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

Miles didn't get home until well past midnight.

In one corner of the living room, the suitcase he'd brought back yesterday sat untouched, exactly where he'd left it.

He thought of Molly.

For the past three years, he'd been living abroad. Every time he returned, she would greet him with that eager, ingratiating smile. His suitcase was heavy—heavy enough to make her slender frame tilt to one side—yet she'd still haul it upstairs, huffing with effort the whole way.

The way she used to look at him, all shy adoration. Nothing like this time.

He glanced at his phone. Multiple missed calls, most from Felix. None from her.

He called Felix back.

It took a while before the line connected. "Miles, I'm still working."

"Working with Molly?" Miles was skeptical. The factory situation was urgent, but hardly complicated.

"Yeah. Still at the Industrial Park."

Miles frowned. "It's taking this long to handle something that minor? What exactly is Molly doing over there?"

Felix felt a pang of indignation on Molly's behalf. "This wasn't what we thought—some simple mistake by the packaging supplier that could be fixed with a reprint or a new vendor. This was deliberate sabotage, designed to make sure the first shipment couldn't go out. If it weren't for Molly, we'd have been completely screwed."

Harbor City had a traditional preserved fruit specialty with a fixed annual export quota of two billion dollars to Japan and Korea. This year, one billion of that had been entrusted to a trading company under the Vances.

Today was supposed to be the first shipment. But the packaging materials for a hundred thousand units failed to meet standards. The designer had vanished. The manufacturer claimed ignorance. No other company had enough stock to replace or supplement on short notice.

When Miles arrived at the Industrial Park, Felix practically threw himself at him. "Miles, can you even imagine? Every single person in this entire complex has been working overtime, hand-labeling a hundred thousand packages. I've never suffered like this in my entire life!"

Miles pressed his lips into a thin line. He searched for a while before he finally spotted Molly near the entrance of the Sterile Workshop, peeling off her cleanroom suit.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights that made the space bright as noon, the glow fell across her face. Even from a distance, he could see her clearly.

Her bone structure was striking. Porcelain skin without a trace of makeup. The predawn chill cut deep, and she'd wrapped herself in a drab gray cashmere blanket, yet she still looked stunning—effortlessly, devastatingly beautiful.

Molly was finishing up a conversation with the current general manager. The man was in his forties, a full head taller than her, yet he listened to her with obvious deference.

"Miles, Molly didn't get where she is just because of your parents' help, you know?"

Felix was reminding him: when it came to Molly, Miles didn't just lack understanding—he was deeply prejudiced.

When Molly walked past Miles, she acted as though she hadn't seen him.

It wasn't deliberate coldness. She simply hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, and by now, she was running on fumes.

"About today—I misjudged the situation. I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.

Molly hadn't expected an apology from Miles. She paused, tilting her head to look at him.

"Felix told me everything. If it weren't for you, the company would've been in serious trouble."

Printing the missing product labels, then applying them by hand—the solution was crude, but it was the only option available.

She had stayed calm under pressure, made quick decisions. She was sharp, capable, someone who solved problems.

For the first time, Molly saw something in his eyes that looked like genuine appreciation. Not that familiar icy disdain.

Her nose stung.

Three years. This was the first time he'd ever looked at her without hostility—and it had to be now, when she'd already decided on divorce.

She dropped her gaze. "Just doing my job. Can't exactly collect a paycheck for nothing."

After that, neither of them spoke.

Miles watched the night wind lift strands of her hair. She tucked her pale, slender neck deeper into the blanket for warmth. "I don't know you well," he said, "but my parents genuinely care about you. That says a lot about who you are. But there's someone else in my heart. I made her a promise—that I'd marry her—and I won't go back on my word. From now on, if you ever run into trouble, I'll have your back. As your brother."

He stood in the path of the wind. Carried on the cold night air was the faint trace of that woman's perfume.

A fine, piercing ache spread through Molly's chest. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I hope you two are happy together," she managed, her voice catching.