her perfect cheeks.
"What an actress," I hissed.
Cain's arm snaked around my waist for the cameras, his touch burning through my black dress. But his hungry eyes kept straying to my stepsister.
When they finally lowered Dad into the ground, I cornered the family lawyer. "I want to see the will."
"It's finalized. You'll get a copy tomorrow," he said briskly.
Aliya materialized beside me like a bad omen. "What were you whispering about with the lawyer?" Her sickly sweet tone made my stomach churn.
"None of your business."
Her lips curled into that viper's smile. "Discussing inheritance at Daddy's funeral? How heartless. Did you even care about him? Or are you just counting your money?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. All eyes judged me.
"We both know the truth," I shot back, but my voice cracked pathetically.
"I think you poisoned him," she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Red flooded my vision. My hand flew before I could think—CRACK!—my palm connected with her cheek so hard she spun to the ground, shrieking like a banshee.
Then Cain was there, his fist connecting with my face so hard I saw stars. "You psychotic bitch!" he roared, cradling Aliya like precious china while scorching me with his glare.
The cameras flashed. The crowd murmured. My heart shattered as he carried her away, leaving me standing there alone in my grief.
The car ride home was a blur of tears. I was just a pawn in their twisted game.
Cain awaited me at the dining table like some displeased king. "You will apologize to your sister. We're family. We don't air dirty laundry in public."
Rage boiled my blood, but what choice did I have?
"Yes," I whispered through numb lips. "I will."