The Fake Wife He Destroyed A Billionaire's Betrayal

Later, every time the Floyd family urged him to hold a wedding whenever he came home on leave, he found some excuse to refuse.

I thought he was worried that if he died in the line of duty someday, it would be harder for me to find happiness again.

It wasn't until now that I began to dimly understand. His heart had probably never been with me at all.

After his elder brother passed away, the woman who'd been engaged to him refused to leave the Floyd household, declaring she would remain faithful to her late fiancé for the rest of her life.

Over time, everyone came to regard Joan Short as the eldest grandson's widow.

And with that role came all the resources and status a Floyd daughter-in-law was entitled to.

There was only one condition: until Ryan married, she couldn't leave Southport.

The Floyd family needed a granddaughter-in-law who could tend to the elders at home and handle social obligations on their behalf.

Perhaps from the very beginning, Ryan had only gotten that marriage certificate with me to trap me in the Floyd household so his brother's widow could come and go as she pleased.

Now I couldn't even tell whether the two syllables he'd murmured during our most intimate moments were my name or hers.

I tucked the memories away, dabbed a few drops of water onto the stamp of the forged certificate, and placed it in front of the director.

"You don't need to worry about the Floyd family, sir."

I knew all his so-called concerns were a front. What he really feared was that letting me go would anger the Floyds.

A century-old family like theirs, one that had emerged unscathed from the darkest decade in the nation's history, wielded more than enough influence by now.

He watched the red ink bleed and dissolve into the water. With a sigh, he put my letter away.

"If that's the case, I'll make sure this gets sent to the National Institute as soon as possible."

"You know, if it weren't for the marriage, with your talent, you'd probably already be a chief architect."

I looked at the map of the country hanging on the wall and said calmly, "This time, I will be the youngest chief architect the Design Institute has ever had."

He nodded with a quiet laugh, an acknowledgment in itself.

"How long are you planning to stay here?"

"The chief engineer from the National Bureau of Architecture is coming. He mentioned you in a letter just the other day. After all these years, won't you see him?"

I froze. How could I possibly face him now?

I had just reached the entrance of the small motel when someone called out to me.

"Catherine!"

Ryan stepped out from the shadows, his body already fully recovered.

I clenched my fist and slapped him across the face.

"That's the price for deceiving me."

He ran his tongue along the split corner of his lip, tasting blood, and blocked my path.

"I heard you applied for a transfer to the western heritage surveying project."

I said nothing, which was answer enough.

"Grandma will never agree. Don't even think about it."

I scoffed. "Why would I need anyone in your family's permission?"

"Other than the child in my belly, you and I have no legal relationship whatsoever. You know that better than anyone, don't you?"

He faltered, his throat working several times before he finally spoke. "Catherine, it's not what you think. I can explain."

"Explain? Tell me it wasn't you who got a marriage certificate with your own brother's widow?"

Pain flashed through his eyes. He seized my wrist. "You're leaving me?"

"I won't allow it!"

A bitter laugh nearly escaped me. He was the one who had betrayed me, and now he was saying he wouldn't allow me to leave.

He wanted it all, didn't he?

"Ryan, I've been craving sour things so much lately. You don't think this little one might be a boy, do you?"

Joan strolled toward him, hugging a bag of candied hawthorn, her face the picture of innocence. When she spotted me, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Oh, Catherine's here too..."

Only then did my gaze drop to her abdomen. The slight swell was already visible.

Even though I'd braced myself for this, the ache still rose, bitter and sharp.

How could Ryan have done this to me?