Roman Her Accidental Billionaire Husband chapitre Chapitre 3


“How does this look?” my fiancée asked, twirling around for me to get a good look at the wedding dress she was considering.

“It looks nice, but try this one,” I suggested, handing her an off-shoulder white gown with cute flowery designs. “It will look perfect on you,” I added, smiling. She took it from me and disappeared into the dressing room.

We were trying out wedding dresses. My fiancée insisted on buying her dress just two days before the wedding for reasons best known to her.

“You look breathtaking,” I gushed as she emerged from the dressing room.

“Yeah, I think so too. Let’s buy this one,” she said, sounding somewhat nonchalant. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, or was I overthinking things? She headed back to the dressing room and reappeared with her original dress.

“I need to use the restroom,” she declared, clutching her ringing phone and rushing off without waiting for my response.

I sank into a seat behind me. Zara was acting strangely, but I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. Just then, the boutique’s entrance door swung open, and a stunning lady with jet-black hair entered—cute yet fierce, a mesmerizing beauty.

‘Continue staring at her until Zara catches you,’ my mind teased.

‘What? I was only appreciating God’s gift. It’s not like I’m instantly crushing on her,’ I defended myself, caught between curiosity and distraction.

The lady stood in a corner, seemingly waiting for someone. Moments later, a pot-bellied man, much older than her, strolled over and planted a kiss on her lips, prompting a smile before they entwined arms. Instantly, a wave of disgust washed over me. How did such a young and attractive woman end up with such an old man? ‘She’s probably his call girl,’ my mind cynically suggested. ‘The things people do for money,’ I mused inwardly.

As the man headed towards the restroom after muttering something to her, the young lady strolled over and took a seat beside me. Uninterested, I kept my gaze fixed on the restroom, only to notice my fiancée, Zara, shooting murderous glares in this young lady’s direction. Before I could say a word, Zara stormed toward the lady, unleashing her anger.

“You gold-digging bitch, don’t you have any dignity left in you?” Zara confronted the lady, seething with fury.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” the lady innocently inquired.

“Stay away from my uncle, you whore. If you need money, there are plenty of brothels for cunts like you. Why cling to my uncle?” Zara lashed out in anger.

Stunned, I stood from my seat, observing the unfolding drama. Initially, I thought of intervening and pulling Zara away, but the mention of “uncle” by my fiancée made me pause. Zara had never spoken about her family since we started dating, claiming no recollection of them. The sudden reference to an uncle fueled my curiosity.


The lady slapped Zara, quickly responding, “If you’re seeking attention, you can put up a strip show here. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut, or I’ll do that for you,” she warned defiantly, leaving an uneasy silence hanging in the air.

Zara looked in my direction with moistened eyes. She looked like she could burst into tears soon, and my heart winced at the sight. I couldn’t stand seeing her so upset. I approached them; concern etched on my face.

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