The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride

Chapter 4: The Humiliation Clause

The morning sunlight flooded into the marble-floored dining room as if it belonged there.

Aria didn't.

She sat at the long table, quietly stirring her coffee. Leon was where he always sat, at the head of the table, reading the financial section of the paper as if nothing in the world could reach him.

But today, something was different.

He had circled a headline.

> *"Backup Bride: Is Leon Valen's Marriage Built on a Lie?"*

Her chest clenched.

The article had gone viral overnight. It was full of speculation, grainy paparazzi photos, and quotes from anonymous sources suggesting that the woman he married wasn't the "original" Greystone daughter.

Aria knew who leaked it.

There was only one person with that kind of venom and public influence.

**Lysandra.**

She looked up. "Are you going to respond?"

Leon didn't glance at her. "No."

"But the article—"

"It'll die by tomorrow. These things always do."

"No, they don't," she said quietly. "Not for women like me."

His eyes finally met hers. They were cold and distant.

"You agreed to this life, Aria. Don't complain when it gets tough."

"I didn't agree to being *humiliated.*"

"No," he said. "You agreed to be my wife. And this is part of it."

She stared at him, her heart racing. "Do you feel nothing? I'm being torn apart online. Strangers are calling me a fraud, a whore. They say I seduced you — replaced my sister just to trap you."

"You didn't trap me," Leon said calmly. "I let it happen."

He spoke as if he had already accepted her as a result of someone else's betrayal.

That hurt more than any headline.

By noon, the backlash erupted.

Every social media platform was buzzing. Photos of her beside Leon, edited clips of her falling at the gala, old college pictures, and even blurry images of her family leaving a law firm yesterday flooded the feeds.

They had gone to silence the press. But it only made things worse.

Aria's phone vibrated non-stop.

Unknown Number: *You'll never be Selena. He'll never love you.*

Private DM: *Leon looks disgusted in every photo. What did you do? Drug him?*

Comment:*Why is the sister acting like a victim? She clearly plotted this.*

She tossed the phone onto the bed, shaking.

Her hands wouldn't stop trembling.

Tears stung her eyes.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

She had given up her name, her comfort, her *self*—for what? To be treated like a stand-in? A placeholder with no voice?

The breaking point came that evening.

Leon had scheduled a public appearance — an art gallery launch with potential foreign investors. He expected her to attend, to smile, to pretend.

Aria didn't want to go. She begged him with her silence, her distant gaze, and the way her hands gripped the sides of her gown like they were all that was holding her together.

But Leon only glanced at her once as they got into the car. "Fix your posture," he muttered. "You look like you're about to collapse."

Maybe she was.

The gallery was filled with luxury and whispers.

Paintings worth more than her life savings lined the walls, but all eyes were on her.

The whispers were loud now.

"That's the sister, right?"

"I heard she was a replacement bride."

"Can you believe she married into billions by accident?"

Leon remained as stoic as ever, shaking hands, chatting in fluent French with dignitaries, sipping champagne without a hint of emotion.

But Aria felt like her skin was peeling away with every comment.

The final blow came when she stepped away from Leon's side for just a moment to catch her breath — and walked straight into Lysandra.

Of course.

"Sweetheart," Lysandra mocked, drink in hand, her tone dripping with venom. "You're still showing up to these things? I thought you'd be hiding after that article. Brave."

Aria stayed quiet.

Lysandra leaned in, lowering her voice. "Tell me, how does it feel knowing you'll always be the *shadow*? No matter how much you smile, people see right through you."

Aria turned to leave.

But Lysandra grabbed her wrist.

"You think Leon cares?" she hissed. "He's only keeping you because he's too proud to admit he made a mistake. But he's still mine, sweetheart. He always will be."

Aria yanked her arm free, her eyes fierce.

"Then why are you the one who's bitter and alone?" she whispered.

Lysandra's smile faltered.

The slap came so quickly that Aria barely registered it.

Gasps echoed around them.

Cameras clicked.

In the middle of the glittering gallery, under the crystal chandeliers, Aria's face burned from the sting — and the humiliation.

And when she looked up…

Leon was already there.

He didn't speak.

He didn't yell.

He simply stepped between them and turned to Lysandra with a look so cold it could shatter walls.

"You just made the biggest mistake of your life."

Lysandra laughed, unfazed. "Defending her? Really?"

Leon's voice was sharp. "Touch my wife again and I'll make sure your name disappears from every guest list on this continent."

Lysandra's eyes flashed—was it shock? Pain? Fear?

She turned and walked away.

Leon didn't look at Aria. Not right away.

Only when the crowd finally thinned did he turn to her.

She expected more cruelty.

Instead, she got something worse.

Indifference.

"Clean yourself up," he said coldly. "We still have people to greet."

She stared at him, stunned. "I just got *slapped.* You're not going to ask if I'm okay?"

Leon's face didn't change. "You're fine."

"I'm *not* fine!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "I've done everything you asked. I signed every clause. I played the perfect wife while you treat me like a problem you want to erase!"

Silence.

Her chest heaved as she blinked back tears. "Why do you even keep me here, Leon? Why not just annul it now?"

His jaw tightened.

She nearly thought he would shout.

Instead, he leaned in close — his voice icy. "Because I don't let people escape consequences. And you… you're a reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

"That love is poison."

Then he walked away.

Leaving her standing alone in a room full of strangers and shame.

Back at the mansion, Aria went straight to the bedroom. She locked the door, tore off the dress, and crumpled on the floor.

It wasn't about the slap.

It was the silence that followed.

The way Leon didn't flinch.

The way he looked at her like her pain didn't matter.

Her body shook with sobs she hadn't released in weeks. Not since the day she signed away her life to become someone else's puppet.

She didn't know how long she cried.

But she didn't notice him coming in.

Not until she felt the lightest touch of fabric against her cheek.

A warm hand holding a damp towel.

She froze.

Leon knelt beside her, silent.

He didn't say anything.

Just wiped the smudged makeup off her cheeks — slowly, gently — as if he was seeing the damage he had ignored all evening.

Their eyes met.

For the first time, there was no coldness.

Just something… broken.

"I'll make sure the press doesn't touch this story," he murmured.

Aria's voice was rough. "That's not the part that hurts."

He paused.

And said nothing.

Because he knew.

He was the part that hurt the most.

To be continued.....