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

Molly was undeniably beautiful. Her hair, which had been pinned up earlier, now cascaded over her shoulders like dark seaweed.

Her skin was porcelain-pale, her features exquisitely delicate. Sitting in the passenger seat, she dabbed concealer over the tiny mole on the tip of her nose, then applied a bold red lipstick. The effect was striking—elegant yet commanding.

Miles glanced over. "Why cover it up?"

It took Molly a moment to realize he meant the mole.

"It's too cutesy."

Miles understood. A twenty-six-year-old female executive couldn't afford to look endearing. That little mole on her nose gave her an innocent, almost provocative charm—not exactly the image that commanded respect in a boardroom.

He said nothing more, focusing on the road.

Molly didn't attempt small talk either, her gaze drifting to the window. The silence between them felt natural enough.

Still, knowing Miles was driving her to a matchmaking session left a bitter taste she couldn't quite name.

The whole thing had started before dinner. She'd been in the Vance family kitchen preparing a dish when Kirsten called. Her mother-in-law had answered on speakerphone.

"Princess, I've lined up a batch of young studs at July Club for you—tall, gorgeous, perfect for a young heiress like yourself to take her pick..."

Molly had frozen.

The kitchen staff stared at her, horrified disbelief written across their faces.

It was her mother-in-law who spoke first. "Wonderful, Kirsten. After dinner, we'll have Miles drive Molly over."

Her car was still parked at the Industrial Park. At the dinner table, Mrs. Vance had asked Miles to take her to the matchmaking event, and he'd agreed without hesitation.

Even though she'd already decided on divorce, uprooting someone who'd taken residence in your heart still took time.

Miles's complete indifference sent an involuntary pang through her chest.

When they arrived at July Club, Molly thanked him politely.

He gave a brief nod, then drove off.

Miles was satisfied with how they'd handled things. Molly's lack of clinginess had even earned her a few points in his estimation.

Fifteen minutes later, stopped at a red light, he opened a photo Felix had sent him.

Molly stood in the corridor outside a private room, phone pressed to her ear, wearing a backless sweater.

From the front, the dark gray knit looked unremarkable—a basic cut. But the back was open from the shoulder blades down, the fabric only resuming where a large bow cinched at her waist. Her black hair spilled over her jade-pale skin, the stark contrast neither jarring nor obvious, but creating something subtly sensual—an atmosphere of intimate allure.

No wonder she'd kept her jacket on throughout dinner, never once complaining about the heat.

She'd been afraid that taking it off would shatter her good-daughter-in-law image in front of his mother.

...

Molly sat on the private room's sofa, surveying the row of handsome men standing before her. She frowned slightly.

"Not a single one?" Kirsten asked.

"They're all pretty enough, but 'pretty' isn't really a compliment for a man."

Kirsten flopped sideways on the sofa, shooting her a look. "Compared to that devastatingly handsome face of his, these guys do fall short."

Miles's appeal came from the inside out—that presence, that bearing. His looks were almost secondary.

Molly had sharp taste. Having snagged someone like Miles, of course everyone else seemed bland by comparison.

Molly flipped through the stack of résumés, pulled out four, and handed them over. "Your studio's talent auditions have turned into some kind of imperial consort selection."

"This selection is just for you. He never satisfied you anyway—let these four make up for your three wasted years."

Felix had been standing at the door for a while. Only after Miles stalked off with a thunderous expression did he push it open. "Molly, my brother wants to see you about something."

Molly blinked, confused. "Didn't he go home?"