His Ex-Wife’s Secret Baby:The Billionaire Who Lied About Our Son

They had just reached the study when they heard that.

Miles truly loved that woman. Years ago, the Vance family had forced him to choose between his position as heir and her. He'd chosen her without a moment's hesitation.

Three years had passed, and his resolve hadn't wavered. Amid her heartache, Molly felt an unexpected twinge of emotion.

Mrs. Vance's anger, barely contained, flared again. "Miles! If Molly's father hadn't saved your life back then, you wouldn't even be here. How can you say such things?"

"My survival had nothing to do with her father."

Mrs. Vance was so furious she started to cry, unable to fathom why her son refused to acknowledge this.

Molly didn't want him thinking she'd orchestrated this scene.

She gently embraced Mrs. Vance, murmuring something in her ear. The older woman's expression shifted, and she laughed.

Just like that, the tension dissolved.

Miles couldn't help glancing at Molly. She wore gray tailored trousers and a black knit sweater—minimalist and sharp. Paired with that striking, memorable face, the effect was dazzling.

Especially with that smile at the corner of her lips. Dazzling enough to be unforgettable.

His gaze darkened, and he looked away.

After they went downstairs, she said calmly that they shouldn't have married three years ago.

Miles studied her. Her tone was even, her eyes steady. She wasn't lying.

So she genuinely wanted a divorce?

Sensing his gaze, Molly met it without flinching—no longer blushing shyly as she once had.

Mrs. Vance clearly adored her, clasping her hands tightly. "After you divorce this foolish son of mine, just be my daughter instead. Your family's kindness—I haven't forgotten."

Mr. Vance agreed with the suggestion and asked what Molly wanted from the divorce settlement.

Molly hadn't expected things to go this way. Before she could find words for this awkward situation, her assistant called about an urgent matter at the company.

"Mom, Dad—there's an issue at the factory. I need to go handle it."

The factory?

"Isn't that out in the suburbs?" A two-hour drive, at least.

"Molly didn't bring her driver. You're her brother now—go with her." Mrs. Vance directed the last part at Miles.

He sat on the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of him. He didn't refuse, but everything about his posture radiated cold indifference—I'm not going.

They were getting divorced anyway. Molly didn't care about something this trivial.

"It's nothing major. I can handle it myself." She said goodbye to Mrs. Vance.

Mrs. Vance kicked her son's leg and leaned close to warn him: "Miles, keep pushing your luck and you can go live with that woman. Drop the Vance name entirely. Calling you her brother is already the biggest concession we're making."

Molly was putting on her coat in the foyer when Miles walked over, his jacket draped over his arm.

Once, this kind of compromise from him would have made her ecstatic.

Now, she just found it tiresome.

She didn't want his company, but she needed a driver. Without dwelling on it, she handed him the keys.

In the car, they didn't exchange a word—same as before.

Molly spent the entire two-hour drive on calls, dealing with work. She didn't stop once.

Miles glanced at her. A strand of hair had fallen against her cheek. From his angle, he could just make out the elegant slope of her nose, the vivid red of her lips.

When they arrived, Molly was about to get out when she remembered him. Covering the phone's mic, she said, "Thanks. And don't forget to get the brooch back—brother."

Miles's expression went cold. He let out a derisive scoff. She'd slipped into her role fast enough.

He stayed in the car, watching through the window as a crowd surrounded her.

He pulled out a cigarette, bent his head to light it, and sent Felix Henson his location—asking him to pick him up. He wasn't waiting for her.

Less than a minute later, Felix's voice call came through. "Bro, your wife becoming your sister—is that actually true?"

"Who told you?" Miles's voice was frigid.

"Your mom. She wants to throw Mol—I mean, your sister—a matchmaking party at the old estate this Saturday. Asked me to round up some decent-looking, reliable guys." A pause. "Bro, Molly's gorgeous. You two were never together together? Don't you think that's a waste?"

Miles ground his teeth. "And how would you know that?"

Felix didn't hold back. "Your mom again. She said, 'A wife that beautiful and he makes her his sister—is Miles an idiot?' The whole circle's talking. The going theory is you've got... performance issues."

Why else would a man keep a wife that stunning at arm's length?

Miles hung up and exhaled slowly.

Felix took two hours to arrive. Miles had planned to nap in the car, but the constant flow of vehicles through the industrial park grated on his nerves.

Felix took one look at Miles's sour mood and thought for a long moment. "Bro, this thing with Molly's company—it's blown up. Everyone's waiting to watch her fail. Are we really just... leaving?"

Miles leaned back in the passenger seat, eyelids lifting lazily. "You're suggesting I help her?"

"Professionally, this is a Vance factory. Personally, Molly's your wi—sister. Shouldn't we step in?"