Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: Now Shine

My mother was dying, her last wish to see the man I'd secretly married three years ago. But as I frantically called his phone, which went straight to voicemail, he was busy marrying my childhood rival in a lavish ceremony right outside the hospital.

He publicly denied knowing me, his wife of three years, the secret benefactor who built his entire tech empire from the ground up.

To humiliate me further, he allowed his new bride to broadcast a video of my deepest, most private trauma to all their wedding guests, dismissing my pain as "gossip."

My mother died heartbroken from his betrayal.

But they made a fatal mistake. They thought I was just a poor, pathetic wife they could discard.

They didn't know I was the anonymous, globally feared tech mogul they'd been trying to impress all along. And I just gave my second-in-command a single order: "Burn it all down."

Chapter 1

Emma Hardy POV:

My mother was dying, her last wish to meet the man I' d secretly married three years ago. But his phone went straight to voicemail, just as Aisha Anthony, my childhood rival, smirked and pointed to the private helicopter landing nearby. "That' s for my sister, Galilea's, wedding," she gloated, "to a tech mogul. Looks like your 'rich husband' isn't coming for you after all."

For three long years, I' d been Bryce Moses' s wife. My existence was a secret. His family? They didn't know me. His public circle? Invisible. Every attempt I made to introduce him to my mother, to let her see the man who supposedly made me happy, was met with a last-minute "work emergency." He always had a reason, a crucial meeting, a sudden flight.

It was a pattern. A cruel, repetitive dance where I was always left waiting.

Now, my mother lay frail in the hospital bed, her breath shallow. Her eyes, usually so bright, held a desperate plea. "Emma," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "My dear girl. I just want... to meet him. Your husband. Before I go."

A cold dread seeped into my bones. This was it. The final, heartbreaking request.

I scrambled, my fingers fumbling with my phone. Bryce. I had to reach Bryce. He had to be here. This was non-negotiable.

I called once. Straight to voicemail.

I called twice. Voicemail again.

A third time. The same.

My frantic calls went unanswered, swallowed by the silence on the other end.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape. I stood by my mother's bedside, tears streaming down my face. My helpless gaze swept over the sterile hospital room, then out the window.

That's when I saw her. Aisha Anthony. Leaning against her luxury car, a venomous smile painted on her face. Her eyes, sharp and predatory, locked onto mine.

"Well, well, well," Aisha drawled, sauntering closer. Her voice, usually grating, was now laced with an extra layer of mockery. "Look who it is. Still clinging to that old