The Blind Billionaire's Scandalous Fake Wife

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 572 | Released on: 30/01/2026

ing through her jeans. She ignored it. She focused on t

oice was unrecognizable from the shrill tone she'd used with Ai

't move. "D

. Baritone. It vi

aid unless you give her shares in the Eaton Group, she's going

er her mouth to stifle a gasp. The sheer aud

the armrest of his chair.

trailed off, disgu

oser to him, "that she's not really amnesiac. It's a

bitter laugh escaped him. "Sh

It was possessive. Intimate. "Don't w

e was inches from his. S

l roar. That was her husband. Her target. Her territory. She didn't remember h

legs screamed, but she

dle of the glass do

wall with a crash that

knocking into the tea table. Hot w

as fast. His head cocked, his ears

there?"

ke exhaust fumes and hospital soap. She was bleed

Her voice was raspy but loud. "T

ned of color. "Ains

s voice dropped. I

straight toward him. Her boots lef

his face. The dark glasses hid his eyes, but th

at his unseeing face. "I didn't threaten to go to

Kirstie. "Sh

amed, backing away. "She

red down the hallway l

ll. He didn't yell. He t

t the glass wall. "But before they drag me out, I have enough time to pour that po

sped. "You

," Ains

Chapter End

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The Blind Billionaire's Scandalous Fake Wife

Yuda Xiaojie Modern

“I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a throat like sandpaper and eyelids that felt sewn shut. I expected to see the water-stained ceiling of my tiny Queens apartment, but instead, I found myself tethered to expensive machines in a room smelling of funeral lilies. The nurse didn't call me Ainsley Bentley; she called me Mrs. Eaton, and she told me the year was 2024. Before I could process the four-year gap in my memory, the Eaton matriarch stormed in, calling me a "little actress" and throwing a newspaper at my legs. The headline screamed that I was a scandalous commoner wife who had just caused a DUI crash. Within hours, a ruthless lawyer named Preston was at my bedside, demanding I sign a separation agreement that stripped me of everything. He showed me grainy photos of me with another man, accusing me of infidelity and "endangering the family reputation." My so-called best friend, Kirstie, even tried to bribe me with fifty thousand dollars to flee to Paris, whispering that my husband was an unstable monster who would destroy me. When I finally confronted my husband Carson, the billionaire "Blind Prophet of Wall Street," he looked at me with chilling indifference through his dark glasses. He was convinced I had sold his location to the paparazzi for a tabloid payout, betraying him at his most vulnerable moment. I didn't understand any of it. I didn't remember the marriage, the scandals, or the luxury. But when I looked in the mirror, I found a jagged, violent scar running down my back-a "war wound" that didn't belong to a yoga instructor. I realized I knew how to cite matrimonial law by heart and how to neutralize a physical threat with a single move. "I'm staying," I told the family of sharks as I stood my ground in their massive estate. I refused to sign the papers. Instead, I found a micro SD card hidden in a hollowed-out lipstick and realized I wasn't just a victim of a crash. I was a variable they hadn't accounted for, and I was going to find out exactly who I was before they could finish what they started.”