The Unwanted Blind Wife's Sweet Comeback

The heavy mahogany door of Suite 1501 at The Mark Hotel stood slightly ajar, leaking the unmistakable sounds of raw, unbridled passion into the quiet, dimly lit corridor. Chantal Beaumont-Carlisle stood frozen, her knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white as she gripped the handle of her white cane.

Inside the suite, the woman’s moans were sharp and demanding, echoing like a feral cat in the heat of spring.

"...I can't believe Chantal still won't let you touch her," Hayleigh Ratcliff’s voice drifted out, laced with breathless mockery. "Does she think she's living in the Victorian era? She is so ridiculously prudish."

"She's stiff, boring, and completely lifeless," Kayden Cole replied, his voice thick with lust, a sound that made Chantal's stomach churn. "She could never compare to you, baby. You are absolute fire."

Hayleigh let out a sultry laugh, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the crack in the door. "Exactly. That's why marrying me is the only thing that makes sense. I’ve already got it all figured out with her. Tomorrow, at the wedding, I’ll wear the veil and walk down the aisle in her place. She’s blind anyway; she won't see a damn thing. We’ll just forge a fake marriage certificate to keep her satisfied... God, it's hilarious. She still thinks you and I are just step-siblings. She has no idea we don't share a single drop of blood."

"My grandfather’s health depends on her family's medical connections, so we have to keep her around as a pretty, blind ornament," Kayden murmured, his breathing heavy. "But enough about her. Let me take care of you first."

A sharp, ecstatic gasp from Hayleigh was followed by the unmistakable sounds of another intense round of lovemaking.

Outside the door, Chantal’s assistant, Clara Vance, was trembling with a mixture of shock and sheer, unadulterated rage. She took a step forward, her hand raising to kick the door wide open and catch the cheating bastards in the act. But before she could make a sound, Chantal reached out, her cool, steady hand wrapping around Clara’s wrist.

Chantal didn't say a word. Her beautiful, unfocused green eyes were completely devoid of tears. She simply shook her head, turned on her heel, and walked away, the white tip of her cane tapping a crisp, rhythmic beat against the polished marble floor.

Back at the Beaumont-Carlisle estate in the Hamptons, the air in the grand living room was thick with tension.

"Miss Chantal, Kayden and Hayleigh are absolute monsters!" Clara paced the floor, her voice cracking with indignation. "How could they do this behind your back? And the fake certificate? That is a criminal level of deceit!"

Clara looked at Chantal’s pale, composed face and felt a pang of deep sorrow. "The wedding is tomorrow. The invitations have been sent to every major family in New York. The press is already setting up outside the venue. What are we going to do? Should I release a statement and cancel everything?"

"No. The wedding proceeds exactly as planned," Chantal said. She sat perfectly straight on the velvet sofa, her voice a soft, chilling melody of absolute resolve. Her hands were curled into tight fists in her lap. "If he can change the bride, I can certainly change the groom."

Her mind rapidly raced through the eligible bachelors of the Cole dynasty. The family was sprawling, filled with ambitious men, but only one possessed the sheer power and ruthless reputation to truly crush Kayden.

"The eldest Cole brother," Chantal said, her voice sharpening. "Dallas Cole. What is his current schedule?"

Clara blinked, caught off guard. "Dallas? The 'Wolf of Wall Street'? He's... well, according to my sources, he's currently on a blind date at The Oak Room."

Chantal’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh?"

Meanwhile, at The Oak Room, an exclusive, members-only club in Manhattan, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.

"So, Miss Sterling," Dallas Cole drawled, leaning back against the plush leather booth. "Are you saying you'd be willing to turn a blind eye to my extracurricular activities after we're married?"

The blonde socialite sitting across from him stiffened, her practiced smile faltering. "Mr. Cole, are you implying you plan to be unfaithful?"

Dallas crossed his long legs, his tailored Tom Ford suit pulling taut across his broad, athletic frame. His stormy gray eyes were lazy, cold, and utterly indifferent. He was devastatingly handsome, but beneath that flawless exterior was a man known for his ruthless, predatory nature in both boardrooms and bedrooms.

"I was trying to be polite about it," Dallas said, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. "But if you want to be blunt, yes. You can assume exactly that."

The socialite swallowed hard, calculating her odds. "In that case, I have conditions as well."

"By all means."

"I want a fifty-million-dollar annual allowance, deposited directly into my private offshore account."

Dallas didn't even blink. "Done."

The woman’s eyes lit up with greedy triumph. "And one more thing. I’ve heard the rumors about your... past. The illegitimate son. I’m far too young to play stepmother to another woman's mistake. I want the child sent away to a boarding school in Europe. Permanently."

The temperature at the table plummeted to absolute zero. Dallas’s expression didn't change, but the air around him became lethal. The corner of his mouth twitched into a dark, terrifying smirk.

"Get out."

The socialite turned pale, scrambling out of the booth and fleeing the club as if the devil himself were chasing her.

Dallas sighed, tossing the dossier of potential brides onto the table. He looked at his assistant, Reid, who was standing a safe distance away. "Next."

"Sir, she was the last one on the list," Reid said, looking thoroughly exhausted. "Honestly, boss, at this rate, you might as well pack your bags for the Arctic."

Dallas slammed the file shut. "Fine. I'll take you with me to freeze to death."

Reid instantly zipped his lips.

Dallas rubbed the back of his neck, groaning internally. At twenty-eight, he was at the peak of his power, but his grandfather, the terrifying patriarch of the Cole family, had given him an ultimatum: find a wife and settle down within the month, or be stripped of his CEO title and exiled to manage the family's failing lithium mines in the frozen wastelands of northern Canada.

He didn't care about the cold, but he despised the idea of losing control of his empire. "Find more candidates," Dallas ordered. "I don't care if they're socialites or waitresses. As long as they have a clean background and a pulse, bring them in."

Before Reid could respond, the rhythmic tapping of a cane echoed over the soft jazz playing in the background.

A woman materialized beside their table. She was wearing a stunning, figure-hugging emerald green dress that accentuated every curve of her body. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose, sensual waves. She wore dark designer sunglasses, but the sheer confidence radiating from her was blinding.

"Hello," she said, her voice smooth and intoxicating.

Dallas paused, his hand still on the back of his neck. He looked up, his gray eyes narrowing in immediate recognition. "Dr. Beaumont-Carlisle?"

He knew exactly who she was. The blind heiress. The brilliant medical mind who had saved his grandfather's life three years ago. And, most notably, his cousin Kayden’s docile, quiet fiancée.