A Lie Born in the Hawthorne House

Brynden Hawthorne's childhood sweetheart, Jennifer Vaughn, was pregnant. No one knew who the father was. To preserve the pristine reputation of this social darling, Brynden decided to claim the child as his own.

Meanwhile, I was his legal wife, which meant my child was set to be labeled a bastard.

"Jennifer is like a hothouse flower. The scandal of an unwed pregnancy would destroy her. She can't bear the accusations and ridicule of New York's high society." With that one casual remark, he erased five years of our marriage.

Later, his family forced me to sign divorce papers and took me to a private clinic for an abortion. They didn't know that the baby in my womb was the only true heir to the Hawthorne family.

And Brynden, doting on her like a priceless treasure, was at Jennifer’s side in a top-tier Swiss private clinic as she prepared to give birth.

By the time he returned to New York, I had already been forced to abort our child. And I had vanished completely from his world.

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1

That day, I had just won a major architectural design project and was heading home to celebrate.

However, the moment I stepped into our Park Avenue penthouse, the first thing I heard was Jennifer's cloyingly sweet, delicate voice.

"Brynden, what should we name our baby? If it's a boy, will he be as handsome as you? But I'm so scared... What if I can't handle the pain of giving birth?"

In the living room, Brynden Hawthorne held her by the shoulders, his gaze so gentle it could melt the winter snows of Manhattan. They were murmuring and laughing over a sonogram. Hearing the sound, Brynden looked up and saw me at the door. His once-soft gaze instantly turned to ice.

My blood ran cold. I advanced on him, my voice a tremor I fought to control. "Brynden, what does she mean by that?"

His arm was still wrapped tightly around Jennifer as he sighed. "Amelia, go back to our room. This is complicated. I'll explain later."

"Explain it to me right now!" I demanded, the design portfolio in my hand slipping from my grasp and scattering across the floor.

Brynden's expression darkened. "Amelia, don't make a scene."

I could no longer control my emotions. I surged forward, pounding his chest with my clenched fists. "Make a scene? Your childhood sweetheart is sitting in my living room, pregnant, and you're telling me not to make a scene?"

"Are you crazy?" The sight of Brynden getting hit sent Jennifer into a panic. She shoved me away, shielding him with her body. With a convenient stumble, the champagne in her hand spilled, drenching the design plans I had just dropped.

She jutted her stomach forward, a flash of vicious provocation in her eyes. "I'm carrying Brynden's child. What right do you have to touch him?"

In that instant, my heart felt like it had been frozen solid and then shattered into a million pieces. Tears streamed down my face.

Brynden watched me cry, his brow furrowed tightly. I could see in his eyes that his patience was wearing thin.

"Amelia, don't listen to her. The child isn't mine."

Before I could even process his words, Jennifer began her performance. Her large, meticulously lined eyes instantly welled with tears. She looked at Brynden, her expression a perfect portrait of betrayal.

"Brynden, you promised you wouldn't tell anyone until after the baby was born! How could you tell her?"

"Amelia is my wife. Since we're all going to be living together in this house, I have no reason to hide it from her," Brynden's voice was rational to the point of cruelty.

Hearing the words "living together," Jennifer stopped crying. In its place, a cruel smile curled her lips.

"Then shouldn't you tell her the rest of it? That for your sake—and so your child can have a legitimate name—my child has to grow up without a father?"

I felt a wave of suffocation, staring intently at Brynden, waiting for a denial. But he remained silent, and his silence was an admission.

Jennifer couldn't hide her triumph, stroking her belly proudly.

"Brynden is making such a huge sacrifice for me, just to silence the gossip in New York's social circles. I'm truly touched. In the future, my child will be the eldest son of the Hawthorne family, with full rights of inheritance. As for your child... well, he can be an adopted son, or maybe we'll send him to boarding school. We can discuss it later."

Fury surged within me, and I raised my hand again. But this time, Brynden caught my wrist, his grip so strong it nearly crushed my bones as he forcibly dragged me toward the master bedroom.

"Let go of me! Tell me what the hell is going on!"

I didn't understand. Was Jennifer really that important? So important that our own child didn't even deserve a name?

Brynden’s eyes flared with open annoyance, as if my very presence was an inconvenience.

"Jennifer has always maintained a flawless socialite image. The Vaughn family is at a critical stage of financing. If news got out that she's pregnant by an unknown man, their stock would plummet and her reputation would be ruined," Brynden explained impatiently, closing the door. "And she can't bear that kind of humiliation and ridicule."

"So you're letting me bear it instead? Letting my child become a bastard?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course not!" Brynden growled. "This is only temporary. Once she safely gives birth and the gossip dies down, I'll tell everyone the truth."

I stared at Brynden. He had suddenly become a stranger. I no longer recognized the man I had loved for five years.