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
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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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7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
8.5
Synopsis
It still feels so unreal being dumped by my boyfriend at the courtyard on the day of our wedding.
David didn't show up and when I called him to know the reason why.
He told me right to my face that he had found love with another woman who happened to be my best friend.
My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces.
I was wallowing in self-pity when I overheard Lucas talking on the phone about needing a replacement for the woman who has collected a part-payment to be his wife.
I agreed to be his wife without thinking twice wanting to get back at my Ex.
What would happen when two strangers' hearts intertwined?
And what started as an arrangement became a bedrock for something real?
Read to find out.
9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
8.7
"You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down?
9.3
For years, Gabriela believed the man beside her would be the one she grew old with. They had loved each other since they were young, but in the end, all those years meant nothing beside a younger woman's smile.
Returning from a business trip, she uncovered his betrayal with brutal clarity. Still, she did not cry or beg. She took out her phone, recorded every damning second, and filed for divorce the moment she could.
Afterward, she rebuilt her life into something brighter, richer, and stronger, even marrying a powerful tycoon. As for her ex and his shameless mistress, they could rot together.
9.4
Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex.
Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married.
Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win.
When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone.
Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera.
Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.