My Stepmother Forced Me to Marry a Wealthy but Disabled Heir — On Our Wedding Night, I Carried Him to Bed, and a Fall Revealed the Truth
The day I first arrived at Ashford Estate, the weight in my chest felt heavier than everything I had endured before. The mansion stood tall and still, its dark windows reflecting a sky thick with clouds.That morning in the car, my stepmother, Elaine Parker, had gripped my arm hard.
“Remember, Clara,” she said in a low, sharp voice. “This marriage is an opportunity. You don’t argue. You don’t ask questions. You obey.”
I nodded quietly. Since my father died, no one had ever waited for my consent.
My husband, Ethan Moore, lived alone in the vast family estate. After a serious accident no one liked to talk about, he had been confined to a wheelchair.
On the way there, servants whispered about him—once a brilliant young businessman, abandoned by his fiancée the moment his future became uncertain.
When I finally met him, there was no warmth in his greeting. He simply gestured toward the room and said calmly, “You can stay here. Live however you like. I won’t interfere.”
That night, after the staff left, the house felt hollow and cold. I sat near the doorway, unsure of my place.
“I… I can help you get settled,” I said softly.
He looked at me, his pale eyes distant.
“You don’t have to,” he replied. “I’m used to being a burden.”
“That’s not true,” I said, though my voice trembled.
I stepped closer. “Let me help you to the bed.”
He hesitated, then nodded. I wrapped my arms around him and tried to lift him—but my foot slipped against the rug. We fell hard onto the floor. Pain shot through me as I tried to rise, but I froze when I felt movement beneath the blanket.
