Wedding Night Betrayal

The bridal suite door felt heavier than it should have as I pushed it open, my arms trembling from hours of supporting myself on the leg braces. Every muscle in my legs screamed in protest—phantom agony from limbs that had stopped obeying me two years ago. But I'd done it. I'd stood at that altar like a real bride, not wheeled down the aisle like damaged goods. Jasper's face when he saw me standing there had made every second of pain worth it.

Or so I'd thought.

My wedding bouquet slipped from my fingers before my brain could process what my eyes were seeing. The white roses scattered across the threshold, petals bruising against the carpet.

Jasper was in our bed. Naked. And Milani—my sister, my baby sister—was beneath him, her dark hair spread across my pillows like a stain.

The sapphire jewelry set I'd given her this morning, the one that had belonged to our grandmother, glittered on the nightstand beside them. She'd been wearing it when she'd kissed my cheek and called me the most beautiful bride she'd ever seen.

Time fractured into sharp-edged moments. Milani's startled gasp. Jasper's eyes meeting mine with something worse than guilt—irritation, as if I'd interrupted something mundane. The sheet sliding across his bare shoulders as he sat up with practiced calm, no shame, no scrambling for excuses.

I needed to move. To scream. To run. My hands found my wheelchair and I spun toward the door, but my mother's voice stopped me cold.

"Helen, don't be dramatic."

Margaret Daniels stood in the doorway with my father behind her, blocking my only exit. She looked immaculate in her mother-of-the-bride gown, not a hair out of place, as if she'd just come from a pleasant dinner rather than walking in on her son-in-law in bed with her other daughter.

My throat closed. "You... you knew?"

"Of course we knew." Mother's tone suggested I was being deliberately obtuse. She stepped into the room, and Father followed with his eyes fixed on the carpet. Always the coward. "Honestly, Helen, we need to discuss this like adults."

"Adults?" The word came out strangled. "Mother, he's—they're—"

"Providing a solution to a problem." She settled onto the velvet chair by the window as if this were afternoon tea. "Your condition makes pregnancy impossible. The doctors were very clear about that. Jasper needs an heir. The Stone family name requires—"

"Are you insane?" I gripped my wheelchair's armrests so hard my knuckles went white. "I'm his wife. We just got married. Today. Hours ago!"

Milani had the decency to pull the sheet up to her chin, but her eyes held something that made my stomach turn—triumph, carefully hidden behind false concern. "Helen, sweetie, we didn't want you to find out this way. We were going to tell you gently—"

"Gently?" The laugh that escaped me sounded like breaking glass. "You were going to gently explain that you're fucking my husband?"

"Language, Helen." Mother's voice sharpened. "This hysteria isn't helpful. The