His Unwanted Wife, Now Unreachable Queen

Bailey, an invisible shadow to the powerful Douglas family, stood in the freezing rain, watching City Hall. For five long years, she’d been used to being forgotten. But today, her entire world shattered as her fiancé, Jameson, walked out with another woman, Haleigh, holding their fresh marriage certificates. Jameson scooped Haleigh into his arms, treating her like fragile glass, convinced she’d saved him from a burning car five years ago. He never knew it was Bailey who pulled him from the flames, nor that Haleigh's "sickness" had left Bailey with an ugly scar from donating bone marrow, making her a mere family blood bank. Watching them kiss, pure nausea rose from years of blame. Bailey later found a joyous celebration for Haleigh at the manor. Her wet arrival drew only cold annoyance; Jameson gave pitying instructions before all four men rushed to Haleigh’s side when she faked a cough. Haleigh, with a sweet smile, presented Bailey a "gift"—a velvet box. Forced to open it, a venomous Brown Recluse spider dropped onto Bailey's hand, sinking its fangs deep. As white-hot agony exploded and her vision blurred, Haleigh theatrically screamed, deliberately scraping her forehead. The men, blind with panic for Haleigh’s minor scratch, roared at Bailey, shoved her to the floor, and rushed Haleigh to the car. Left to die alone, struggling for breath as her body shut down, Bailey knew this was the end of playing their disgusting game. She had already activated her hidden trust fund, planning to buy a remote island and disappear forever. Chapter 1 Bailey Douglas POV: I stood on the corner across from City Hall. There was no awning. No shelter. The freezing autumn rain slammed into my thin trench coat, soaking straight through to my skin, but I didn't move. I kept my eyes locked on the revolving glass doors across the street. I was used to being forgotten. For five years, the Douglas family had left me standing in the cold, waiting outside while they lived their lives. The heavy glass doors pushed open. Jameson stepped out first. He wore a custom black suit that seemed to absorb the gray light of the storm. In his hand, he held two crisp, red marriage certificates. My breath stopped. My lungs seized in my chest. My fingernails dug into my palms so hard the skin broke, but I couldn't feel the pain. I just felt a hollow, echoing emptiness. Haleigh followed him out. She wore a pure white lace dress that fluttered in the wind. She swayed, letting out a soft gasp as she pretended to lose her balance. Her white high heel stepped directly into a puddle. Jameson dropped his expensive umbrella instantly. He didn't even look at it. He scooped Haleigh up into his arms, lifting her out of the water. His face was tight with panic and fierce, desperate protection. He held her like she was his entire world. He held her like she was the woman who had dragged him out of a burning car five years ago. He didn't know it was me. He thought it was her. I watched him hold her against his chest. My hand drifted to my right side, pressing against my wet clothes. Beneath the fabric was an ugly, jagged scar. The place where they had cut into me to harvest bone marrow for Haleigh when she was "sick." I was her blood bank. I was her shadow. A taxi sped past me on the road. A wave of dirty street water splashed half a meter high, crashing directly into my calves and ruining my shoes. I shivered violently. The icy water bit into my bones. But I didn't blink. I couldn't look away from the couple across the street. Haleigh laughed in his arms. She looked up, her face glowing, and kissed his jaw. Jameson didn't pull away. He didn't hesitate. He lowered his head and deepened the kiss. In the gray, miserable rain, they looked like a perfect romance. My stomach violently twisted. Bile rose in the back of my throat. Five years of waiting, of bleeding, of taking the blame, turned into pure, physical nausea. I took a step back. My shoulder blade hit the metal pole of a street sign with a dull, heavy thud. Across the street, Jameson's head snapped up. He frowned, his eyes scanning the street through the rain. I moved on pure instinct. I threw myself behind a massive advertising billboard. My back hit the freezing metal panel. I held my breath, pressing my hand over my mouth. I was used to hiding. In the Douglas house, I was the dirty secret kept in the dark. I peeked around the edge of the metal frame. Jameson's gaze swept over the empty corner where I had just been standing. He only saw a broken, abandoned umbrella sitting in a puddle. Haleigh touched his face, whispering something to him. Jameson pulled his gaze away from the street. He looked back at her, his eyes softening instantly. He carried her toward the black Maybach waiting at the curb. The driver opened the door. Jameson placed her inside the backseat with extreme care, like she was made of fragile glass. The heavy car door slammed shut. I stepped out from behind the billboard. I watched the red taillights bleed into the rain as the car drove away. A gust of freezing wind hit my wet face. A laugh tore out of my throat. It sounded broken. It sounded completely, terrifyingly clear. I reached into my wet pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen was cracked. The rain made the touch sensor glitch under my fingers. I grabbed the hem of my shirt, wiping the glass dry with a rough motion. My thumb opened the contacts. I stared at Jameson's name, pinned at the very top of my list. I swiped left. I hit the red delete button. I didn't hesitate. I didn't cry. Then, I typed a string of complex code into the search bar. The system bypassed my regular contacts and pulled up a hidden, encrypted name: Abernathy. I pressed call. It rang exactly once. An old, strict voice answered. "Code." I gave him the verification string. I heard his breath catch in surprise on the other end of the line. I stared at the muddy water pooling around my feet. "Activate my mother's secret trust fund," I said. My voice was hoarse, but it didn't shake. "Ms. Douglas," Abernathy warned, his tone grave. "Liquidating the assets right now will incur a thirty percent penalty in losses." "I don't care," I ordered. "Do it. And I want to buy a private island in the Pacific. The most remote one you can find." I hung up the phone. I shoved it back into my pocket. I turned my back on the street where the Maybach had disappeared, and started walking into the rain. "Five years. I finally don't have to play this disgusting part anymore."