A Marriage Built on Debt
My name is Lila Carter, and I’m twenty-four years old.
My mother has always been a woman of cold, logical thinking.
She used to tell me,
I always thought she was exaggerating, just trying to protect me from disappointment.
Until the day she forced me to marry a man in a wheelchair.
His name was Ethan Blackwell — the only son of one of the richest families in Seattle, Washington.
Five years earlier, he’d been in a terrible car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down — or at least, that’s what everyone believed.
Rumors said he’d turned bitter and distant.
But when my late father’s business debts became unbearable, my mother begged me to agree to the marriage.
“Lila,” she cried, “if you marry Ethan, they’ll forgive the debt. Otherwise, we’ll lose our home. Please, honey…”
I bit my lip and nodded.
I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t let my mother lose everything.
The Wedding Without Love
The ceremony was grand but hollow.
I wore a white gown, smiled for the cameras, and tried to silence the ache in my chest.
Ethan sat motionless in his wheelchair, his handsome face unreadable, eyes distant and calm.
That night, I entered our bedroom quietly.
He was still by the window, the golden lamplight tracing soft shadows over his features.
He gave me a quick glance and replied,
But when he moved, the chair tilted slightly.
Instinctively, I rushed forward.
In that moment, we both lost balance.
I fell forward, landing over him—our hands tangled, our faces inches apart.
The Secret Under the Moonlight
That’s when I felt it — his legs.
They weren’t weak or lifeless.
They moved. They tensed. Strong and alive.
I froze, my heart pounding.
Ethan’s face stayed calm.
He gave a short, bitter laugh.
I stood there, speechless.
Then he added, his tone sharp again,
His words hit like a knife.
I didn’t know whether to hate him or myself.
He turned away and said nothing more that night.
I sat on the edge of the bed until dawn, silent tears slipping down my cheeks.
Living with Secrets
The next morning, Ethan had one of the servants wheel him outside.
As he passed, I whispered,
He paused for a moment, then left.
From then on, the mansion felt like a glass cage.
Ethan rarely spoke. He worked long hours and locked himself in his study each night.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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