My Husband Faked Our Marriage So I Destroyed His Empire Chapter 01
On the day my twentieth IVF cycle was declared a successful implantation, my husband, Adrian Whitmore, signed a share transfer agreement beside my hospital bed.
Ten percent of Whitmore Group.
And an appointment letter putting me in charge of a seven-figure project.
He held my hand and murmured that he would protect the baby in my womb no matter what.
That night, I overheard his childhood friend calling him in French.
“Adrian, are you really going to keep lying to her after putting her through IVF all these years?”
“If she finds out her marriage certificate is fake, and that you and her sister Chloe Shaw are the legally married couple, she’ll break.”
Adrian thought I was asleep. He stood with his back to me by the floor-to-ceiling window, his voice low.
“She brought this on herself. She wanted to go back to the Shaw family and take what belongs to Chloe. She even called Chloe an illegitimate daughter.”
“So I’ll make her raise Chloe’s child for the rest of her life. That’s her punishment.”
“Once the child is registered under her name, where can she run, even if she learns the truth? Without me, who will give her resources?”
“I can’t give her a real title, but as a mistress, I’ll keep her by my side for the rest of her life.”
My heart went cold. I stared into the darkness, pressing a hand over my mouth so I would not sob out loud.
He did not know that three days earlier, the doctor had told me the diagnosis was wrong.
Our twentieth embryo transfer had failed completely.
The trump card he was so proud of, the one he thought could keep me trapped, had never existed.
Tears fell onto the back of my hand, burning hot, but they were nothing compared to the dull pain in my chest.
I got up and went into the bathroom.
Then I removed Chloe from my blocked list.
Ever since I married Adrian and left the Shaw family, I had never looked at her social feed again.
She had two pinned posts.
The first was a photo of Chloe and Adrian standing in a field of flowers, fingers intertwined, kissing like lovers.
The caption read: “Day 99 of loving someone.”
It was posted on May 20, 2020.
The day before Adrian and I held our wedding.
The second post was a marriage certificate.
Caption: “Real couples don’t need ceremonies. Real love is enough.”
I zoomed in.
On the certificate, Chloe leaned against Adrian’s shoulder, both of them smiling sweetly.
The comments were full of blessings.
The more I looked at those laughing profile pictures, the more familiar they became.
Some belonged to Adrian’s friends who had attended my wedding.
One belonged to Adrian’s cousin.
My eyes stopped on the last comment.
Someone had asked Chloe, “Aren’t you being too obvious? What if your sister sees this? She’ll be hurt.”
Chloe replied, “Don’t worry. She hates me. She definitely blocked me. She’ll never see it.”
The commenter was my dad.
He had liked the post too.
All the strength drained out of me. My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a loud crack.
Footsteps hurried outside the bathroom. Through the frosted glass door, I saw Adrian’s blurred, worried silhouette.
“Evie, are you okay? Do you need me to come in?”
“Did you hurt yourself? The bathroom floor is slippery. Let me help you out.”
I picked up my phone.
“I’m fine,” I said calmly. “My hands were wet. I just lost my grip.”
How could Adrian do this to me?
Back then, my mother had spent eighteen years by my father’s side, building Shaw Group from nothing.
Everyone thought they were already husband and wife, only missing the paperwork.
But on the day they were supposed to register their marriage, my father wrote Lydia Hayes’s name in the spouse column instead.
When I turned eighteen, Lydia brought Chloe to our door, holding the only marriage certificate recognized by law, and forced my mother out.
From then on, my mother was called a homewrecker, and I was called the shameless daughter of a mistress.
My father even told my mother, “Yusheng and I are the couple the law recognizes. You stayed with me for eighteen years. Why can’t you be a little more understanding?”
My mother could not be understanding.
She fell ill. It was as if her spine had been pulled out of her body.
Overnight, everyone who used to flatter us disappeared.
Only Adrian, my childhood sweetheart, stayed.
He knelt by my mother’s hospital bed and swore he would stay with me for life.
The day he proposed, Adrian, always so calm and gentle, had red-rimmed eyes. His voice was hoarse when he thanked me for agreeing to marry him.
But later, he told his friend:
“I can’t be her legal husband, but as her lover, I’ll stay with her for the rest of my life.”
I had once decided that I would treat Adrian well for the rest of my life.
I thought my story would end differently from my parents’.
In the end, it was exactly the same.
I wiped the water off my phone and opened my chat with Grandpa.
“Grandpa, I’ve made up my mind. I want a divorce. I’ll bring Mom’s ashes back to France, return to her family, and inherit what belongs to me.”
His reply came almost instantly.
“Good. You finally see clearly. I told you Adrian was never worthy of you. In seven days, I’ll come get you myself.”
I closed my eyes, then messaged my lawyer.
“Sell all the shares and properties under my name. As soon as possible. I want the money in my account this week if you can manage it.”
“And look into the process for suing over a forged marriage certificate. I’m suing Adrian.”
My lawyer replied, “Understood.”
I turned off the bathroom light and went back to bed.
Adrian turned onto his side as usual, pulling me into his arms. Then he guided my hand to my still-flat stomach.
“Honey, tell me if something’s wrong.”
“I’m always here. You don’t have to be so strong all the time. You can trust me. You can lean on me.”
I turned away and answered softly, “Okay. I understand.”
Adrian, I already know what trusting you costs.
I will never trust you again.