Two years into her marriage, Clara Walsh accidentally tore their marriage certificate while tidying up a drawer.

She rushed to the Civil Affairs Bureau to get a new one, but the woman at the counter frowned and said, “Ma’am, there’s no record of your marriage in the system.”

Clara blinked. “That can’t be right. I’ve been married for two years!” She handed over the torn certificate, confused.

The clerk patiently looked it up three times, then finally turned the screen toward her. “There’s really nothing under your name. And look at this seal, it’s off… This thing’s probably fake.”

Clara left the office like a ghost, her mind blank. Just then, her phone rang.

“Miss Walsh? Hello, I’m your father’s lawyer. May I ask if you’re able to come to Jun Cheng Law Office and sign the asset inheritance papers?”

What kind of scam is this? Clara was about to hang up, but the voice added, “Your mother’s name is Evelyn Walsh. She left you at the city orphanage twenty years ago. After verification, you’ve been confirmed as the only biological child of Patrick Donovan, the late richest man in Haishi.”

Clara stood frozen where she was—completely stunned. Then she turned around and went straight to meet the lawyer.

And there, she heard the wildest thing she’d ever been told in her life.Her biological father, Patrick Donovan, was a top-tier tycoon. He had passed away last month, leaving behind stocks, real estate, and companies worth over a hundred billion—and she turned out to be his only biological daughter.

While her head was still spinning, the lawyer suddenly asked, “Are you married? Any kids?”

Richard Fraser’s face flashed in Clara Walsh’s mind like a slap.

Thinking of that torn-up fake marriage certificate in her bag, she tightened her grip on the pen and said, “Give me two hours. I need to clear something up first.”

She walked out of the law firm and headed straight for Richard’s company.

Outside his office, the door was left ajar. Just as she raised her hand to push it open, a sultry, feminine voice drifted out:

“Richard, it’s been five years since we got married. When are you going to make it official?”

Clara froze, every cell in her body on edge.

There was no mistaking that voice—it belonged to none other than Lydia Watson, their old college advisor.

Lydia was six years older than Richard, but aside from the age gap, she was basically the definition of flawless—gorgeous face, killer body.

Back in school, Lydia was insanely popular. Guys, girls, everyone liked her. She was practically the poster girl for ideal advisors.

Clara held her breath, barely blinking. Next came Richard’s familiar voice, gentle and with that magnetic tone she used to find comforting:

“The company’s about to go public. We still need her to handle a lot. And don’t forget, Grandpa's will said you weren’t allowed in the house. If we go public now and my grandma gives you a hard time, I— I’d hate to see you get hurt...”Clara Walsh felt a loud ring explode in her ears. She shot her hand up, covering her mouth tightly, barely managing to swallow the sobs threatening to escape.

That torn-up fake marriage certificate—she had carefully pieced it back together like it was something precious, then tucked it into her bag like it meant the world.

Turns out, all along, she was just the clueless idiot caught up in a lie.

Clara stormed out of the office and quickly dialed a number. She took a deep breath, her voice calm to the point of sounding like someone else.

"Mr. Wright, I’m ready to sign the inheritance papers now."

"And just to be clear, I’m currently single, no kids. So the whole estate comes to me."

After wrapping up the paperwork, Clara drove home. But her mind was so out of it on the way that she ended up rear-ended in traffic. Her forehead got a small cut.

After getting bandaged up in the ER, something clicked in her brain, and she made a stop by the gynecology department.

When she finally got her test results, her last bit of hope crumbled.

"You’re saying... there’s nothing wrong with my uterus, right?" she asked.

"Exactly. Your results are completely normal. You’re in good health," the doctor confirmed.

"So I can get pregnant?"

"Absolutely."

"And it doesn’t affect... intimacy either?"

At that, the older female doctor, who looked like she’s seen it all, still seemed a bit awkward as she replied, "That's kind of obvious, isn’t it?"Back when they did the premarital checkup, Richard Fraser held her medical report in his hand and told her she had a serious uterine condition—she couldn’t get pregnant, and even regular intimacy might cause permanent damage to her health.

“Even so, I’m still marrying you.” He had gripped her hand tight, eyes full of love and certainty. “You’re the one I’ve chosen for life.”

That one sentence became her whole reason to hang in there, even when his family threw a fit.

She’d seen his father smash a teacup in rage, yelling, “You’re bringing home a woman who can’t carry on the family line?”

She’d also overheard his mother break down in tears during a family gathering, sobbing to relatives, “Richard’s totally lost his mind over that girl.”

Each time, he’d just laugh it off and tell her, “Ignore them. As long as I’m here, none of that matters.”

But over those two years, the things his mom said—like calling her a “useless hen,” or sneering, “Can’t even give us one child, what good is she?”—got stuck in her head. They were like thorns, digging in, keeping her up crying night after night.

*

When Clara Walsh got into a car accident, Richard showed up at the hospital in no time.

He rushed in wearing a white shirt, tall and in a hurry. Just seeing him made Clara’s mind flash back to the six years they’d known each other.

They’d first met in Lydia Watson’s office—she was just dropping off some papers for a classmate. Richard had been there talking with Lydia. When he looked up and caught her eyes, he gave her a polite nod, didn’t say much.

Then came four years of him chasing her like a man on a mission.Richard Fraser had always been the school heartthrob—handsome, smart as hell, and came from a loaded family.

On top of that, he didn’t play hard to get. He went all in when he liked someone, and he had that gentle charm that made it nearly impossible for girls to say no.

Clara Walsh was no exception.

Even though she’d grown up alone and kept to herself most of the time, her cold shell cracked under his full-on, affectionate pursuit.

Richard had been talking to her for a while, but Clara barely responded. He figured she was still in shock and instinctively reached out to pull her into his arms. The next second, Clara shoved him away like she’d touched something repulsive and stood up.

"Let’s go."

She dropped the words flatly and walked right past him.

That chest that used to feel so warm and safe now made her stomach turn.

Back in the car, Richard kept glancing at her, worried.

"What happened? You’re usually super careful driving, did something freak you out today?"

"..."

Clara didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed fixed on her palm, where that blinding diamond ring gleamed painfully bright.

She ignored him, and Richard didn’t push it. Instead, he naturally reached over to hold her hand.

But she dodged him again.

"What, giving me the cold shoulder now? Okay, fine. If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. We’ve got a guest at home tonight. I told the housekeeper to make all your favorite dishes. Thought maybe it’d cheer you up a bit."Richard Fraser was being unusually gentle, but the softer he acted, the harder it was for Clara Walsh to hold back a grin.

“Come on, don’t be mad anymore. Once this busy stretch is over, I swear I’ll spend more time with you. The company’s going public soon—things have just been insane lately.”

He thought she’d finally eased up, so he chuckled too.

“Yeah, I’m over the moon,” Clara replied, tone light but clearly layered. “My life’s been one wild ride.”

Richard didn't catch the irony at all.

Their mansion sat in the most expensive part of Haishi—Binjiang Garden. The villa sprawled over 500 square meters, all of it built on Clara giving up her career after college and grinding with him to get the company rolling.

Just as they got home, Clara heard laughter drifting from upstairs.

A boy’s voice mixed with a soft, sweet woman’s laugh.

The little boy was Matthew Fraser, the child she and Richard adopted right after getting married. He was five now.

Clara looked up and, unsurprisingly, spotted Lydia Watson—someone she hadn’t seen in five years.

Lydia wore a teal knit dress, hair in big loose waves. Even though she was past thirty, her face still looked like it belonged to someone fresh out of college, and she had this graceful charm to her every move.

“Clara, guess who’s here?”

Richard’s voice broke in, deep and filled with excitement.

For the first time, Clara realized just how animated he could sound.He’d never been this riled up before, no matter how nice or gentle he was to her normally.

This wasn't just tenderness—it was raw, instinctive desire.

“Ms. Watson?” Clara Walsh raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised.

But inside, she was practically nauseous.

Lydia Watson looked all proper and polished now, completely different from the flirty mess she had seen in the office earlier.

“It’s been a while, Clara,” Lydia said cheerfully, quickly taking Matthew Fraser’s hand and coming downstairs to greet her.

Clara’s eyes shifted to Matthew.

Not long after she and Richard Fraser got married, he’d brought up adopting a little boy from the orphanage she used to volunteer at. He said it would ease the pressure from his parents about them having a child of their own.

Clara had thought he was doing it for her. So she agreed.

But raising Matthew over the past two years had been a nightmare.

The kid had a major attitude and would throw things at her whenever he got upset. It was clear he had some serious resentment toward her.

Worst of all, one time right in front of her, Matthew had demanded that Richard give him back his real mom.

Clara had lost her temper and even brought up giving up custody, but every time, Richard would talk her out of it.He used to say Matthew was pitiful for not having a mom, told Clara she should cut him some slack. Even made her think of how she’d been abandoned by her own parents.

But now, seeing Matthew clinging tightly to Lydia’s hand, and thinking back on all those things Richard had done to her, everything suddenly clicked.

They’d been married for five years. Matthew was five.

The Fraser family didn’t want Lydia in the picture, so... Richard had used her as a cover, brought her in to play maid and shield?

During dinner, Richard and Matthew kept piling food onto Lydia’s plate, chatting away like one big happy family. Meanwhile, Clara sat there eating in silence, totally out of place.

“Clara,” Richard said gently, finally putting his chopsticks down. “Lydia’s been working on a parenting book lately and needs a quiet place to write. Work’s been hectic for both of us, so I thought…”

Perfect timing, he thought.

“I thought maybe Lydia could stay with us for a while. She could help out with Matthew, and honestly, he’s really fond of her.”

Seriously?

Five years of sneaking around wasn't enough? Now they wanted to make it official and move her in?

Clara acted like she didn’t hear him, just kept eating slowly, calmly.

The room went silent.

Richard looked a little flustered and lowered his voice. “Clara, I’m talking to you.”

Clink. Clara set her bowl down.Before Clara could even say anything, Lydia quickly jumped in, her voice full of apology.

"I'm really sorry. This is all my fault. I didn't mean to make things awkward for everyone. Clara, Richard was just thinking out loud. He knows how much you're juggling—your job, the house, taking care of Matthew—it’s exhausting. He just thought maybe I could pitch in a bit..."

"I don’t care! I want Aunt Lydia to stay!"

Before she could even finish, Matthew, sitting next to Lydia, threw a fit.

He didn’t hesitate—flung his chopsticks on the table and slammed his hands down hard.

"Matthew, stop it—"

"Matthew, mind your manners!"

Lydia rushed to calm him down, but her voice clashed with Clara’s instinctive scolding at the same time.

Matthew shot Clara a fierce glare, then, completely losing it, grabbed his cup and flung the water straight at her—