Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: Now Shine

My mother was dying, her last wish to see the man I'd secretly married three years ago. But as I frantically called his phone, which went straight to voicemail, he was busy marrying my childhood rival in a lavish ceremony right outside the hospital.

He publicly denied knowing me, his wife of three years, the secret benefactor who built his entire tech empire from the ground up.

To humiliate me further, he allowed his new bride to broadcast a video of my deepest, most private trauma to all their wedding guests, dismissing my pain as "gossip."

My mother died heartbroken from his betrayal.

But they made a fatal mistake. They thought I was just a poor, pathetic wife they could discard.

They didn't know I was the anonymous, globally feared tech mogul they'd been trying to impress all along. And I just gave my second-in-command a single order: "Burn it all down."

Chapter 1

Emma Hardy POV:

My mother was dying, her last wish to meet the man I' d secretly married three years ago. But his phone went straight to voicemail, just as Aisha Anthony, my childhood rival, smirked and pointed to the private helicopter landing nearby. "That' s for my sister, Galilea's, wedding," she gloated, "to a tech mogul. Looks like your 'rich husband' isn't coming for you after all."

For three long years, I' d been Bryce Moses' s wife. My existence was a secret. His family? They didn't know me. His public circle? Invisible. Every attempt I made to introduce him to my mother, to let her see the man who supposedly made me happy, was met with a last-minute "work emergency." He always had a reason, a crucial meeting, a sudden flight.

It was a pattern. A cruel, repetitive dance where I was always left waiting.

Now, my mother lay frail in the hospital bed, her breath shallow. Her eyes, usually so bright, held a desperate plea. "Emma," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "My dear girl. I just want... to meet him. Your husband. Before I go."

A cold dread seeped into my bones. This was it. The final, heartbreaking request.

I scrambled, my fingers fumbling with my phone. Bryce. I had to reach Bryce. He had to be here. This was non-negotiable.

I called once. Straight to voicemail.

I called twice. Voicemail again.

A third time. The same.

My frantic calls went unanswered, swallowed by the silence on the other end.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape. I stood by my mother's bedside, tears streaming down my face. My helpless gaze swept over the sterile hospital room, then out the window.

That's when I saw her. Aisha Anthony. Leaning against her luxury car, a venomous smile painted on her face. Her eyes, sharp and predatory, locked onto mine.

"Well, well, well," Aisha drawled, sauntering closer. Her voice, usually grating, was now laced with an extra layer of mockery. "Look who it is. Still clinging to that old illusion, Emma?"

I flinched, but said nothing. My mother' s frail hand squeezed mine. My focus was on her, not this petty rivalry.

"What's wrong, Emma?" Aisha pressed, her voice dripping with false concern. "No handsome husband rushing to your side? Oh, wait. That' s probably because he doesn' t exist, does he?" A cruel laugh escaped her lips.

My blood ran cold. She always knew how to hit where it hurt.

"You really think you can bag a tech mogul?" Aisha scoffed, gesturing dismissively towards the hospital. "Honey, Galilea, my sister, is the one marrying into wealth. An extravagant wedding, today! To a real tech mogul. Not some imaginary fantasy you cook up."

She paused, letting the words hang in the air, twisting them into daggers. "Galilea's wedding party is going to be the talk of the town. A private helicopter, no less. Not like your little hospital drama."

My stomach churned. The humiliation burned, a hot flush spreading across my face. I gripped my mother's hand tighter, forcing myself to swallow the bitter bile.

A thunderous roar ripped through the sky, growing louder by the second. A shadow fell over the hospital grounds. My head snapped up, my gaze glued to the sky.

A sleek, black private helicopter descended, its blades churning the air into a violent vortex. It was Bryce's. I knew it. The custom paint, the insignia – it was unmistakably his.

My heart leaped, a flicker of desperate hope igniting within me. He was coming. He had to be. He was rushing to my mother's side, just as I' d prayed. He did care.

Tears, hot and sudden, welled in my eyes. A wave of relief, so profound it almost buckled my knees, washed over me. He wasn't ignoring me. He wasn' t abandoning my mother. He was here.

Aisha, however, was practically vibrating with excitement. Her eyes, wide and triumphant, fixed on the helicopter. She bounced on the balls of her feet, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

"Oh my god, he's here!" she shrieked, pointing wildly. "Galilea' s husband! The tech mogul! He' s here for the wedding!"

My breath hitched. The words, like a punch to the gut, stole the air from my lungs. The ground beneath me seemed to tilt.

"He's here for Galilea," Aisha repeated, her voice a triumphant roar. "Not you, Emma. Never you. Did you really think Bryce Moses would come for you? You're nothing to him!"

My mind reeled, trying to process her words, trying to make sense of the impossible. Bryce. Galilea. Wedding. It couldn't be. It was a sick joke.

But the helicopter landed, doors sliding open with a hiss. And there he was. Bryce. Dressed in a pristine white tuxedo, a radiant smile on his face. He extended his hand, not to me, not to my dying mother, but to Galilea, who emerged from the crowd, glowing in an elaborate wedding gown.

My world shattered. The man I loved, the man I' d secretly married, was marrying someone else. Right outside the hospital where my mother lay dying.

He looked at me for a split second, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before his face went blank. He pretended not to know me. A stranger.

My vision blurred. A choked sob escaped my lips, but it was lost in the roar of the helicopter and the excited chatter of the wedding guests. My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest, piece by agonizing piece.

My hand, trembling uncontrollably, reached for my phone. There was only one thing left to do.