I Designed His Dream House, He Built a Secret Family
I was in a high-end mall, browsing a toy store for my friend's daughter's birthday, when my world tilted on its axis. Through the polished glass storefront, I saw him. My husband, Julian. He was in the café opposite, seated beside the sprawling indoor children's play area. He wasn't alone.
A woman, Seraphina Vance—a social media influencer whose perfectly curated life I’d occasionally scrolled past—was laughing, her head tilted just so. And between them, a little boy of about four, gleefully mashing a piece of cake into his own dark hair. Julian’s hair.
They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family.
An icy dread washed over me. I remembered Julian refusing to have a baby with me, citing the immense pressure of his work. All his business trips, the late nights… were they spent with them? I recalled a night six months ago when Noah had supposedly been sick. Julian had stayed out all night, his voice strained over the phone, telling me a "critical client had a medical emergency." The lie was so easy for him.
I must have stared too long. The little boy, Noah, noticed me. He picked up a toy water pistol from their table, aimed it directly at me through the café’s open front, and squeezed the trigger. A jet of cold water hit my silk skirt, leaving a dark, spreading stain.
Seraphina Vance turned, her eyes meeting mine. There was no surprise, only a flicker of amusement. She offered a saccharine smile. "Oh, dear. He's just playing with you," she cooed, her voice dripping with condescension.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned and walked away, my legs unsteady. I needed to leave, to breathe, to think. In the underground parking garage, I fumbled for my keys, my hands shaking. As I passed Julian’s sleek sedan, something on the passenger seat caught my eye. A heavy, cream-colored card with embossed lettering.
"You are joyfully invited to the Christening of Noah Thorne."
It was real. More real than a fleeting email. A physical invitation to a life I never knew existed. How could I have been so blind?
My phone felt heavy in my hand. I didn’t call my best friend. I didn’t call a lawyer. I called the director of the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him, for us.
"I'd like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."
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Chapter 6
I retreated to my mother's old villa in the countryside, a place of quiet memories, seeking refuge. But he found me. Julian showed up one night, drunk and remorseful, a familiar performance I knew all too well.
"Why are you like this, Aria?" he slurred, wrapping his arms around me. "We were so good together. What happened?"
He held up a piece of paper. It was a child's drawing. Three figures under a crudely drawn sun: a man, a woman, and a little boy. "Noah drew this for us," he said. "A real family." But the woman in the drawing had Seraphina's blonde hair.
His phone rang. He fumbled to answer it, and I heard Noah's voice, clear as a bell, before he could silence it. "Daddy, is that auntie dead yet?"
Julian paled and quickly ended the call. "Kids," he mumbled, trying to laugh it off. "They say the darndest things. Don't mind him."
He played the part of the wounded, misunderstood man until I softened, or at least pretended to. "Okay, Julian," I said, my voice suddenly calm. "We won't get a divorce."
He relaxed instantly. I led him to a guest room and tucked him into bed. As soon as he was asleep, I went through the pockets of his jacket, which he'd left on a chair. I found what I was looking for. It was a piece of folded paper from Noah’s kindergarten. The assignment was titled: "My Wish."
In messy, childish crayon, Noah had written: "I wish the auntie at daddy's house would disappear forever."
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8.1
After three years together, Cece believes her childhood sweetheart, Shane Sinclair, is finally going to propose during their romantic getaway to Aethelburg. Standing near the Iron Tower and the Serene River, she is ready to say yes. However, Shane’s affectionate words mask a devastating betrayal. Instead of asking for her hand, he casually suggests she marry his older brother—all so Shane can freely pursue Tanya Gable. Cece's dream of love instantly shatters into a cold arrangement.
9.4
Vincenzo Moretti leads a double life as a tech mogul and a ruthless mafia Don. His wife, Isabella, has endured a decade of his infidelity, but the ultimate betrayal occurs when his mistress causes a fatal accident. After Vincenzo abandons his injured wife and dying child, Isabella wakes from a coma to a shattered world. With her mother also dead, she demands her freedom from the Moretti patriarch. When a repentant Vincenzo eventually begs for her return, Isabella chooses to walk away forever.
9.7
Born under a curse that kept him silent for decades, a father is forced to witness his wife Serena's cruelty. After their daughter Jada accidentally trips her uncle Cain, Serena ruthlessly banishes the terrified girl to a dog-training facility. Despite his desperate pleas, the mute protagonist is ignored as his child is killed by rabid animals. Now, as he pieces her remains together, he finally speaks to vow a bloody revenge against the woman who destroyed their family.
9.3
For years, Chloe lived in the shadows as the hidden partner of a powerful man, accepting a life of secrecy for the sake of love. However, the fragile peace of their private world shatters when his former flame and long-lost muse suddenly reappears. Cast aside and forced to face the harsh reality of her insignificance, Chloe must navigate the heartbreak of betrayal. As he gravitates back to his past, she struggles to reclaim her identity and worth.
9.2
I brought the original drafts of the Lloyd Center to my stepsister’s high-society pool party, hoping the gift would finally earn my family's respect. I stood on the edge of the limestone patio, clutching the leather portfolio as fifty pairs of judgmental eyes watched my every move.
But the moment I handed the sketches to Corina, she retracted her hand, letting the portfolio sink into the chlorine before throwing herself into the pool with a theatrical scream.
My fiancé, Julian, didn't hesitate; he shoved me aside with enough force to twist my ankle and dove in to rescue her. He surfaced with Corina in his arms, looking at me with a mask of pure disgust while the crowd whispered that I was an unstable, illegitimate intruder. My stepmother Eugenia didn't even ask for an explanation before she stepped forward and slapped me across the face, ordering me to get out before she called the police.
"Sister, if you're still mad about the inheritance, just say it. Why did you push me?"
"Enough! God, Aria. Your jealousy is actually sickening."
I stood on shaking legs, looking at the man who had promised to know my heart for two years, only to realize he was just another wolf in the pack. The humiliation burned hotter than the sting on my face, and I realized that in their eyes, I would always be the trash they needed to take out.
I yanked the diamond ring off my finger, slammed it onto a table, and walked away from my old life forever. To claim my trust fund and survive, I walked into a dive bar and offered a marriage contract to a broke, mysterious artist named Harland. I thought I was just buying a temporary shield, but I didn't realize that my "poor" new husband was actually a billionaire predator who was already planning to burn my family's empire to the ground.
8.3
I thought my partner Brayden and I were building an empire together. He was my rock, my partner in life and business, the man who understood my ambition to save my family's restaurant.
But one night, I woke up to his laughter mixed with another, sickeningly familiar voice-my little sister, Holly. They weren't just having an affair.
I listened from the shadows as they plotted to steal my restaurant, my recipes, and my entire life's work.
They mocked my dreams of starting a family, dreams Brayden had always dismissed with me. Holly was pregnant with his child, and they planned to rebrand my legacy as their own, leaving me with nothing.
The two people I trusted most weren't just stealing my future; they were erasing my past. They saw me as a fool, too blinded by loyalty to see their betrayal.
They were right about one thing: the Clare they knew was about to disappear. But not in the way they expected. I made a call to a controversial neuroscientist, ready to undergo an experimental procedure to erase my memory, change my identity, and orchestrate their complete and utter ruin.