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The Ugly Wife Went Viral Novel Cover

The Ugly Wife Went Viral

I, Serena Sterling, was infamous in our social circle for being ugly. Heavy bangs that hid my eyes, a face scattered with freckles, and clothes that never quite fit right made me unpleasant to look at. And yet, somehow, this very appearance caught Adrian Blackwood's attention. Even under pressure from his family, even as people mocked him for having a "taste for the ugly," he still insisted on marrying me. In the three years that followed, he spoiled me into becoming the most envied wife in our circle. I thought it was real love-the kind that saw past appearances and reached the soul. Until the day I stumbled upon ninety-nine love letters in his study-and a trust document bearing another woman's name. Only then did I realize that all his devotion had been nothing but a lie-one that turned me into a shield for the woman he truly loved. He had never loved me. Now that he had secured his position in the Blackwood family, he was finally free to be with her. I didn't argue. I handed him the divorce papers, wiped away the disguise that had made me "ugly," and disappeared from his life.
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Chapter 6

Adrian shot to his feet so abruptly that his chair slammed backward and knocked over the floor lamp behind him.

The conference room fell into dead silence. More than a dozen executives stopped mid-report and stared at him.

Adrian stared at the phone screen, his fingers repeatedly zooming in on that face.

For three years, I had always kept her head lowered, my heavy bangs hiding most of my face.

But once, late at night while pulling a blanket over me, he had caught a glimpse of the line of my jaw after I brushed my bangs aside.

It matched the curve in the photo exactly.

Adrian tightened his grip on the pen in his hand, crushing it without realizing how hard he was squeezing.

With a sharp snap, the custom pen broke in two, and ink dripped through his fingers onto the documents below.

"Meeting adjourned." Adrian turned and walked out of the conference room.

He strode out of the room and issued an order to the assistant hurrying after him.

"Find out. Trace the source of the photo. Find out where this woman went."

His voice was rough, edged with barely restrained agitation.

Back in the executive office, Adrian stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He looked down at his ink-stained palm, the unease in his chest growing stronger by the second.

It was a feeling he had never before associated with me.

An hour later, his assistant knocked and came in, drenched in sweat.

"Mr. Blackwood... we couldn't find anything."

The assistant lowered his head, not daring to look at Adrian's expression.

"The photo was scrubbed from the entire internet three hours ago. We couldn't find a single backup anywhere. Whoever did it used top-tier methods. Other than the fact that the original photo was taken at Kingsport Harbor, we have nothing."

Adrian turned and kicked the trash can beside his desk.

The metal bin slammed into the corner wall with a deafening crash.

"So you're telling me that in Kingsport, there's actually someone I can't trace?"

He strode up to the assistant, grabbed him by the collar, and fixed him with bloodshot eyes.

Just then, the office door burst open.

Vivian ran in wearing a thin white dress, crying as she came.

She threw herself straight into Adrian's arms.

"Adrian, you're looking for Serena, aren't you?"

She clutched at his shirt, her tears soaking into the fabric.

The force in Adrian's hand loosened.

He looked at Vivian, but what rose in his mind was my image falling into the sea.

"Adrian, stop looking for her. I'm scared."

Vivian looked up at him, her eyes swollen from crying.

"It was all my fault. I shouldn't have argued with her, but she really had gone crazy. She had her hands around my throat, saying she'd drag me down with her. She said she was jealous of how much you cared about me. She said if I died, maybe you'd finally look at her."

Vivian curled into Adrian's arms, her shoulders trembling nonstop.

In the past, the moment Vivian cried, Adrian would gather her into his arms.

But now, Adrian only looked down at her.

He realized that even while crying, Vivian instinctively adjusted her angle, making sure she still looked fragile and delicate.

And I, the quiet woman who had rarely said much of anything...

I had never cried like this in front of him.

Not long after I married Adrian, one of the Blackwood family banquets had turned ugly.

Adrian's uncle had poured scalding coffee over the back of my hand.

I hadn't cried then either. I had only taken two steps back, hidden my hand behind me, and smiled as I shook my head, telling him it didn't hurt.

Even on the day he had me forcibly sent to detention, I had only looked at him in silence.

A wave of irritation rose in Adrian's chest.

He pulled Vivian's hand away, his tone turning stiff.

"Serena fell into the sea and still hasn't been found. The rescue teams say her chances of survival are practically zero."

"She's probably dead already. What exactly are you still holding on to?"

Vivian's sobbing stopped short.

She froze where she stood, staring at Adrian in disbelief.

Adrian walked behind his desk, sat down, picked up another pen, and lowered his head to resume working through the documents.

"You haven't been well lately. Go back to the family estate and rest."

Vivian stood there, her hands and feet turning cold.

She had sensed the change in Adrian.

The man who used to have eyes only for her now would not even spare her a glance.

That look of impatience had once been reserved for me alone.

Vivian clenched her fists so hard her nails bit into her palms.

She realized that even as a corpse, I was starting to take back ground that Vivian had thought was hers.

She said nothing more. Hiding the resentment on her face, she lowered her head and walked out.

The office fell silent again.

Adrian stared at the words on the page in front of him.

Every word seemed to blur into my face, covered in freckles, wearing that humble, eager-to-please expression.

All at once, the spacious office felt so empty it was suffocating.

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