The Wife In Disguise Chinese Drama

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

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The royal chambers were thick with tension as the queen writhed on the birthing bed, sweat beading on her brow. Around her, a dozen maids and midwives hustled in a flurry of frantic whispers, hands shaking as they tried to ease her through the agonizing labor. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting shadows across the rich tapestries that adorned the walls. The heavy scent of incense lingered in the air, meant to calm, but it only seemed to heighten the sense of urgency.

"Your Majesty," one of the midwives murmured, her voice trembling. "Push, just a little more, Your Majesty. The baby is coming."

The queen, her face pale and contorted in pain, gripped the sides of the bed. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and her eyes squeezed shut as another wave of agony coursed through her. She was exhausted, but there was no turning back now.

"I... I can't...!" she cried, her voice breaking.

"You can, Your Majesty," another midwife urged, kneeling at the foot of the bed, wiping the queen's sweat-soaked brow. "The prince will be born soon. You must push."

With a guttural cry, the queen heaved her body forward, summoning every ounce of strength. There was a sharp, almost sickening sound, and then the silence that followed was pregnant with anticipation.

The baby emerged.

The room fell into a stunned quiet as the child was swiftly placed into the waiting hands of the midwife. The queen's heart raced, hope glimmering through the haze of pain, but that hope shattered in an instant.

The child... a boy, yes, but his skin was oddly pale, almost translucent, and there was something wrong with his tiny limbs, twisted in a way that made the queen's breath catch in her throat. A sharp cry echoed through the room, but it was not the sound of a healthy infant.

"Your Majesty, the child is... different," one of the midwives whispered, her voice tinged with dread.

The queen's face drained of color as she looked upon her son, his eyes shut tight, his frail form trembling.

"No!" she cried out, her voice raw, her heart sinking. "No! Not this...!"

And then, as if fate had decided to test her resolve further, another wave of pain surged through her. She gasped, her body trembling violently.

"Another?" a maid gasped, her eyes wide in disbelief.

The queen's face contorted once more, and through gritted teeth, she gave a sharp command, her voice filled with a deep, raw desperation.

"Leave... everyone leave," she ordered, her voice thick with emotion. "Except my daughter... and Lady Evelyn. The rest of you-OUT!"

The midwives hesitated, fear and confusion flickering across their faces, but the queen's gaze was fierce. Slowly, they began to file out of the room, leaving only her daughter, a girl of nine, and Lady Evelyn, the maid she trusted most.

The queen clutched the bedposts, her knuckles white, her eyes wide with both pain and fear. She could feel the second child moving, struggling to make its way into the world.

With a final scream, the second child was born.

It was a girl.

The queen's eyes flickered over her newborn daughter-her fragile, delicate form-and her heart fell. The room, now eerily silent save for the newborn's quiet cries, felt as though the very air had thickened.

Her disappointment was so sharp, it was almost physical. She knew the consequences of this moment. A girl. Not a boy. Not the heir the kingdom needed.

She turned her tear-filled gaze to her daughter, who stood quietly by her side, eyes wide with understanding and sadness. "You must carry the burden now," the queen murmured hoarsely, her voice barely a whisper.

The girl, standing at the edge of womanhood, nodded quietly, knowing that the queen's fate had now been sealed.

*********

Two weeks earlier

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