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My Billionaire Fiancé's Hidden Wife

My Billionaire Fiancé's Hidden Wife

My fiancé, Knox, was the man I’d spent ten years building a life with, the one I’d poured my family’s fortune into. But then I found the lockbox. Inside, a photo of him smiling, his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, marked: *To my only wife Deana.* I’d been looking for a charger in our Boston penthouse closet when I stumbled upon it. The faded Polaroid showed Knox, younger, beaming, with a heavily pregnant stranger. Its timestamp: "Ten years ago"—the exact year I funded his Ivy League PhD. Flipping the photo, I saw Knox’s familiar handwriting: *To my only wife Deana and our upcoming miracle.* My world crumbled. The man I’d loved had a wife, making me the unwitting mistress. My opulent life was built on his lies. His text, "Baby, I'm coming home to *our house*," twisted into a cruel joke. My tears froze. A decade of sacrifices, of family alienation—all for a man who used my money and trust—shredded in my mind. The fragile woman in me vanished; my eyes turned cold and clear. I relocked the box, smoothed the rug, and applied crimson lipstick. Practicing a flawless smile, I whispered, "Welcome home, my sweet liar."
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Chapter 4

Harper Morris POV: Three days later, I was back in the Boston penthouse. I stood at the marble kitchen island, slicing a piece of premium Wagyu beef with a heavy chef's knife. The blade slid effortlessly through the meat, leaving streaks of red blood on the white cutting board. My phone, resting near the sink, suddenly vibrated. The caller ID flashed on the screen. *Martha.* Knox's mother. My hand stopped mid-chop. A wave of pure, visceral disgust rolled through my stomach. *Her shrill, demanding voice always reminded me of my greedy aunts, screeching and clawing at each other over my grandfather's estate while his body was barely cold.* I set the knife down and wiped the blood off my hands with a towel. I tapped the speakerphone button. "Aunt Martha," I said, my voice dripping with practiced, sugary warmth. "Harper," Martha barked loudly through the speaker. "The winter here is getting unbearable. My old mink coat is practically shedding. I can't be seen wearing this garbage to the country club." I smiled at the kitchen cabinets. I didn't offer to buy her a new one. I just hummed sympathetically. "That's terrible, Aunt Martha. You should stay indoors where it's warm." There was a frustrated huff on the other end. Realizing her subtle begging wasn't working, she dropped the act. "Listen," Martha snapped. "Knox's cousin wants to open an auto repair shop in New York. He needs startup capital. Have your trust fund wire five hundred thousand dollars to my account. Just write it off as a research sponsorship for Knox. You people do that all the time." I stared at the blood pooling on the marble counter. "Five hundred thousand is a very large sum, Aunt Martha," I said softly. "A transfer that size requires a formal review from the trust's board of directors." "Oh, stop making excuses!" Martha's voice spiked into a shrill yell. "You are so ignorant about how the world works! Knox is going to be a fully tenured professor at MIT! He is going to be a famous scientist! Five hundred thousand is pocket change for the prestige he brings you!" I didn't lose my temper. Instead, I fed her ego. "You're absolutely right. Knox is brilliant. His future is limitless." Then, I slid the verbal knife in. "Which is exactly why we have to be careful. If the IRS audits a sudden half-million-dollar 'research' transfer to his mother, it could trigger a federal investigation. It would instantly ruin his tenure review." Martha choked on her words. The line went dead silent for three seconds. "We... we are family! How could it be illegal?" she stammered, panicking. I smiled silently at the ceiling. "Don't worry," I soothed. "I'll figure out a way to bypass the trust and use a personal account. It just might take a few hours." "Good. Do it quickly," Martha ordered, her arrogance returning instantly. She hung up without saying goodbye. I picked up a Clorox wipe and scrubbed the screen of my phone until it was spotless. I walked over to the dining table and opened my encrypted laptop. I bypassed my family's domestic accounts and logged directly into my private Swiss offshore portal. I didn't send the money to Martha's personal bank. Instead, I wired exactly $500,000 into a joint credit account that Knox and I shared. In the mandatory wire transfer memo line, I typed in all caps: *RESEARCH EQUIPMENT PROCUREMENT.* As soon as the transfer cleared, I opened a secondary terminal and activated a hidden financial tracking script I had purchased on the Dark Web. I locked it onto the routing numbers of that joint account. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. Knox. "Harper!" His voice was breathless, vibrating with excitement. "I just saw the account alert. You are incredible." "Did your mother call you?" I asked, keeping my tone perfectly innocent. "I know she was worried about some family expenses." "My mother? No, no," Knox lied smoothly, without missing a single beat. "This is exactly what the lab needed. I'm ordering the new spectrometer right now." I listened to the absolute ease with which he lied to my face. "Don't work too late, darling. Make sure you get some rest." I hung up the phone. I turned my eyes back to the laptop screen. The tracking script was flashing red. The $500,000 had sat in the joint account for exactly four minutes before Knox moved it. He split the money into three separate wires. One wire of $150,000 went to Martha's checking account. One wire of $250,000 went to a local Boston shell company. But it was the final wire that made my blood run cold. One hundred thousand dollars was routed into a high-risk margin account belonging to a firm called *Vance Capital*. I stared at the name. Vance Capital. The most aggressive, cutthroat venture capital firm in Silicon Valley. Knox wasn't just stealing my money to fund his family. He was using my money to play a highly illegal, leveraged game in the shadows. I walked back to the kitchen island. I picked up the cutting board and dumped the expensive Wagyu steak straight into the garbage can. I poured myself a glass of ice water and drank it down, letting the freezing liquid ground me. Knox had just handed me the rope to hang him with. "Be as greedy as you want. For every penny you swallow, I'll make you vomit blood."

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