The CEO's Fake Wife And Secret Triplets
8.9 / 10.0
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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.
The CEO's Fake Wife And Secret Triplets Chapter 1
"Stop fidgeting," Seraphina whispered, her hand pressing firmly against Pax's shoulder.
The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel thrummed with the kind of money that could buy small countries. Crystal chandeliers cast blinding prisms across silk gowns and diamond necklaces. Seraphina stood in the far corner, a ghost in her borrowed, slightly-too-tight black dress, trying to make herself invisible. Her phone, tucked away in a small clutch, felt like a lead weight. She'd seen the email from Mount Sinai just before they'd left the apartment, the subject line a punch to the gut: Urgent Update on Fiona's Treatment Plan. She hadn't dared to open it, but she knew what it meant. More tests, more experimental drugs, more money she didn't have.
"I'm not fidgeting," Pax muttered, his eyes darting around the room. At five years old, he looked like any other kid in his miniature suit, but the old tablet he clutched under the tablecloth was a dead giveaway. He wasn't here for the canapés.
Rowan leaned against her left leg, quiet as a shadow, while Fiona tugged on Seraphina's right sleeve. "Mommy, I'm still hungry."
Seraphina scanned the nearest waiter's tray. Only one mini grilled cheese sandwich left. She grabbed it, breaking it into three tiny pieces. "Here. Share."
Fiona popped her piece into her mouth, her eyes drifting toward the stage where a man in a tailored tuxedo commanded the microphone. Donovan Vance. He looked like he was carved from marble, cold and untouchable.
"Mommy," Fiona whispered, her eyes wide, "is that man a king?"
Seraphina's stomach dropped. A memory flashed-sticky heat, darkness, a heavy weight, and a blinding panic that stole her breath. She blinked it away, her hand instinctively moving to cover her wrist. "No, sweetie. Just a man. Eat your cheese."
On stage, the host, Miles Baxter, clapped his hands. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! The Vance Foundation Annual Children's Charity Raffle!"
The massive screens behind him exploded into a whirlwind of scrolling names. Seraphina grabbed the kids' hands. "Okay, time to go. We ate, we saw, we leave."
"But the spinning pictures!" Fiona whined, digging her heels into the plush carpet. "I want to see who wins!"
Seraphina tugged, but Fiona was surprisingly stubborn. Under the tablecloth, Pax's fingers flew across his tablet. A faint smile touched his lips. He wasn't hacking the system itself-that was impossible. But he had found a loophole in the guest registration portal an hour earlier. A simple glitch. Names entered in the final thirty seconds before the raffle began were temporarily cached at the top of the display's rendering queue. He'd typed their name in at the precise moment the host started speaking. He tapped the screen twice, submitting the entry.
The screens on stage stuttered for a fraction of a second. The scrolling slowed, the names blurring, until they locked onto three words in bold gold font.
FLETCHER TRIPLETS.
The room went silent. A spotlight swung from the stage, slicing through the dim lighting like a blade, landing directly on the corner where Seraphina stood.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. The heat of the light was suffocating. Every pair of eyes in the room-socialites, billionaires, heiresses-turned to stare at the woman in the cheap dress and her three mismatched children.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Miles boomed, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "It looks like we have our winners! The Fletcher Triplets! Please, come on up!"
Seraphina couldn't move. Her feet felt glued to the floor. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to eat the fancy food and slip out the back.
Fiona, oblivious to the tension, squealed with delight. "We won, Mommy! We won!" She yanked her hand free from Seraphina's grip and started marching toward the stage, her little patent leather shoes clicking on the marble.
"Fiona, wait!"
Pax and Rowan followed their sister. Seraphina had no choice. She scooped up the hem of her dress and chased after them, her face burning with a humiliation that tasted like copper on her tongue.
As they climbed the steps, Donovan Vance stepped slightly to the side, his expression unreadable. But the older man beside him-Theodore Vance, the patriarch-leaned forward in his wheelchair, his eyes suddenly sharp and bright.
Seraphina kept her head down, focusing on the floor. She stopped the kids a few feet away from the microphone, desperate to grab the prize and run.
Donovan's gaze swept over them. It started with Fiona, lingered on Rowan, and finally landed on Pax. Pax didn't look away. The five-year-old stared right back at the billionaire, his chin lifted, his eyes unnervingly calm.
Donovan's jaw tightened. A muscle feathered near his ear. He looked at Seraphina.
She kept her eyes on the floor, her chest tight. She needed air. She needed to get out of this spotlight. She reached out to pull Fiona closer, her sleeve riding up just an inch.
Under the harsh glare of the stage lights, the small, star-shaped birthmark on the inside of her wrist was impossible to miss.
Donovan's breath hitched. It was a tiny sound, barely audible, but it cut through the noise of the applause. His eyes locked onto the mark. The color drained from his face.
Five years ago. A dark hotel room. A woman struggling beneath him, her hands pushing against his chest, that exact same star blazing on her wrist.
Seraphina felt the intensity of his stare like a physical weight. She looked up, her eyes colliding with his. The cold calculation was gone, replaced by something raw and violent. Shock.
Panic flooded her system. She yanked her sleeve down, covering the mark. She grabbed the kids, pulling them behind her like a shield. "Thank you," she blurted into the microphone, her voice trembling. "We'll take the prize and go."
She turned to flee, but a figure stepped into her path. Alex Dunn, Donovan's assistant, stood there, his face a mask of polite efficiency.
"Ms. Fletcher," Alex said, his voice low and calm, his smile professional. "Congratulations. Mr. Vance would like to congratulate you personally and verify the prize details in a more private setting. If you and your children would be so kind as to follow me?"
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The CEO's Fake Wife And Secret Triplets of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5
Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
8.9
This is my story of how to lose a mob boss in ten days.
I have a
I've been arranged to marry a monster.
Run away? Good idea. Tried that. Didn't work.
Because in my family, my father makes the rules.
And he says this wedding is happening .
But he still has a soft spot for me, his last remaining daughter.
So he offers me a deal.
Take ten days.
Get to know Sasha.
See if you change your mind.
Yeah, right.
Sasha Ozerov is a beast in Brioni.
He's ruthless, flawless, utterly unconcerned with mortals like me.
All he wants is what our marriage would bring
My family's power and the city in the palm of his hand.
But maybe, if I can make him back out of the deal...
I'll keep my freedom.
So I set out to do everything I can to drive him crazy.
I have ten days to make my husband hate me.
What happens if I start to love him instead?
8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
