The Shadow Wife's Secret Billionaire Baby

The champagne in the crystal flute had gone warm hours ago. It sat on the sleek, cold marble of the kitchen island, the bubbles long since dead, much like the atmosphere in the penthouse. Serena Vance stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city that never slept. Manhattan was alive, a sprawling grid of electric veins pulsating with the energy of New Year's Eve, but up here, on the forty-fifth floor, the silence was heavy enough to crush a person's lungs.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Below, the world was waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square. The television in the living room was on, the volume low, casting a flickering blue light across the minimalist furniture that Julian preferred. He hated clutter. He hated noise. He hated anything that disrupted the perfectly curated order of his life.

Serena turned her back to the window. The countdown had started on the screen. Ten. Nine. Eight. The crowd was screaming, their mouths open in joy, their breath visible in the freezing air. She felt a phantom shiver run down her spine.

Then the feed cut.

It wasn't a technical glitch. The Breaking News banner slashed across the bottom of the screen in urgent red. The camera angle shifted, moving away from the ball drop to a brightly lit ballroom uptown. Serena recognized the chandeliers immediately. It was the Metropolitan Charity Gala. She had organized the initial guest list for that event three weeks ago, but Julian had abruptly handed the final execution over to an external PR firm last week, claiming he wanted to "lighten her load." Now, the cruelty of that kindness became clear.

And there he was. Julian Sterling.

He wasn't standing at the podium giving the speech she had written for him. He was down on one knee.

Serena felt the air leave the room. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a violent, erratic rhythm that made her vision blur. The camera zoomed in. Julian was holding a black velvet box. Inside, a diamond the size of a quail egg glittered under the harsh lights. It was pink. A pink diamond.

Victoria Chase stood before him, her hands covering her mouth in a performance of shock that was Oscar-worthy. She was wearing the silver dress Serena had picked up from the stylist yesterday morning. The crowd around them erupted. The sound was deafening, even through the television speakers.

Serena took a step back, her hip bumping into the island. The champagne flute wobbled but didn't fall.

She watched as Julian slid the ring onto Victoria's finger. He stood up, his movements fluid and confident, the same way he moved in the boardroom, the same way he moved in their bed. He pulled Victoria into his arms, and she buried her face in his neck. The headline on the screen changed: Julian Sterling Proposes to Hollywood Sweetheart Victoria Chase.

A wave of nausea hit Serena so hard her knees buckled.

It wasn't