My Stepmother Forced Me to Marry a Disabled Millionaire, But He Was Hiding Something Huge

He walked over to the heavy oak windows, peering through a small gap in the velvet curtains out into the dark, sprawling courtyards of the Mexican estate.

“Get up,” he ordered quietly, without looking back. “And smooth out your dress. If anyone looks through that keyhole, we need to look like we are experiencing a marriage, not an interrogation.“

I scrambled to my feet, my hands shaking so violently I could barely smooth down the rumpled silk of my bridal sari. My mind was spinning at a million miles an hour. Jaipur. Mexico. A car accident. A five-year lie.

“You… you can walk,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “The wheelchair… the rumors… it was all a lie.“

Arnav turned around, leaning casually against the window sill, crossing his arms over his chest. The contrast between his regal, intimidating posture and the wheelchair sitting empty a few feet away was staggering.

“A lie that has kept me alive for five years, Aarohi,” he said, using my name for the first time. It sounded strange on his lips—heavy, dangerous, yet strangely intimate. “Five years ago, it wasn’t an accident. My car was rigged with explosives. The world thinks I survived by a miracle but lost the use of my legs. In reality, the people who want my family’s empire out of the picture stopped looking for a dangerous heir and started ignoring a crippled invalid.“

He took two steps toward me, his footsteps completely silent. “My family’s business in Mexico isn’t just shipping and textiles, Aarohi. We control the primary supply chains across the northern border. Logistical arteries that certain dangerous organizations want to control. By playing the invalid, I became invisible. I built an international intelligence network from a wheelchair while my enemies grew complacent.“

“Then why marry me?” I cried out, keeping my voice down to a harsh whisper. “If your life is a battlefield, why bring a stranger into it? Why did you agree to this?“

A dark, cynical smile touched the corners of his lips. “Because a man in a wheelchair who suddenly demands to marry a middle-class girl from Jaipur looks weak. It looks like a desperate attempt to find a caretaker, an act of submission to his family’s wishes. It lowers my enemies’ guard even further. They think I’ve given up. They think I am retreating into domestic misery.“

He stopped just inches away from me. The scent of expensive cologne, old paper, and gunpowder washed over me. “Your stepmother didn’t just stumble upon this arrangement, Aarohi. Her ‘pragmatism’ was bought and paid for. Someone paid off your father’s debts to ensure you were the one who walked down that aisle.“

My blood ran cold. “What? Who?“

“That is what we are going to find out,” Arnav said, his eyes narrowing. “But until I know exactly whose pawn you are—whether willing or unwilling—you play your part. To the maids, to the bodyguards, to my own family, I am a broken man who needs your help to do the simplest tasks. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, including your parents, the accident from five years ago will repeat itself. Only this time, there won’t be any survivors.“