The Billionaire's Forsaken Wife

"He thinks I'm you?," I asked, my voice shaking.

The room suddenly felt cold. I looked at the door, half-expecting someone to burst in.

Zyran's expression turned serious. He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Security," he said sharply. "Code Red, I need four men at my wife's door right now and check the parking lot."

He hung up and turned to Mina. She was shivering, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Mina, sit down," Zyran said gently. "He won't touch her and he won't touch you."

"I'm so sorry, Zyran," Mina cried. "I didn't mean to create this trouble for your family. I should just leave. I should let him find me."

"Don't be foolish," Zyran said, but he squeezed her shoulder. "You are not going anywhere. You are family."

I stared at him, confused. "Family?"

Zyran looked at me, his eyes serious. "Roosevelt, I didn't have time to explain earlier. Mina isn't just a college friend, we grew up on the same street. She has known me since I was five."

He glanced at Mina with a protective look. "She used to play dolls with my big sister, Clara. My mother loves Mina like a daughter. If anything happened to her, my mother would never forgive me."

I felt a strange ache in my heart. I knew Zyran's mother was tough. She hardly ever smiled at me. But she loved Mina?

"I had no idea," I whispered.

"There's a lot you don't know," Zyran said, sounding weary. "But I promised my family I would always look out for her. I keep my promises."

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed from the hallway.

"Move! Get out of my way!" a woman's voice shouted.

The door swung open. A woman with bright red hair and a fierce look stormed in, she wore mismatched sneakers and a large coat.

It was Nixie, my best friend.

"Roosevelt!" Nixie yelled. Ignoring Zyran, she ran straight to my bed and grabbed my face in her hands. "I saw the news! Someone posted a picture of Zyran carrying you into the ER! Are you okay? Tell me you're okay!"

"I'm okay, Nix," I managed a weak smile. Seeing her made me feel safer. "It was just... a fall."

Nixie sighed with relief and hugged me tightly. Then she pulled back and shot an angry look at Zyran.

"You!" she said, pointing a finger at his chest. "You are supposed to protect her, Mr. Billionaire! How does she fall down the stairs on your anniversary?"

Zyran crossed his arms. "It was an accident, Nixie. Lower your voice."

Nixie's eyes narrowed, she glanced past Zyran and saw Mina sitting in the corner, looking small in her dirty dress.

"Who is this ghost?" Nixie asked bluntly.

"This is Mina," Zyran said, standing between Nixie and Mina. "She's a guest. She's having a tough time."

Nixie examined Mina. Nixie had a knack for spotting when someone was pretending, she squinted.

"Mina," Nixie asked slowly, "why are you wearing Roosevelt's robe?"

Mina flinched and looked at Zyran with big, teary eyes. "My clothes were burned. Zyran gave it to me."

"Nixie, stop it," I said softly. I didn't want a confrontation. Not now. "Mina is in danger. Her ex-boyfriend is after her."

"And now he is after Roosevelt," Zyran added grimly.

Nixie's face paled. She looked at me, then at the door. "Wait. You're telling me that because of her problems, my best friend is a target?"

"We're handling it," Zyran said. "I'm moving both of them to the Safe House tonight. No one gets in."

"The Safe House?" I asked. "But Zyran, I just want to go home."

"Home isn't safe, Roosevelt," Zyran replied firmly. "The address is public, the Safe House is the only choice."

He walked to the window and peered through the blinds. His back went tense.

"Damn it," Zyran cursed.

"What?" I asked, my heart racing.

Zyran turned. His face was serious.

"Security just radioed in," he said. "A black van just crashed through the hospital gate. Men in masks are getting out."

He looked at me, then at Mina.

"He's here."

The fear didn't last long.

Zyran's security team was impressive. Before the masked men could reach the hospital doors, five black SUVs surrounded them. We watched from the window as police cars flooded the parking lot. Mina's ex-boyfriend was handcuffed and shoved into a police car within ten minutes.

"It's over," Zyran said, closing the blinds. "He's going to jail for a long time, you are safe now."

Mina sobbed with relief, but I felt drained. I wanted to go home. Instead, Zyran took us to his Safe House-a huge, modern mansion on the edge of the city. It looked cold and fortress-like.

By the time we settled in, it was past midnight. Nixie had gone to a guest room to call her husband, leaving me alone with Zyran and Mina in the kitchen.

My ankle throbbed, and my stomach felt tight. I sat on a barstool, watching Zyran. He had removed his suit jacket and was rolling up his sleeves. He opened the fridge and pulled out some eggs and vegetables.

"I'll make something simple," Zyran said, glancing at me. "You need to eat before you take your medicine, Roosevelt."

A small warmth filled my chest. "Thank you, Zyran. You don't have to-"

"Zyran!"

Mina's shrill voice cut through the air. She entered the kitchen, wearing fresh clothes that the housekeeper had found for her. She looked at Zyran holding the frying pan and gasped, horrified.

"Why would you offer to cook, Zyran?" she said, walking over and trying to take the pan from him. "Cooking is a domestic chore, It's meant for women."

I blinked, stunned. Was she serious?

Mina didn't look at me. She focused on Zyran, speaking softly. "You see, I've had a hard day. I'm traumatized. I'm so tired I can barely move, or else I would do it. But you, you're a billionaire CEO, running a company is tough. You deserve to rest."

She finally turned her head and glared at me. Her eyes were cold, but her voice stayed sweet for Zyran's sake.

"Roosevelt should do the cooking," Mina said, pointing at me. "She seems so energetic, she was ready to fight me on the stairs earlier. That energy should be used to make us dinner. Besides, isn't she an interior designer? She's practically a domestic worker, she knows how to serve."

I was stunned. I sat there with my mouth slightly open. I had nearly lost my baby tonight. I could barely walk on my swollen ankle. And this woman wanted me to serve her?

Zyran stiffened. He set the pan down on the counter with a loud thud.

"She didn't ask me to cook, Mina," Zyran said, his voice low and firm. "I did it willingly, she is my wife, watch your words."

I felt a flicker of gratitude. At least he defended me this time.

But Mina didn't back down. She looked hurt, as if Zyran had slapped her. Tears filled her eyes.

"You've changed, Zyran," she cried. "This isn't you. What has that woman done to you?"

She stepped closer to him, ignoring me completely.

"What were you thinking when you married someone as tough and cold as Roosevelt?" Mina asked, sniffling. "She is mean and lacks sympathy. Didn't you notice how little she cared about me being homeless tonight? She wanted to send me to a hotel! She's not only mean, but inconsiderate too."

"Mina..." Zyran warned.

"I'm just telling the truth!" Mina sobbed. "For someone with a rough past, she shouldn't interfere with us. Remember how we used to be? You were never this soft, you were strong."

She reached out and placed her small hand on Zyran's chest, over his heart.

"Let me cook," she whispered. "I might be tired, but I won't let a King work in the kitchen while his capable wife sits there like a statue."

Zyran looked at her hand on his chest. Then he turned his gaze to me.

I waited for him to push her away. I waited for him to kick her out.

Instead, Zyran sighed. He gently took Mina's hand off his chest, but he didn't seem angry at her anymore. He looked conflicted.

"Go to bed, Mina," he said softly. "I will bring some food up to your room."

Mina smirked at me over Zyran's shoulder. It was a quick, victorious look before she turned back to him and nodded.

"Okay, Zyran. But only because you asked," she whispered.

She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving a heavy silence behind her.

Zyran picked up the pan again and cracked an egg into it. He didn't look at me.

"She is just stressed," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I gripped the edge of the marble counter. My knuckles turned white. He was still making excuses for her.

"Zyran," I said quietly. "We need to talk."

"Not tonight, Roosevelt," he interrupted. "I am tired. Let's just eat."

He plated the eggs and slid a plate toward me. But as I picked up my fork, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I opened it, and my blood ran cold. It was a photo of Zyran and Mina from years ago, looking very much in love.

And underneath, a message read:

He promised his mother he would take care of me. Do you really think a 'wife' can break a promise made to family? Enjoy the eggs. I'll enjoy him later.