The CEO's Fake Wife And Secret Triplets
Seraphina, a broke single mother of triplets, snuck into a billionaire's charity gala just for the free food, desperate to fund her daughter's urgent heart surgery.
But her genius five-year-old son secretly hacked the gala's raffle system, thrusting them directly under the spotlight. The untouchable billionaire host, Donovan Vance, froze when he saw the star-shaped birthmark on her wrist—the exact same mark from a dark hotel room five years ago.
Cornered, Seraphina was forced into a five-million-dollar marriage contract to appease Donovan's dying father and secure his corporate empire. She swallowed her pride, took the money to save her daughter, and moved into the penthouse. But Donovan's obsessive childhood friend, Gwendolyn, immediately targeted her. She humiliated Seraphina for her poverty and violently grabbed her in the foyer.
"I dare you to get a DNA test. When the world finds out they're not his, he'll throw you into the street himself!"
Gwendolyn's vicious threat made Seraphina's blood run cold. She was suffocating in sheer panic. She didn't even know if Donovan was actually the father. If a test proved he wasn't, she would be destroyed, and her daughter would lose her only lifeline.
But to her absolute horror, Donovan's father overheard the threat and ordered a legally binding paternity test that very day to permanently silence all doubts. With the medical team arriving and nowhere left to run, the terrifying secret Seraphina had buried for five years was about to be dragged into the light.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
The backstage lounge smelled like expensive cigars and leather polish. It was a suffocating mix that made Seraphina's stomach churn. She sat on the edge of the leather sofa, her arms wrapped around Fiona, while Pax and Rowan stood in front of them like two tiny soldiers facing a firing squad.
The heavy oak door swung open. Donovan walked in, his face set in hard lines, followed by Theodore in his wheelchair.
Seraphina's throat closed up. She pressed her face into Fiona's hair, breathing in the scent of cheap strawberry shampoo to ground herself.
Donovan didn't sit. He stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at her like she was a specimen under glass. "Well?"
Theodore ignored his son's tone. He rolled his chair closer, his eyes softening as he looked at the boys. He stopped right in front of Pax.
"What's your name, son?" Theodore asked, his voice gentle.
Pax didn't blink. "Pax Fletcher. This is my brother Rowan, and my sister Fiona."
Theodore let out a short, surprised laugh. He glanced up at Donovan. "When you were five, you threw a tantrum because the nanny cut your sandwiches into squares instead of triangles. This kid has better composure than the CEO of a Fortune 500 company."
Donovan didn't smile. His attention had shifted to Fiona. The little girl was peeking out from behind her mother's arm, her big eyes-eyes that were a striking, vivid shade of green-watching the room. They were the exact same shade as Donovan's late mother.
Seraphina noticed where he was looking. She immediately pulled Fiona tighter against her, hiding the child's face.
Theodore saw the defensive move. He reached into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a small, silver music box. He wound it gently, a soft lullaby filling the tense room, and held it out to Fiona. "For you, little lady."
Fiona looked up at Seraphina. Seraphina hesitated, the instinct to refuse warring with the knowledge that she couldn't afford to offend these people. She gave a tiny nod.
Fiona took the box, her face lighting up as the tune played.
Theodore watched the three children, his expression growing serious. He looked back at his son, dropping his voice so only Donovan could hear. "Look at them, Donovan. Put a photo of you at five next to Pax. Nobody would doubt it. And you know Gwendolyn Kensington is flying in from Paris next week. You'd best have your house in order before she arrives with her own ideas."
Donovan's heart gave a violent thud against his ribs. The words confirmed the insane thought that had been spinning in his head since he saw the birthmark. He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay flat. "Ms. Fletcher. We need to talk."
Seraphina stood up, pushing the kids slightly behind her. "Mr. Vance, if this is about the raffle prize, we don't need the car. We can just take the cash value, or-"
"No," Theodore interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp. "This isn't about the prize." He locked eyes with Seraphina. "We want to talk about your children."
The blood rushed from Seraphina's head. Her worst nightmare was unfolding. They knew. They somehow knew, and they were going to take them away.
Before she could speak, Theodore doubled over. A harsh, wet cough tore from his chest, shaking his entire frame. His face went from pale to gray in seconds. A private doctor materialized from the corner of the room, rushing to the old man's side.
Donovan was at his father's shoulder in an instant, his cold facade cracking to reveal genuine fear. "Dad?"
Fiona's lip trembled. "Is the grandpa okay?"
Theodore waved the doctor off, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his mouth and looked at the kids, his eyes unnervingly kind despite the pain. "Don't worry, little ones. Grandpa is just old and tired."
The word hit Seraphina like a physical blow. Grandpa.
Donovan froze. He stared at his father, then at the kids, the pieces slamming into place in his mind.
Theodore looked up at his son, his expression hardening. "Donovan. Have Alex take the children to the game room. I need to speak with Ms. Fletcher alone."
Donovan hesitated. He didn't want to let them out of his sight. But the look in his father's eyes brokered no argument. He nodded at Alex.
Alex ushered the kids toward the door. Pax glanced back at Seraphina. He gave her a tiny, reassuring nod, and as he passed the sofa, his hand moved swift as a shadow, sticking a small black dot underneath the frame.
The door clicked shut.
Seraphina stood alone in the vast room, facing the man in the wheelchair. The silence was deafening.
Theodore didn't waste time. "Ms. Fletcher," he said, his voice raspy but firm. "I don't have much time left. The cancer is in my pancreas. Six months, maybe less."
Seraphina's breath caught. The anger and fear deflated, replaced by an unexpected pity. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Just listen." Theodore leaned forward, his gaze piercing hers. "I want to die knowing my family is whole. I want to know the truth." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Are these children part of the Vance bloodline? Yes or no?"
You may also like
9.5
The disgraced daughter of the Patton family is back from the countryside.At the news, everyone spurned her with contempt!
A good-for-nothing young lady, a crude village wench, a vicious devil...
Until one day--The world-famous life-saving medical sovereign is her.The enigmatic top forensic specialist is her.The grandmaster hacker hunted across the globe is also her.
One hidden identity of the young miss came to light after another.Shocked and dumbfounded, the crowd fell to their knees to beg for forgiveness.
In an instant, Evie was cornered by the mysterious powerhouse.Hartwell's voice lured and mesmerized:"Darling, you have countless secret identities. Would you mind taking on one more, being my wife!"
7.3
Eloise was the untouchable Brandt family heiress, just one audition away from landing a lead movie role and escaping her golden cage.
But overnight, her family's empire completely collapsed.
With her father dying of heart failure, her mother forced her to beg the only man who could save them: Christian Clarke.
Christian was the ruthless billionaire who had publicly humiliated Eloise in college, ripping up her love letter in front of a laughing crowd.
Now, he tossed a fifty-million-dollar acquisition contract on the table.
"What exactly is the Brandt heiress putting up for sale today?"
To secure her father's medical care, Eloise was forced to sign a suffocating marriage contract, selling herself as a corporate tax shield.
He moved her into his freezing penthouse and treated her like a purchased asset. He mocked her attempts to cook him dinner, yet pinned her against the wall with punishing, possessive kisses whenever she tried to pull away.
Eloise's pride was entirely shattered.
She didn't understand why he was doing this. If he hated her so much and only wanted revenge, why did his touch carry such an agonizing, desperate heat?
Determined to survive, she went to her final audition and miraculously won the lead role, crying tears of joy because she had finally earned something on her own.
She had no idea that the cold-blooded monster sleeping beside her had just secretly threatened to destroy all of Hollywood to give it to her.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.
9.7
I died with blood pooling and betrayal.
My fiancé never loved me-he only wanted. My stepsister never saw me as family. And when I discovered I was carrying his child and tried to expose their affair, they shoved me into a shattered glass table and left me to bleed out alone.
But I woke up a year earlier, with my voice miraculously returned and a second chance burning in my chest.
This time, I refuse to be the silent, obedient sacrifice they used and discarded. This time, I'll make them pay. And when a ruthless billionaire offers me an impossible deal-a fake marriage to save his crumbling empire, I accept without hesitation.
They still see me as that broken, voiceless girl who couldn't fight back.
They have no idea I've already won.
8.4
To save my toxic family's bankrupt company, I was sold for fifty million dollars to marry Arch Rush III, a notoriously ruthless and paralyzed billionaire.
Because of my severe face blindness, I couldn't even recognize my new husband. I was just a cheap, replaceable pawn. Yet, while my own parents physically abused me and treated me like livestock, my terrifying new husband actually protected me.
But entering the Rush family estate was like stepping into a snake pit. His aristocratic relatives mocked my cheap clothes and even tried to disfigure me with boiling tea.
To further humiliate me in front of a world-renowned neurologist, his grandmother pointed a bony finger at me.
"Go massage his muscles, this is your daily duty now."
Arch glared at me with a lethal warning, but I had no choice. Trembling, I pressed my hands into his thigh.
My heart instantly dropped. Beneath his expensive suit, there was no soft, withered flesh. The muscle contours were tight, dense, and incredibly firm.
How could a man completely paralyzed from the waist down have the legs of an athlete?
Before I could process the terrifying truth, my strong fingers dug into a nerve cluster. Under my touch, his "dead" muscle violently twitched.
The doctor dropped his pen in absolute shock, and I realized I had just accidentally exposed the ruthless billionaire's deadliest secret.