The Tycoon’s Secret Child and the Fiancée Who Stole My Face

Six years ago, when he left without a trace, I found myself pregnant and alone. I gave birth to my daughter by myself, determined to give her a complete family someday. I channeled my energy into my career, hoping to eventually marry a good man. When I saw him again, it was across the negotiation table. He was now the head of Ross Enterprises, while I was just a modest supplier. Years ago, he was ill, secluded in his room, and now he didn’t remember me at all. My eyes lingered on the faded friendship bracelet on his left wrist. At the gala that night, his fiancée stood beside him, gazing at him with a face eerily similar to mine. Watching their harmonious and tender interaction, I quietly turned to leave. His voice stopped me in my tracks, "Don't you dare walk away!"

Before the negotiation started, my assistant quickly looked up the latest news about him for me. "Zahir Ross, a relative by birth, returned to the family six years ago. There's a rumor he suffers from a health condition and has always been sidelined. He came to power a year ago. He's about to marry the Ross heiress." Hearing his name was a shock that left me frozen, my mind blank. The paparazzi photos were crystal clear. What should have been financial news was dominating the entertainment headlines. Not one for celebrity gossip, words like 'elite,' 'prodigy,' 'heiress' felt like needles stabbing my eyes.

The negotiation took place at a five-star hotel. The hallway was narrow, and my assistant nudged me several times, drawing my attention away from the news on the tablet to the far end of the corridor. Zahir Ross strode toward us, no longer the frail, hunched figure from six years ago; now he was strong and upright. His sharp features and cool aloofness sent chills down my spine. Waylon Franklin, my top supplier, tried to introduce me, maybe to give me a leg up in front of the client. His eyes lowered indifferently; he clearly did not recognize me. I nodded stiffly and entered the conference room, my heart pounding so loudly it threatened to betray my composure. His faint, fresh cologne was unchanged.

Back then, he was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis, spending his days hunched over. Sensitive to light, he lay in a dim room. Alongside his illness, his father refused to acknowledge him, while his mother abandoned him. From the moment we met until we parted, he never really left that room and never saw my face clearly. Meanwhile, I've come to know the world for what it is—far removed from the naive girl I once was. Not recognizing me was a blessing. It spared me the complications and allowed me to focus on providing for my daughter.

Throughout the negotiation, he absentmindedly touched the friendship bracelet on his left wrist, just like before. Once the meeting concluded, we headed to the banquet hall for a buffet, eager to satisfy our hunger.