The Neglected Wife's Secret: Genius Designer Aria

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 558 | Released on: 22/01/2026

e convertible top was down, and Chantelle was drivin

le yelled over the wind. "I ca

," Felicity said, star

y an hour later. It was a chrome-and-neon relic that smell

into a milkshake. "Jenilee was seen at Bergdorf'

surprisingly hungry. "Let her

Fel? You have no

Felicity said. "And

ve Br

e. "The fashion conglomerate

ve an

the coast. The GPS led them down a gravel road that hadn't been pav

Pond E

tting empty for five years. The house loomed in the darknes

ed, looking at the house with distaste.

said. "It's the only t

t groaned in protest. Chantelle helped her carry the

e where I am," Fe

me if you get mur

taillights disappea

flipped a switch. Nothing. She tried another. A lamp in the corner flickered to life, castin

t clouds erupted, making her cough.

aucet. The pipes groaned, shuddered, and

ing water. No f

e battery was at 40%. She tethered it to her

Aria

rom: Monica Vane, Creative

equest for

ital submission. It is... intriguing

ped a reply

ng her coat over her as a blanket. The house creaked around

in three years, she d

owed down, idled for a moment, and

Chapter End

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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."”