The Ugly Wife Went Viral

I, Serena Sterling, was infamous in our social circle for being ugly.

Heavy bangs that hid my eyes, a face scattered with freckles, and clothes that never quite fit right made me unpleasant to look at.

And yet, somehow, this very appearance caught Adrian Blackwood's attention.

Even under pressure from his family, even as people mocked him for having a "taste for the ugly," he still insisted on marrying me.

In the three years that followed, he spoiled me into becoming the most envied wife in our circle.

I thought it was real love—the kind that saw past appearances and reached the soul.

Until the day I stumbled upon ninety-nine love letters in his study—and a trust document bearing another woman's name.

Only then did I realize that all his devotion had been nothing but a lie—one that turned me into a shield for the woman he truly loved.

He had never loved me.

Now that he had secured his position in the Blackwood family, he was finally free to be with her.

I didn't argue. I handed him the divorce papers, wiped away the disguise that had made me "ugly," and disappeared from his life.

......

I sat in the study, my whole body still trembling.

Until today, I had truly believed I'd found a love that went beyond appearances and reached the soul.

That belief shattered the moment I found the unlocked file sitting in front of me.

Ninety-nine letters. Every word filled with devotion.

Every single one began the same way. "To my dearest Vivian Mercer."

In them, Adrian confessed his guilt for not being able to give her a stable life, his regret over marrying someone else just to protect her, and his longing for the day he would fully control the Blackwood family and finally be with her.

Every word cut into me like a blade.

Only then did it hit me—his heart had always belonged to someone else.

Marrying me had never been about love. I was just a convenient shield against the open and hidden attacks within his family.

All the humiliation, the threats, the kidnapping, the fear I endured—none of it was meant for me. I had been taking the hit for another woman.

The other document was a notarized trust agreement, listing every asset Adrian owned—real estate, shares, cash—line after line.

Every beneficiary name was the same. Vivian.

The date on it was three years ago—the day before our wedding.

That same day, I had signed a document as well.

Mine was a prenuptial agreement stating clearly that I had no claim to any of the Blackwood family's assets.

Back then, Adrian had told me the family was too complicated, that he didn't want me dragged into it.

And I believed him.

I'd even thought it was considerate of him.

The next page was a pregnancy report.

The name on it was still Vivian. The date—last week.

A chill spread through me. I remembered how, early in our marriage, Adrian had