His Ex-Wife’s Secret Baby:The Billionaire Who Lied About Our Son

Molly Harding had just stepped out of her car at the jewelry auction in Harding Arts District when she spotted her husband at the entrance—with another woman on his arm.

Miles Vance stood there chatting with someone, his mistress pressed close to his side. She was beautiful, strikingly so, with a purity about her that seemed almost ethereal. Like moonlight given form.

Molly had always known her husband had exacting tastes. She just hadn't realized how well he could pick them.

She stared longer than she meant to, until her eyes began to sting.

Her friend squeezed her arm, voice soft with concern. "Don't go in. I'll bid for you."

Molly managed a thin smile. Catching your husband with his mistress wasn't exactly earth-shattering news.

Besides, Miles had already noticed her. His gaze swept over her with the same indifference he might show a stranger—no embarrassment, no discomfort, just a cold flicker of acknowledgment before he looked away.

He had never treated her like a wife. She was used to it by now.

Molly walked inside with her friend and found her seat. As luck would have it, Miles was directly in front of her, one row up. The woman leaned into his shoulder like she belonged there.

Molly forced herself to look past them. She was here for one thing only: a brooch she'd previewed twice already, hoping to win it for her mother.

It was a vintage piece—two feathers overlapping, one large and one small, crafted from gold, diamonds, and turquoise. Simple and elegant, yet utterly breathtaking.

The bidding climbed steadily. The wealthy socialites in attendance seemed to sense how much Molly wanted it. Out of respect for the young CEO of Breeze Fashion, they backed off one by one.

At six point two million dollars, the auctioneer raised his gavel—

And the woman draped over Miles lifted her paddle.

Molly's brow furrowed. Her friend, indignant on her behalf, immediately countered.

Back and forth they went, the price soaring to nine million.

Every time her friend bid, that woman followed.

Molly's expression darkened. She pulled out her phone and sent Miles a message: I want this brooch.

She watched him glance at his screen, then slip the phone back into his pocket without a word. He made no move to stop his mistress.

Molly inhaled slowly and typed again: This brooch means everything to me.

The message went through. Miles didn't look at his phone again.

Her hope crumbled with each passing second.

They had been married for three years. One week after signing the marriage certificate, he'd left for overseas. He came back a handful of times each year, and she was always the last to know.

Like today. If she hadn't stumbled upon him here, she would have assumed he was still abroad.

A husband who couldn't be bothered to acknowledge her existence—and she'd actually hoped he would help her?

She laughed bitterly at herself, then switched contacts and sent another message.

Moments later, Miles stood and stepped away to take a call. When he returned, his gaze cut toward her like a blade.

Molly ignored it. The brooch had belonged to her father. She'd had no choice but to call her mother-in-law and ask her to intervene—to pressure Miles into letting her have it.

But things didn't go as planned.

The moment Miles sat back down, his mistress called out a new bid: twenty million dollars.

Her friend fumed, ready to counter, but Molly stopped her, eyes rimmed with red.

In Harbor City, who could outspend the third son of the Vance family?

She had grown accustomed to his coldness, his neglect. But still—her heart felt like it was being torn apart.

After the auction ended, Molly found Miles.

She kept her voice low, her pride swallowed. "Can I have the brooch? I'll pay double what you bid."

Miles was tall, and he looked down at her with detached indifference.

Molly was beautiful—dark hair falling loose around her shoulders, skin pale as porcelain. The way she tilted her chin up, eyes bright with quiet desperation, could easily stir pity in anyone watching.

It was the same look she'd worn three years ago when she'd turned to his parents and said, "I want Miles Vance. Is that possible?"

The chill in his eyes deepened. "Once was enough."

The color drained from Molly's face. Once was enough...

Did he think today was the same as three years ago? That she was trying to steal something from this woman, just like she'd supposedly stolen him?

"That's not—"

Miles cut her off, uninterested in explanations. He accepted the jewelry case from the auction staff and turned to leave.

Molly panicked, grabbing his arm. "It belonged to my father—"

His gaze dropped to her fingers on his sleeve. The coldness there ran bone-deep, laced with undisguised contempt.

"Let go."

Molly remembered the day they'd signed their marriage certificate.

The moment she'd held that document in her hands, she'd wanted to spin in circles from sheer happiness. But he had looked at her with those same eyes and said, "Other than this piece of paper, you will get nothing from me."

Miles Vance was a man of his word.

Molly wanted to release him. But she had searched for this brooch for so long—just to give her mother something to hold onto.

She forced down the ache in her chest and pleaded, "Miles, I'm begging you..."

He shook her hand off. "Didn't I once beg you too, Ms. Harding?"