The Neglected Wife's Secret: Genius Designer Aria

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 575 | Released on: 22/01/2026

nforgiving. It highlighted the dust motes dancing i

She wore a sharp navy suit, her hair pulled back into a

he saw her. He blinked, clearly surprised to see her up, dressed, and s

ered, walking toward the k

Garold," Fe

ok at her, a frown creasing

e glass table. It slid smoothly, s

He walked over and picked it up. "What is this? Anoth

t," Felicity said. Her v

e let out a scoff, a sound of pure disbelief. He tos

want a higher allowance, just ask.

She met his gaze.

r money, Garold.

he used his height now, looming over her. It was a tact

ng an octave. "The contract. My family. You don't

smile. It was a cold curve of he

father to Jenilee's child. I'm s

d. "I told you to sto

vading his personal space. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "

ade of red. His jaw clenched so h

you say?"

e minutes isn't exactly a marathon, darling. Maybe Jenilee ins

he glass table. The vase of lilie

o unassailable, had been pricked. He looke

ud, shrill, cutting through the tension. It w

n lit up.

Felicity. The anger in his eyes warred

the counter. "Better answ

finger at her.

the phone, answering i

Chapter End

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The Neglected Wife's Secret: Genius Designer Aria

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“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."”