The Billionaire’s Secret Bride

Nathaniel Fu's brows furrowed deeply. He turned toward the door—Celia's scarred face came into view.

She stood frozen at the entrance, clearly not expecting to see him and Sylvia together in bed. Her expression faltered, stunned into stillness.

Nathaniel's mood turned even worse. His lips parted, and the words that came out were as cold as ice.

"Did no one ever teach you the rules for a maid? You think you can just walk into the master's bedroom whenever you want? Get out."

Celia turned and fled without a word.

Sylvia secretly grinned. That was the kind of scolding that little bitch deserved. Let her keep dreaming about seducing her husband!

But before Sylvia's triumphant smile could even fully form, a powerful force hit her.

Nathaniel had shoved her off the bed—hard.

Thud.

She landed heavily on the carpet.

"…"

Just moments ago, she was inwardly laughing at Celia. Now, she herself had become the joke.

Nathaniel got out of bed, towering over her with a frosty glare.

"Don't touch me during the day. Ever," he said coldly. "Try it again—and you'll lose that hand."

With that, he strode into the bathroom. He needed to scrub off every trace of Sylvia's touch.

Sylvia left in a mess, her plan completely backfired. She thought she could finally sleep with Nathaniel, but instead, he acted like she was contaminated.

It was so clear now. The version of "Sylvia" he liked only existed at night—and that was Celia.

Sylvia found Celia and forced a smug smile.

"Celia, you were just humiliated. Face it—my husband only likes you because he thinks you're me."

She leaned in, voice dripping with fake sympathy.

"Do you know why he was so angry? Because you interrupted our little moment. Why'd you tell him I was on my period last night? Otherwise, the two of us would've—" She deliberately left the rest to imagination.

Celia didn't react. Her face was expressionless.

So this was the real reason Sylvia sent her in "after ten minutes"—just to make sure she caught the scene. Just to stab her with it.

And Nathaniel's "get out" had been filled with nothing but contempt. That night... really had been just a dream. A dream where he didn't even know it was her.

He remembered only the feeling—but not the person.

At that moment, the front door burst open and a familiar voice rang out.

"Uncle! Uncle, are you up?"

Julian Fu had arrived.

Sylvia quickly stepped forward with a sweet smile.

"Mr. Fu, what brings you here so early?"

Julian's eyes lit up when he saw her.

"Hey—Clown Girl? You're here too? Wait... where's your scar? Didn't you say you had to look ugly today?"

Celia's heart sank. She knew instantly that Julian had mistaken Sylvia for her—after all, they looked exactly the same.

She opened her mouth to explain, but a cold voice came from upstairs.

"What do you mean, 'ugly,' Julian? What are you talking about?"

Celia's heart dropped. Nathaniel had heard it.

Julian finally spotted Celia and did a double take between the two women.

Wait... they looked identical. Could Sylvia be... his aunt?

But that didn't make sense.

Why did his aunt look exactly like the clown girl?

Julian stood frozen in confusion.

Just then, Nathaniel appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with long, steady strides. His gaze fixed sharply on Julian.

"Julian, why did you mix them up just now?" His voice was low, calm—dangerous. "Are you saying Celia looks just like Sylvia?"

"I, uh…"

Nathaniel's gaze slowly shifted to Celia. His narrow eyes narrowed.

Why hadn't he noticed before?

The left side of her face—the unscarred side—was almost identical to Sylvia's. And if the scar on the right was covered…

He stared at Celia and suddenly barked, "Come here."

Celia's heart skipped a beat.

Oh no. He had noticed.

Had her secret finally been exposed?