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The Neglected Wife Is A Hidden Genius

Chapter 8 

Word Count: 395    |    Released on: 08/05/2026

d the angle. Everyone wanted somet

"No game. I just do

t a whiff of her scent-solvents and lin

," she sa

hen turned and walked toward his bedr

r code had worked. The senior appraiser was practically begging for a private viewing, offering to meet anywhe

she walked out of the elevator into the lobby,

morning sun. The feeling of dread hit Iona like a phys

them. Kevan gave

er day. That ring is dangerous. Get rid of it. The historical precedent I mentioned

or incident. Kevan stepped between t

to help," sh

Kevan snapped. "Get in th

m drive away. She had done her duty. She hailed

s. "A Rust Belt girl lecturing us

his finger. "Sir, the eleva

aid firmly. "There's n

. The private elevator was waiting. They

ers, his heart pounding. He tho

tor began

ered. A high-pitched scree

ervousness

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The Neglected Wife Is A Hidden Genius
The Neglected Wife Is A Hidden Genius
“I woke up in the ICU, my lungs still burning from the freezing river water. Just outside the cracked door, I heard my adoptive family talking. That's when the horrifying realization hit me: my drowning wasn't an accident. My adoptive mother had deliberately pried my fingers off the slippery rocks and pushed me in. "When is she going to wake up? This Rust Belt trash always finds a way to ruin our important moments." "If she's mentally unstable, we should just send her to that facility in the Hamptons and have her sign the inheritance waiver." My father and brothers coldly plotted my removal, while my fiancé, Eric, laughed flirtatiously with my younger sister. He had his arm around her waist, completely unbothered by the fact that I was fighting for my life after he had just scammed me out of half a million dollars. For ten years, I had smiled, obeyed, and shrunk myself to fit into their gilded cage, desperate for a sliver of their love. I couldn't understand how a decade of absolute devotion was met with calculated murder and such casual, cruel betrayal. But the pathetic, desperate Iona died in that icy water. As the suppressed memories of my true identity-"Silas", a master art restorer possessing centuries of dangerous, hidden knowledge-flooded my mind, my tears stopped. I picked up the phone, secured a marriage of convenience with the most powerful man in New York, and began my counterattack.”