My Stepmother Sold Me to a “Paralyzed” Billionaire — On Our Wedding Night, One Fall Exposed the Lie That Changed Everything
My name is Aarohi Sharma, and for as long as I can remember, my life was never truly my own.
I was eight years old when my mother died.
At nine, my father remarried.
And from that day on, I learned a painful truth:
Some women don’t raise daughters — they manage assets.
My stepmother, Nandini Sharma, was elegant, sharp-tongued, and emotionally distant. She believed affection weakened people and mercy ruined families. Every lesson she taught me carried the same message, drilled into my head year after year:
“Aarohi, love is a luxury for poor women.
Marry money, and you’ll never suffer.”
Back then, I thought she was only protecting me.
I never knew she was preparing me to be sold.
The Deal
When my father’s textile business collapsed, everything fell apart at once.
Creditors called day and night.
The bank issued its final notice.
Our ancestral house in Jaipur was days away from being seized.
That was when my stepmother introduced the solution.
One evening, she placed a thin file on the dining table.
Inside was a single photograph.
A man in a wheelchair.
Handsome. Composed. Distant.
His name was Arnav Malhotra.
The only son of the Malhotra family — one of the wealthiest business dynasties in Rajasthan.
Five years earlier, he had been in a horrific car accident. Newspapers said he was paralyzed from the waist down. After that, he vanished from public view.
People whispered dark stories.
That he became cruel.
That he despised women.
That no woman stayed long after meeting him.
My stepmother didn’t care.
She looked at me calmly and said:
“If you marry Arnav Malhotra, his family will pay every rupee of your father’s debt.
The house will remain ours.
This is your duty.”
I begged my father to refuse.
He couldn’t even meet my eyes.
So I said yes.
Not because I was brave.
But because I was cornered.
A Wedding Without Joy
The wedding took place in a royal palace in Jaipur, glowing with gold lights and marigold garlands. Socialites, politicians, industrialists — all of them smiling, watching, whispering.
I wore a crimson silk saree, heavy with gold embroidery. My jewelry weighed so much it hurt my neck.
Yet nothing was heavier than the truth:
I was being married like a business transaction.
Arnav sat beside me in his wheelchair.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Impossibly calm.
He didn’t smile for the cameras.
Didn’t speak during the rituals.
Didn’t even look away when I glanced at him nervously.
His eyes were sharp — too sharp for a man people called “broken.”
It unsettled me.
The Wedding Night
The room smelled of sandalwood and jasmine.
When I entered, Arnav was already there, sitting in his wheelchair, facing the bed.
Silence pressed down on my chest.
Trying to be respectful, I whispered:
“Let me help you onto the bed.”
For the first time, his expression changed.
His jaw tightened.
“No,” he said quietly.
“I can do it.”
He tried.
And failed.
His body trembled — just slightly.
Instinct took over.
I rushed forward.
“Careful—!”
Our balance collapsed.
We fell together.
Hard.
The impact knocked the air out of me.
I landed on top of him, my face inches from his, my hands braced against his chest.
And then—
I felt it.
Not weakness.
Not helplessness.
But strength.
Muscles tense beneath my palms.
Legs that moved.
Hands that gripped my waist firmly to stop my fall.
I froze.
Slowly, Arnav exhaled… and looked at me.
There was no panic in his eyes.
Only resignation.
And something else.
Amusement.
The Shocking Truth
“So,” he said calmly,
“I suppose you know now.”
I scrambled off him, my heart pounding.
“You… you can move.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not paralyzed.”
“No.”
My mind screamed.
“Then why—?”
He adjusted himself, standing up fully in front of me.
Tall. Steady. Perfectly balanced.
“Five years ago, I lost my fiancée,” he said quietly.
“Not to death.
To greed.”
He told me everything.
The accident had injured him — but he recovered after a year.
When his family announced his condition publicly, women suddenly vanished.
Only one type remained.
Women willing to marry a “disabled” man for money.
So Arnav made a decision.
He would never marry a woman who wanted his wealth but pitied his body.
He pretended to be paralyzed.
And watched who stayed.
The Twist
I expected anger.
Instead, he said something that shattered me:
“You were the first bride who didn’t look at me with disgust… or hunger.
You looked at me like someone who had no choice.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I didn’t marry you for money,” I whispered.
“I married you to save my father.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
Then he added softly:
“That’s why the contract ends tomorrow.
You’re free.”
The Ending No One Expected
The next morning, the Malhotra family announced the truth.
The marriage was dissolved quietly.
My stepmother lost everything — the money, the house, her reputation.
My father, ashamed, finally chose me over pride.
As for Arnav…
Months later, I received a letter.
No apology.
No explanation.
Just one line:
“This time, I want a woman who chooses me —
not because she must, but because she wants to.”
I smiled through my tears.
Because this time…
So did I.