My Fake Husband Searched the World to Find Me

"Kylian... I’m scared. Can’t we just give the baby formula?" I looked at Kylian with pleading eyes, my voice trembling.

Back when I was rushed to the emergency room after being beaten by his mother, hadn’t the baby done just fine on formula?

But Kylian’s eyes were only on Kiran—he didn’t see the desperation in mine.

“If you truly care about the baby, then cooperate with the lactation specialist. Don’t worry—as long as you love Kiran, I’ll love him even more!”

With that, he handed the baby to Mauricio, then personally restrained my arms and legs before coldly instructing the specialist.

“Begin.”

His voice was icy—completely devoid of warmth. It chilled me to the bone.

The physical pain in my chest couldn’t even compare to the ache in my heart. My resistance meant nothing.

After the acupuncture and massage, Kiran finally fed to his heart’s content. And just like that, Kylian was so moved he burst into tears, hugging me tightly.

“Honey, thank you. You’ve suffered so much... I swear, I’ll never let you down for the rest of my life!”

His burning tears splashed onto my skin—but they couldn’t melt the ice that had frozen over my heart.

I shoved him away.

“Take him to rest. I’m tired.”

Kylian gently ruffled my hair, eyes brimming with emotion.

“Raising a child is no easy task. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Once you’re discharged, we’ll throw a grand celebration for Kiran’s birth. I want the whole world to know—I’m a father!”

He seemed so proud to be a father to someone else’s child. I didn’t even have the strength to mock him anymore.

I gave a bitter smile, silently cursing my own blindness. From childhood sweethearts to marriage and childbirth—for over twenty years, I never saw through who Kylian really was.

Seeing my smile, he gently took my hand, interlacing our fingers.

“Honey, I had a master read Kiran’s fortune. He said Kiran needs a godmother whose birth chart aligns with his. So I—”

“Alright. Whatever you decide.”

I knew what he was trying to do—give Felicity the “motherhood” experience she missed out on.

Fine. In ten days, I’d be gone. She could take over her role as the real mother.

—

Felicity arrived at the hospital room like a star—surrounded by Kylian’s group of loyal friends.

Everyone else carried fruit baskets while Felicity held a bouquet of flowers.

She smiled sweetly, shoving the flowers into my arms like we were old friends.

“Amber, giving birth must have been hard, huh? You look half-dead—good thing I decided never to have kids. But I do love children. In fact, I should be thanking you for letting me have the chance to be a mom...”

She paused, giggled, and corrected herself.

“Oops—not mom. Godmother! Sorry, I can be a little blunt sometimes. Hope you don’t mind?”

Everyone turned to look at me, like they were waiting for a show.

From the ridicule in their eyes, I could tell—they all knew I was just a surrogate.

I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly began sneezing uncontrollably.

Pollen allergy. Reflexively, I tossed the bouquet aside.

Felicity’s smile faded as her eyes welled up with tears. She turned to Kylian like a wounded child.

“Kylian... does she not like me?”

Kylian immediately stepped in with a frown, smoothing things over.

“A godmother is still a mother—just like a biological one.”

Felicity beamed with delight and reached for my hand again, putting on a show of affection.

“Amber, I just love kids too much. From now on, I’ll help you raise our baby!”

The itching on my skin was unbearable. I pulled my hand away and rang the nurse’s bell.

“Can someone bring me some antihistamines?”

Only then did Kylian seem to remember that I was allergic to pollen. He grabbed the flowers and threw them outside the room.

But then—he also tossed the medicine the nurse brought... straight into the trash.

“You’re breastfeeding. You can’t just take any medicine. Endure it—it’ll pass.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.

Back when I was pregnant, I once went into anaphylactic shock from pollen exposure.

Kylian panicked, carrying me all the way to the hospital in his arms.

Afterward, when I was finally out of danger, he couldn’t stop blaming himself.

He treated me like I was a priceless treasure, going to great lengths to remove every possible allergen from my environment.

But now? I was nothing more than a wet nurse to him.