The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride

A faint noise stirred Emma from sleep. She opened her eyes groggily and scanned the room—everything was in its place. Just as she convinced herself it was nothing and closed her eyes again—

THUD!

A loud crash shattered the silence, as if something heavy had been thrown onto the floor with full force. The sound came from Isabella's room.

Panic surged through Emma as she bolted upright, only for a sharp pain to shoot through her injured foot. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stand and hobbled toward the room, leaning against the wall for support. At that moment, she wasn't thinking about her pain—only her mother's safety.

The door to Isabella's room was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, Emma froze.

It looked like a storm had torn through the room. The bed sheets were crumpled on the floor, clothes spilled out of the closet, shattered picture frames and broken decorations lay scattered. Amidst the chaos, Isabella stood near the bed, fearfully watching the figure tearing through the drawers—Peter.

Emma instantly knew what he was looking for.

"Peter! What the hell are you doing?" she shouted.

Peter's head snapped toward her, and Emma sucked in a breath.

He was a wreck. Bloodshot eyes with dark circles beneath them, pale skin stretched over his gaunt face. His clothes were torn, his body frail. He looked less like her brother and more like a man who had been battling demons far too long.

But the moment his gaze met hers, fear flashed across his face.

"I… I need… money," Peter stammered, his voice hoarse as if he hadn't spoken in days.

Emma took a cautious step forward. "For what?" she asked gently.

Peter flinched. "Y-you'll h-hurt me," he stuttered, his voice carrying a childlike fear. He was remembering the last time she had struck him with a vase.

Emma softened her voice. "I won't, I promise." She raised a hand to reassure him, completely focused on her brother—so much so that she didn't see the glass shard on the floor until it pierced deep into her already injured foot.

"Ahh!" A strangled cry escaped her lips as she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her bleeding foot.

Isabella gasped and rushed to her side, grabbing her hand in concern.

Peter stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at the blood pooling around Emma's foot.

"Peter…" Emma called weakly.

And for the first time in years, she saw it.

The same raw concern in his eyes that he used to have when they were children, when a scraped knee was enough to make him panic.

Her vision blurred with tears. "Please, Peter… stop this. I can't see you like this anymore. Please… give me my brother back."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as her voice broke.

Peter took a step forward. "Emma…"

But before he could move any closer, the sudden entrance of a man startled him. Within seconds, Peter darted toward the window and jumped out, vanishing into the night.

A single tear slipped from his eye before he disappeared.

"Emma!" The man who had rushed in was Hanan.

"We're here, Hanan," Isabella called out, trying to keep her composure.

But Emma wasn't looking at them. She was still staring at the window, her heart heavy with an ache she couldn't describe.

Hanan took one look at the chaos in the room and strode toward Emma.

"Emma, are you okay?" He knelt in front of her.

"Hanan, her foot is bleeding," Isabella said urgently.

Hanan's gaze instantly dropped to Emma's injured foot. His jaw clenched.

His fists curled tightly, his patience thinning.

He turned Emma's face toward him. "Emma."

She blinked at him as if recognizing him for the first time.

Then, in a barely audible whisper, she pointed at the window and murmured, "Peter…"

Hanan's heart twisted painfully.

Before he could say anything, Emma—who had been barely conscious—suddenly went limp in Isabella's arms.

"Emma!"

Isabella and Hanan both shouted her name, but Emma didn't respond.

Chaos at Home

Meanwhile, at home, Hoor sat glued to her laptop, typing furiously. Beside her, Ali relaxed on the couch, leisurely munching on apples and guavas while playing a game on his phone.

Fruits that had been cut specifically for Hoor by Rukhsar Begum… yet it was Ali devouring them like a king.

"Ali!"

Ali, in the middle of stuffing his mouth with the last bite of an apple, nearly choked at the sound of his mother's voice.

"Y-yes, Mom?" He quickly composed himself, pretending he hadn't just faced a near-death experience.

Rukhsar Begum glared at him. "Those fruits were for Hoor!"

Ali licked his lips, completely unfazed. "Oh, is that a new company? 'Hoor's Guavas and Apples'—never heard of it before. Sounds like a solid brand name, though."

Rukhsar Begum clenched her fists. "You worthless child… shameless! I don't know who you take after!"

Ali dramatically dusted off his imaginary coat. "Grandpa says I look like Dad but have Mom's temperament."

Satisfied with his comeback, he sank back into the couch—only to dodge a flying slipper aimed straight at his head.

"Stand still, you monkey!"

Ali laughed and dodged again.

"Mom, you're seriously overreacting—this is just a 10-rupee issue!"

"Ten rupees?!" Rukhsar Begum picked up another shoe, this time Salman Sahib's, which had been left out earlier.

Ali gulped. "Mom… not that one… that one actually hurts!"

But it was too late. She flung it straight at him.

And just as Ali ducked, the shoe landed—right on Salman Sahib's head as he entered the house.

Silence.

Ali peeked up cautiously. Rukhsar Begum gasped, covering her mouth in horror.

Salman Sahib rubbed his head, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Then, they landed on Hoor, who had been watching the entire scene with an amused but distant look.

His expression changed.

Without another word, he turned to the man standing beside him. "Come inside."

The lounge fell into an eerie silence as the unknown figure stepped in.

For a moment, everyone was too stunned to react.

Except Hoor.

She sprang up, threw her laptop onto the sofa, and disappeared into her room, slamming the door shut.

Only then did the others snap out of their trance.

Salman Sahib led the guest to the study, while Rukhsar Begum hesitated before heading toward Hoor's room.

Ali, still rubbing his head, sighed. He already knew—his sister was crying behind that closed door.

At the Hospital

Hanan sat on the hospital bench, his head in his hands.

The moment the doctor stepped out, he shot up. "Doctor! How is she?"

The doctor gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "She's stable. She fainted due to stress and low blood pressure, but she'll be fine."

"And her foot?" Hanan pressed.

"We've cleaned and dressed the wound. The glass didn't go in too deep."

Hanan exhaled, but the anxiety gnawing at him didn't ease. He could still see Emma's pale face in his mind, and it made his chest tighten painfully.

He nodded, thanked the doctor, and hurried inside.

Isabella was already sitting beside Emma's bed.

She looked up. "What did the doctor say?"

Hanan relayed everything.

Isabella's shoulders sagged in relief.

"She'll wake up soon. I'll go get her medicines," Hanan said.

Isabella gave him a grateful look.

As he turned to leave, Hanan's eyes landed on Emma's face.

Even unconscious, she still managed to make his heart clench.

Dressed in a black jacket and matching pants, Hanan looked every bit the composed man he always was, but deep down, he was anything but calm. His jaw tightened as his gaze landed on Emma—pale, fragile, completely still.

After collecting the necessary medication, Hanan returned and helped Isabella support Emma as they slowly exited the hospital. But the moment he noticed the pain flickering across Emma's face with each step, he stopped.

Without a word, he turned to a nearby nurse. "Bring a wheelchair."

Within moments, a chair was wheeled in. Carefully, as if handling something delicate, Hanan scooped Emma up and placed her into the seat with a gentleness that did not go unnoticed.

Someone else saw it too.

Standing at a distance, unseen, a pair of eyes burned with restrained fury, watching every move Hanan made.

Unaware of the silent observer, Hanan wheeled Emma to the car. He helped Isabella settle her in before getting into the driver's seat. Instead of heading straight home, he turned the car in a different direction.

Emma's favorite restaurant.

Something told him she needed a reason to smile.

And little did she know—tonight, something was about to happen that would wipe away her sadness in an instant.

To be continued…