Forced to Marry a "Blind" Billionaire, I Took Back Everything They Stole

"I won't marry that blind bastard!"

Chloe Bennett's shrill voice pierced the heavy oak door of the executive office.

My hands froze on the cold metal rims of my wheelchair. I sat in the quiet hallway, staring at the brass nameplate that read Richard Carter, CEO.

"Dad, how could you even consider making me marry someone like that?" Chloe sobbed, her voice echoing through the wood. "He is a freak. I would rather die."

I pushed the door open just a crack.

Inside, Richard stood behind his massive mahogany desk, rubbing his temples. Chloe sat on the leather sofa, burying her face in a crumpled tissue.

"Don't cry, Chloe," Richard coaxed. He walked around the desk and patted her shoulder. "Your mother and I wouldn't let you marry him. You are our precious girl."

Chloe sniffled, peeking up at him. "Then why did the Ashford family send a proposal?"

"Because this alliance is essential for our family," Richard explained, his tone laced with a fatherly warmth he never bothered to use with me. "The Ashford family has royal blood. Even if Adrian Ashford is an illegitimate son, his status remains untouchable. We need their backing."

"But I don't want him," she whined.

"And you won't have to," Richard said. "We already found a solution for you."

I shoved the office door wide open.

The heavy wood slammed against the wall with a loud bang. Both of them jumped, their heads snapping in my direction.

"So," I said, rolling my chair forward over the plush carpet. "You called me here to fulfill the marriage for your illegitimate daughter?"

Chloe dropped her tissue. Her tear-streaked face instantly twisted into a vicious scowl. She shot up from the sofa, pointing a manicured finger at me.

"Shut up!" Chloe shouted. "You are the one who should get out of this office."

I ignored her, keeping my eyes fixed entirely on Richard. He adjusted his tie, his gaze shifting to the window.

"Did you really think I wouldn't hear?" I asked him. "Or did you plan to just spring this on me after you signed the papers?"

"Evelyn, lower your voice," Richard muttered.

"My mom is Richard Carter's wife now," Chloe spat, taking a step closer to my chair. "She is the lady of this house. And your mom is just a box of ashes buried in the ground."

My jaw tightened. My fingers gripped the armrests until my knuckles turned white.

"Watch your mouth, Chloe," I warned, my voice dropping low.

"Why should I?" she mocked, crossing her arms. "You act like you own this place. You are nothing but a cripple taking up space in my father's house."

Without another word, I grabbed the wheels of my chair and spun it around toward the exit. I had no interest in listening to another syllable from either of them.

"Enough, stop talking nonsense," Richard snapped at Chloe.

He hurried across the room, stepping directly into my path before I could reach the hallway. He grabbed the back of my wheelchair, locking it in place.

"Evelyn, wait," he commanded.

I stopped, glaring at his polished leather shoes. "Move."

"You heard what we said," Richard continued, his voice hardening into his usual corporate bark. "Our family needs this marriage. The Ashford deal is the only thing keeping us afloat."

"Then let your precious Chloe marry him," I replied.

"You know she can't," Richard argued. "Adrian Ashford requires a wife from the main bloodline. Carter Holdings was left by your mother, Margaret Carter. You don't want her legacy ruined, right?"

I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze.

"You know perfectly well that is my mother's company," I said, enunciating every word. "You ran it into the ground. Why should I sacrifice myself for your mistakes?"

"Because you carry the Carter name," he insisted. "You owe this family."

Chloe let out a sharp, mocking laugh from across the room. She walked over, stopping right beside Richard, looking me up and down with absolute disgust.

"Disabled people should be with disabled people," Chloe sneered. A cruel smile stretched across her face. "You can be his eyes, and he can be your legs. How romantic."

My gaze shifted from Richard to Chloe.

My fingers found the cold, smooth ceramic of the antique vase resting on the display table next to my chair. It was one of Richard's prized possessions.

I picked it up.

Before either of them could react, I hurled it straight down onto the floor.

The vase exploded against the hardwood. Shards of painted ceramic and murky flower water sprayed across the room, scattering across Richard's shoes.

Chloe shrieked, jumping backward as a jagged piece skidded against her ankle.

"Are you crazy?!" she screamed, clutching her leg.

I locked eyes with her. "Say one more word, and I do not mind making you just like me."

Chloe pressed her back against the wall, her mouth opening and closing in shock. She looked at the broken glass, then back at me, terror finally replacing her arrogance.

"Enough!" Richard roared.

He marched over, his face flushed red, crunching over the broken ceramic. He stopped inches from my wheelchair, towering over me with clenched fists.

"You have no choice, Evelyn," he said, his tone icy and absolute.

"I always have a choice," I shot back.

"Not this time." Richard leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of my chair, trapping me. "This marriage will bring immense benefits to the company. If we don't secure this cooperation with the Ashfords, Carter Holdings goes bankrupt by the end of the month."

I maintained my stare, refusing to blink, refusing to let him see even a fraction of intimidation.

"And if that happens," Richard added, his voice dropping into a sinister whisper, "your mother's expensive cemetery maintenance fees will be the first expense we cut."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the office.

My nails dug into my palms, the sharp pain grounding me. I searched his face for any trace of a bluff, any sliver of the father I once thought I had.

He shifted his weight. His eyes darted to the side, unable to hold my stare.

He meant it. He would dig up my mother's ashes and toss them into the street just to save his own skin.

I loosened my grip on the armrests. The tension bled out of my shoulders, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. They wanted to use me as a pawn. They thought my broken legs made me weak.

I looked at the scattered pieces of the broken vase, then back up at Richard.

"Fine," I said softly, nodding once as I pulled a silver voice recorder from my jacket pocket and pressed the save button. "I hope you won't regret today's decision."