Reborn To The Wife of a Billionaire with Disabilities

The security team moved with practiced efficiency. Two guards unfolded the custom wheelchair and locked the brakes beside the open car door. Eileen stepped out first. Her heels clicked sharply against the cobblestone driveway. She immediately stepped back, pressing herself against the side of the car to give the guards room to work. She watched as they lifted Carlisle. His face remained an emotionless mask, but she saw the slight tightening of his jaw, the subtle humiliation of needing to be carried. They set him down gently. He adjusted his cuffs, his eyes flicking toward her for a fraction of a second. Instead of walking ahead of him-which the original Eileen always did to distance herself from the wheelchair-she stepped up to his right side. She fell into step half a pace behind the front wheels. Two maids in crisp uniforms pulled open the heavy mahogany double doors. The scent of aged pine and expensive bergamot rolled out from the foyer. The massive crystal chandelier cast a warm, golden glow over the imported marble floor. In the center of the foyer, an old man was pacing. Harrison Vinson leaned heavily on a dark wood cane topped with a silver wolf's head. His shoulders were hunched. When he heard the doors open, he spun around. His eyes locked onto Carlisle and Eileen. Then, his gaze dropped to the leather briefcase in Mr. Ainsworth's hand. Harrison's chest collapsed. The air seemed to leave his lungs all at once. He looked ten years older in a single second. The deep lines on his face sagged with profound heartbreak. He struck the marble floor with his cane. The thud echoed loudly in the cavernous space. "So," Harrison said, his voice thick with gravel and sorrow. "It has finally come to this." Carlisle frowned. He opened his mouth, preparing to state the facts coldly-that the papers were unsigned. Before he could form the first syllable, a blur of motion shot past him. Eileen practically jogged across the marble floor. She stopped inches from the old man. Her chest heaved slightly. Her eyes were wide, swimming with a raw, unfiltered guilt that made her chest ache. She reached out with both hands. She wrapped her warm fingers over Harrison's cold, wrinkled hands, covering his grip on the cane. Harrison flinched. He stared down at her hands, completely bewildered. His grandson's wife avoided him like the plague. She hated the estate. She hated the quiet. Eileen squeezed his hands. The rough texture of his skin sent a jolt of reality through her. "Grandpa," Eileen said. Her voice was clear, ringing through the silent foyer. "I am so sorry. I'm sorry I made you worry." She took a breath, her grip tightening. "But we didn't sign anything. I am never divorcing Carlisle." The words hit the room like a physical shockwave. Two maids standing by the door audibly gasped. Mr. Ainsworth dropped his briefcase an inch before catching it. Harrison's eyes widened to the size of saucers. His jaw dropped. "What did you say? Say that again." Eileen turned her head. She looked back at Carlisle sitting in his wheelchair. She flashed him a wicked, unapologetic smirk. She turned back to the old man. "I said, I'm going to stay here and annoy him for the rest of his life." Harrison's hands began to shake. He slowly turned his head, looking past Eileen to his grandson. His eyes begged for confirmation. He looked terrified that this was a cruel joke. Carlisle met his grandfather's desperate gaze. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He looked at Eileen's back, then back to the old man. Very slowly, Carlisle gave a single, stiff nod. The transformation in Harrison was explosive. Tears instantly pooled in his eyes. He yanked his hands free from Eileen's grasp and slammed his cane against the floor with all his might. "Excellent!" Harrison roared. The sorrow vanished, replaced by a booming, vibrant energy. He spun around, pointing his cane at the head butler. "Ainsworth! I want the highest tier family dinner prepared tonight! Tell the cellar master to bring up the '82 Lafite! Now!" The heavy, suffocating tension in the foyer shattered. The maids smiled in relief and hurried off to the kitchens. Eileen watched the old man's joy. The warmth of the scene hit her hard. Harrison's booming joy echoed in the foyer, a sound so full of life and unconditional love that it instantly reminded her of her own grandfather from her previous life. The thought was a brutal knife twist. A sudden, sharp pain flared in her chest. She remembered the screech of tires, the crunch of metal, the absolute silence that followed the crash in her original world. She remembered the family she would never see again. A hot tear pricked the corner of her eye. Her vision blurred. Carlisle, sitting silently in the background, saw it. He saw the genuine, devastating grief flash across her face. His fingers twitched against his armrests. Eileen blinked hard. She forced the moisture back, swallowing the lump in her throat. She turned around and gave Carlisle a brilliant, flawless smile. Harrison grabbed Eileen's forearm, pulling her toward the grand dining room. He was already rambling about the menu, asking if she wanted lobster or truffles. Carlisle watched them walk away. His eyes were dark, calculating. He pushed the joystick forward, his chair humming quietly as he followed them into the house.