During the day, she was a dedicated and humble housekeeper. As night fell, she cleaned her scar and showed her breathtaking beauty to become the substitute wife of the billionaire president. Soon, the secret of her being a substitute was revealed and all the ladies in New York couldn't wait to see her falling from grace. However, no matter how long they waited, they only got to see her live an extraordinary life - she could create perfumes and make drugs. Her charisma killed all. Some president even turned into uxorious and spoiled her with his heart and soul. "She's mine. Stay away from her!"
"You have no choice, Baila. Sleep with my husband tonight, or you'll never see your grandmother again!"
Standing outside the presidential suite of the Ruy Hotel, Baila Nelson froze.
Rowan Hayes was Phoebe Nelson's husband, the man Phoebe had married two years ago only to cast him aside with disdain. To Phoebe, he was nothing more than an illegitimate heir, unworthy of her time. She had taken Baila's grandmother hostage to force Baila to take her place, using her as a substitute for herself.
Fortunately, Baila had never crossed paths with Rowan, as he had spent the past two years abroad.
But Baila had never imagined that the moment Rowan returned, Phoebe would demand that she sleep with him.
Baila's fists clenched at the thought of her grandmother, who was taken away as leverage. "Fine," she finally said through gritted teeth.
Baila walked into the presidential suite. It was dimly lit inside.
A figure lay sprawled across the massive bed. The man looked strikingly handsome.
So this was "her husband"-the man she had been "married" to for two years.
She hadn't expected him to be so young. And certainly not this handsome.
Biting her lower lip, Baila hesitated for only a moment before crawling onto the bed.
Her trembling fingers reached for his belt, fumbling at the clasp.
The second her skin brushed against his waist, she shivered.
Before she could react, a strong hand shot out, seizing her wrist. In an instant, she was yanked forward, crashing against the man's solid frame.
The scent of alcohol clung to him, heavy and intoxicating. His warm breath ghosted over her face. "Who are you?"
His voice was deep and cold.
Baila barely had time to catch her breath before she met his eyes.
At some point, he had woken up, his piercing gaze now locked onto her with an unsettling intensity.
Baila's heartbeat thundered in her ears. For a split second, she hesitated. Then, she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. "Shh," she whispered against his mouth, "if you need an answer, just know this-I'm your wife."
***
The next morning.
The Ruy Hotel was locked down. A line of bodyguards in black suits stood guard outside the presidential suite, their presence heavy with tension.
Inside, Rowan was awake, leaning against the headboard. His fingers idly tapped against his knee, his eyes sharp with anger.
Last night had been a blur. Fresh off a flight back to the country, he had been whisked off to a business dinner, only to be sent back drunk to his hotel room by his secretary.
When he had woken up, he had seen a woman straddling him.
He had never thought he would wake up while being intimate with someone else.
Over the years, countless women had tried to seduce him, yet none had dared to force themselves on him. That woman was the first.
And afterward, she had disappeared without a word.
Very well. That bold woman, reckless with desire, at least had the sense to run-knowing full well he would have destroyed her if she had been caught.
The bed was a mess, sheets rumpled, with a stark patch of dried blood standing out against the crisp white fabric.
Rowan exhaled slowly, his throat tightening. A virgin. And yet, she had been bold enough to do something like that.
"Boss." Clive Aston, Rowan's secretary, strode inside urgently. "We've found out who the woman was."
"Who was she?" Rowan asked.
"Your wife," Clive replied.
"My wife?" Rowan frowned, but as the words settled, fragments of a long-forgotten memory surfaced.
Two years ago, the Hayes and Nelson families had arranged his marriage, the matter orchestrated by his grandmother, Old Mrs. Hayes. He had never given much thought to his marriage to Phoebe, who had been brought in a car to Imperial Manor on their wedding night. Their marriage had been kept secret, known only to a select few.
And now, after two years apart, the woman in his bed last night had been his so-called wife?
"I need to return to Imperial Manor," Rowan said, his voice cold.
***
Imperial Manor.
When Baila returned, she met Phoebe's eyes. "I did what you asked me to do."
Phoebe glanced at the hickeys scattered along Baila's skin, barely concealed beneath her collar. Those imprints had been made by her husband-ones that should have belonged to her.
But Phoebe wasn't a virgin.
"Listen carefully, Baila. Last night never happened. As far as the world is concerned, I am Rowan's wife. Rowan is the head of the Hayes family. Your time as a stand-in is over. I will take my place as Mrs. Hayes now," Phoebe said.
Baila's body tensed as she heard that. It turned out Rowan wasn't just anyone-he was the head of the Hayes family.
No wonder Phoebe had come rushing back, desperate to reclaim her title as Rowan's wife.
The Hayes family was one of the wealthiest and most elusive families in New York. Their influence stretched far and wide, and the head of the Hayes family was known as cold, powerful, and strikingly handsome-a young king in the world of business.
For years, Phoebe had fantasized about marrying him. But two years ago, when the Hayes family proposed the marriage, she had turned her nose up at Rowan since he was only an illegitimate son of the Hayes family.
And so, she had forced Baila to take her place.
Baila exhaled sharply, looking Phoebe straight in the eyes. "Got it."
Phoebe smirked. Without warning, she reached out and wiped away the foundation on Baila's right cheek. A long, jagged scar emerged.
Baila was a spitting image of Phoebe, but the scar on her face set them apart-a flaw that had to be concealed with foundation whenever Baila had to pretend to be Phoebe.
To everyone else, Phoebe was the celebrated beauty of New York. Baila? Nothing more than a nobody from the countryside.
Just then, a servant announced, "Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Hayes is back!"
Rowan was back!
Phoebe quickly shot Baila a warning look, smoothed the creases from her dress, and strode toward the entrance to welcome Rowan.
The doors swung open, letting in a rush of cold air as a tall, imposing figure stepped inside.
Raising her head, Baila saw Rowan.
Dressed in a custom-tailored black suit, he looked refined. The fabric clung smoothly to his frame, unwrinkled and flawless, as if even the smallest imperfection had no place in his presence.
His face-sculpted-looked as if it had been crafted by a master artist.
It was him. The man in the hotel room last night.
In an instant, memories from the night before crashed into Baila-his heavy breaths, the heat of his touch... Her lashes quivered, and she instinctively dropped her gaze.
Phoebe walked to embrace Rowan. "Honey," she said sweetly, "you were so rough with me last night at the hotel..."
But before she could reach him, Rowan seized her wrist in an iron grip to stop her. His expression turned cold. "How dare you do something like that to me? Do you have a death wish?"
Pain shot up Phoebe's arm, her bones nearly crushed under his grip. Panic flickered in her eyes. "Honey, listen-it's not what you think! Old Mrs. Hayes was the one who arranged it! She said we had to be intimate, and she drugged me! She was also the one who gave me the room card-I had no choice!"
Old Mrs. Hayes again!
Rowan's jaw tightened, irritation flashing through his eyes.
From the corner of the room, Baila stood still, barely breathing. She had heard enough about Rowan to know he was ruthless, a force to be feared.
If he ever discovered she was the one who had slept with him that night, she was as good as dead.
Without hesitation, Baila turned to leave.
But just as she took her first step, Rowan, catching sight of her slender silhouette, said, "Stop."
Baila froze. Her chest pounded.
Had he discovered something amiss?
Rowan strode towards Baila. "Who are you? Raise your head and look at me!"
His presence was overwhelming. Her fingers curled against her palms as she slowly lifted her head.
The first thing he noticed was her eyes. Deep. Clear. A perfect mix of innocence and allure.
Rowan's face darkened. Those eyes. They were the same ones he had stared into the night before.
His eyes turned sharp as he said, "It was you!"
Damn it. He had recognized her!
During the day, she was a dedicated and humble housekeeper. As night fell, she cleaned her scar and showed her breathtaking beauty to become the substitute wife of the billionaire president. Soon, the secret of her being a substitute was revealed and all the ladies in New York couldn't wait to see her falling from grace. However, no matter how long they waited, they only got to see her live an extraordinary life - she could create perfumes and make drugs. Her charisma killed all. Some president even turned into uxorious and spoiled her with his heart and soul. "She's mine. Stay away from her!"
During the day, she was a dedicated and humble housekeeper. As night fell, she cleaned her scar and showed her breathtaking beauty to become the substitute wife of the billionaire president. Soon, the secret of her being a substitute was revealed and all the ladies in New York couldn't wait to see her falling from grace. However, no matter how long they waited, they only got to see her live an extraordinary life - she could create perfumes and make drugs. Her charisma killed all. Some president even turned into uxorious and spoiled her with his heart and soul. "She's mine. Stay away from her!"
For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul—her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband’s entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I’m out of your league."
Natalie used to think she could melt Connor’s icy heart, but she was sorely mistaken. When at last she decided to leave, she discovered that she was pregnant. Even so, she chose to quietly leave his world, prompting Connor to mobilize all of his resources and expand his business to a global scale—all in a bid to find her. But there was no trace of Natalie. Connor slowly spiraled into madness, turning the city upside down and leaving chaos in his wake. Natalie finally surfaced years later, with wealth and power of her own, only to find herself entangled with Connor once again.
On their wedding night, Rogelio wrapped his fingers around Marian's neck and spat at her, "Congratulations! From now on, you live in hell!" The reason for his wrath was that he believed she was responsible for the death of his elder brother. So, he married her but refused to touch her, determined to make her suffer for the rest of her pitiful life! However, due to an unforeseen accident, Marian was forced to sleep with Rogelio in order to save him, and she ended up getting pregnant. Concealing her pregnancy, Marian lived cautiously under Rogelio's watchful eyes. He hated her and relentlessly humiliated her, yet he would never allow anyone else to lay a finger on her— "Mr. Bailey, your wife got into a fight with someone!" Rogelio secretly took action, eliminating that person completely. "Sir, your wife claimed that all of your family's wealth belongs to her!" Rogelio quietly transferred all the shares to her. Unaware of all this, Marian only wanted to escape, but Rogelio pulled her into his warm embrace, whispering, "Mrs. Bailey, where do you intend to go with our unborn child?"
Everyone was shocked to the bones when the news of Rupert Benton's engagement broke out. It was surprising because the lucky girl was said to be a plain Jane, who grew up in the countryside and had nothing to her name. One evening, she showed up at a banquet, stunning everyone present. "Wow, she's so beautiful!" All the men drooled, and the women got so jealous. What they didn't know was that this so-called country girl was actually an heiress to a billion-dollar empire. It wasn't long before her secrets came to light one after the other. The elites couldn't stop talking about her. "Holy smokes! So, her father is the richest man in the world?" "She's also that excellent, but mysterious designer who many people adore! Who would have guessed?" Nonetheless, people thought that Rupert didn't love her. But they were in for another surprise. Rupert released a statement, silencing all the naysayers. "I'm very much in love with my beautiful fiancee. We will be getting married soon." Two questions were on everyone's minds: "Why did she hide her identity? And why was Rupert in love with her all of a sudden?"
A sudden twist of fate connected Helena to a prominent and influential person. To onlookers, she appeared as a naive bimbo. In truth, she was a top-tier specialist, shrouded in layers of hidden identities. Charlie declared, “She’s quite delicate and easily hurt. Cross her, and you’re crossing me.” The elite families, outwitted by Helena's prowess, kept these truths from him. Helena eventually broke free from Charlie, sending him on a frenzied worldwide hunt. To him, she was a bird with dazzling wings, and his goal was to help her reach new heights.
Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.