The Neglected Wife's Secret: Genius Designer Aria

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 665 | Released on: 22/01/2026

than peaceful. Felicity kicked off her heels near the door, leaving them where they fell-one uprigh

rarely drank. She pulled out ingredients mechanically. Tonight was the anniversary. She would cook his favorite meal. Beef Wellington. It was c

rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the knife again

r-to-ceiling windows into a glittering grid of lights. The Beef

the microwave

evator

d Chandler walked into the kitchen. He was loosening his tie, pulling the silk knot free with

xpression didn't change. There was no guilt,

till up,"

licity said softly.

sing the hours of work with

back. The broad shoulders, the tailored suit that cost more than most people

ollow

rt, tossing it onto the ar

the news toda

in his back tense, locking up. Th

dle, Felicity. I don

against the warmth of his back. It was a desperate move. She knew it. She needed to

ildren, Garold?

ent

ut to pry them apart. He pulled her arms from his

olor of steel, and just as hard. There was

h you,"

ave any heat. They

s if he had physically shove

ked shut. A moment later, the sound of the shower started-a ru

The finality of it settled over

congealed and sad. She picked up the plate and scraped the entire meal

er from the tap. Her hand was ste

o in. instead, she went down the hall to the gue

The click was loud in

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

The Neglected Wife's Secret: Genius Designer Aria

Gu Mumu Modern

“I sat in the sterile silence of a VIP fertility clinic, clutching my Chanel purse and praying for good news after three years of trying for a baby. But as the doctor told me my body was "pristine," my phone lit up with a Page Six headline: "Garold Chandler Spotted with Mystery Woman at OB-GYN-Heir on the Way?" The "mystery woman" was Jenilee Shaw, and the man in the charcoal suit was my husband. That night, I waited up to show him the news, but he didn't even offer an apology. When I asked if he ever wanted children, he pried my hands off him and looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "Not with you," he said, before walking away to take a shower. I packed my bags and left a divorce agreement on his nightstand, but Garold wasn't about to let his "perfect" wife go that easily. He shredded the papers and froze every one of my credit cards, leaving me stranded with forty dollars and a crumbling family estate. He even mocked me when I accidentally texted him for a loan, telling me to come home and beg for my allowance like a child. He thought he had me cornered, but he forgot one thing: I wasn't just his trophy wife. Years ago, I was "Aria," the anonymous design genius the fashion world had been hunting for. I didn't need his money-I had a secret offshore account and a lead designer job at his biggest rival. As I walked into Twelve Bridges for my first day, I ran into his mistress and smiled. "Keep him," I told her. "I'm bored of the three-minute disappointments."”