Blind Wife’s Cruel Awakening

In the aftermath, Ronan was forced to marry me.

My parents had confronted him. "Cora has loved you for fifteen years. Now she's blind for you. You will marry her."

Don Gallagher, his father, had also issued an ultimatum.

"Marry Cora, or you can forget about your position as heir!"

In the end, he relented.

After the wedding, Ronan played the part of a husband. At first, he was distant, his care clinical and detached. But over time, he began picking out gifts for me on holidays. Our long, uneasy silences slowly transformed into nights spent talking until dawn.

Just as I thought things were finally turning a corner, his mother, Madre Moira Gallagher, desperate for an heir, orchestrated a weekend where we were locked away together at the country villa.

That night, I conceived our child. But Ronan was convinced I had manipulated him, and from that moment on, he grew cold and distant.

A few days ago, I had woken to a miracle. The world had returned to me in a rush of shapes, light, and color.

Overjoyed, I rushed to the hospital.

The doctor confirmed it: my sight had likely returned due to a surge in pregnancy hormones. I couldn't wait to tell Ronan.

But when I returned to the manor, my heart full of hope, I found Viola sitting on our sofa.

Ronan was beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders, his voice a low, tender murmur. "Drink slowly."

He had never spoken to me with such tenderness.

It had only been five days, but it was as if the blind wife he'd left behind was a distant memory. Viola had already reclaimed his heart.

"Are you tired from the interview?"

"Just a little," Viola murmured, leaning against his chest. "I'm not used to sitting for so long."

I stood in the middle of the grand foyer, an invisible ghost in my own home.

Noticing a scent from the kitchen, Ronan asked, "Fiona, what's that simmering?"

"It's a restorative broth Madre Moira sent over. She said it was for Miss Cora's health," the housekeeper, Fiona O'Malley, replied.

"Bring it to Viola," Ronan commanded.

"But Madre Moira specifically prepared it for Miss Cora. There's only one portion!" Fiona protested.

"I said, give it to Viola. Are you deaf? She's weak, and the baby is small. She needs the nutrients."

He shot a cold glance in my direction. "Cora barely eats anyway and just lets it go to waste. From now on, anything my mother sends goes directly to Viola."

My body trembled, my fists clenching at my sides.

I could barely keep anything down. Since the start of my pregnancy, relentless morning sickness had me wasting away. While other women gained weight, I had lost nearly five pounds.

Moira had noticed and sent the broth out of concern. But in Ronan's eyes, I was just letting it go to waste.

"I don't think this is right, Ronan. After all, Madre Moira sent it for Cora," Viola said, her voice a study in false sweetness.

Ronan squeezed her hand reassuringly, his voice softening. "It's fine. You'll be my mother's daughter-in-law soon enough. What is there to be afraid of?"

"Besides..." he lifted his head, his gaze flicking toward me, "Cora won't mind."

"Thank you, Ronan. You're always so good to me," Viola cooed, tilting her face to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

They thought I was an audience of one, blind to their performance. But I saw everything.

"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "I don't mind. Please, help yourself, Miss Ricci."

I averted my gaze and started for the stairs. I had only taken a few steps when Viola's voice, sharp and calculating, followed me.

"So, when are you going to have Cora sign the dock transfer agreement?"

"Soon. Don't worry," Ronan promised. "I'll get her signature. I swear, I'll make things right by you."

I froze, my hand on the banister. My heart hammered against my ribs, the pain a sharp, physical sting. I had placed my entire heart in his hands, only for him to crush it for another woman.

The chasm of my disappointment in him was bottomless.