The Billionaire’s Secret Bride

Celia felt her whole body melt like water, leaving her completely weak. The sensation was strange—unfamiliar and dangerous. But she didn't dare think too much about it.

She knew Nathaniel Fu only saw her as Sylvia. She was just a stand-in. Come dawn, everything would reset. They would each return to their own roles like nothing had happened.

Fine, let it be. Just for tonight. Let it be a dream.

Celia slowly closed her eyes, her lashes trembling twice in panic before settling.

After an unknown amount of time, Nathaniel finally released her from the kiss. Her long, silky black hair fanned out across the white pillowcase. Her cheeks were flushed, lips cherry red, her features delicate like a painting—almost unreal, like a little fairy out of a dream.

Nathaniel turned onto his back, trying to suppress the surge of emotions in his chest. He pulled her into his arms.

"Go to sleep," he murmured.

Face still burning, Celia buried herself in his chest and whispered, "Mm. Good night."

Before six the next morning, Celia quietly slipped out of the master bedroom. She re-applied her scar makeup, concealing her real face, and got back to her duties.

Just as she finished, Sylvia appeared with a stormy expression.

"Is my husband awake yet?" she asked sharply.

"No," Celia replied evenly. "By the way—last night I told him I was on my period. Don't forget that detail."

Sylvia immediately latched onto the implication. "You told him you were on your period? Why would you say that... unless he tried to touch you?" Her eyes went wide with jealousy.

Celia didn't answer. She continued tidying the table, her face blank.

"You little bitch!" Sylvia spat. "You must've seduced him—why else would he try anything?!"

Celia looked up and replied with a faint smirk, "Then maybe you shouldn't have sent your little stand-in to your husband's bed."

"…"

Once again, Sylvia found herself completely at a loss. She could never win a war of words with Celia. The girl's sharp tongue always left her seething.

Then, as if an idea struck her, Sylvia suddenly grinned. Nathaniel was still asleep. That meant…

"Celia," she said sweetly, "wait ten minutes, then go into the master bedroom and pick up the clothes my husband changed out of last night."

Celia looked at the smug expression on her face and instantly guessed what she was planning. She nodded calmly. "Sure."

Sylvia hurried upstairs and crept into the master bedroom. Nathaniel was still asleep.

Perfect.

She tiptoed to the bed, heart racing with anticipation. This was her chance—finally, she could sleep in his arms.

Sylvia slowly climbed into bed, inching closer to him. The closer she got, the more her excitement built. His face was so handsome up close—cold, elegant, powerful.

Just as her cheek brushed against his chest, Nathaniel's sharp eyes snapped open.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Sylvia froze.

Nathaniel sat up.

So close. She had been so close!

"I—I just wanted to sleep next to you," Sylvia stammered, trying to sound affectionate. "You're my husband."

Nathaniel stared at her, lips pressed into a tight line. There was something off—too much makeup, the overly strong perfume. It masked something. That fresh, natural scent from last night still lingered on the bed sheets.

His heart twisted. That girl from last night—her warmth, her kiss—it was still vivid. Like a dream.

Sylvia was nothing like her.

His voice turned icy. "Go downstairs. Ask Mrs. Zhou to change all the bedding. And don't ever get into my bed again."

Sylvia's face went pale.

At that moment, the door opened—and Celia walked in.

"Honey~" Sylvia called out instantly. She tugged down one of her silk nightgown straps, revealing smooth, pale skin and leaned against Nathaniel's chest, putting on her most seductive voice. "You're so bad… I told you I'm on my period~"