Your Husband-Pampering System Is Fake, but My Billionaire Identity Is Real

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On Valentine's Day, I caught my fiancée in bed with her junior assistant.

Maureen Fox didn't show a shred of remorse. If anything, she looked completely justified.

"I'm bound to a husband-pampering system."

"The system says Dylan is my destined love. I'm only obeying fate."

"As for you, you've got two choices. Put up with it, or get lost!"

Burning with rage, I chose neither.

I kicked, and I broke Dylan Delgado's third leg.

To get revenge for Dylan.

Maureen Fox had someone sever the tendons in my hand.

I went from the surgical genius the whole medical world praised to a useless cripple.

Everyone was placing bets.

Betting whether, once I got out of the hospital, I'd take violent revenge or swallow it all for love.

What nobody expected was that after I got out, I vanished. Gone without a trace…

Five years later.

I came back for my best friend's wedding, and my real identity came out.

Maureen Fox knelt in front of me, crying, begging me to forgive her:

"Brendan, the husband-pampering system was a lie. Come back to me, let's start over, okay?"

I slid an arm around my new wife's waist and shook my head with a smile:

"Your husband-pampering system was fake. But my identity as a capital heavyweight is very real!"

1

The Imperial Grand Hotel.

Cloudport's most exclusive, most luxurious five-star hotel.

Roger Harding's wedding was being held here.

"Thought you weren't gonna show, you punk."

Roger Harding, my best friend.

Five years since we'd seen each other, and the second he laid eyes on me his eyes went red. He punched me hard in the shoulder.

I laughed.

"Come on. I promised you."

"Wherever I am, I said I'd be at your wedding on time. I came straight here from the airport."

The noisy reception fell dead silent in an instant.

A hundred pairs of eyes swung toward me all at once.

"Brendan Vance?!"

"Damn! It really is Brendan Vance!"

"Oh, this is gonna be good!"

"You hear? Maureen Fox and Dylan Delgado are here today too."

People pointed at me, whispering, hiding their laughter behind their hands.

I knew what they were thinking.

Nothing but a chance to watch me make a fool of myself.

Five years ago, the whole thing had blown up huge. Almost nobody hadn't heard about it.

Even now it was still a favorite piece of gossip people chewed over after dinner.

Before I came, Roger had given me a heads-up.

He'd even said that if it bothered me, he wouldn't let Maureen Fox and Dylan Delgado come.

I'd told him then not to bother.

Cloudport was only so big.

If not here, I'd probably run into them somewhere else.

Besides, Maureen Fox was some kind of relative of Roger's.

I couldn't have him cut off his own family just because of me.

Speak of the devil.

Right then, a startled, uncertain woman's voice came from behind me:

"Brendan?!"

I turned, slowly.

Maureen Fox stood there with her arm looped tight through Dylan Delgado's.

"Brendan, it really is you!"

"Where have you been all these years? Do you have any idea how long I looked for you? Your hand…"

She stared at me, eyes rimmed red, her voice trembling with something she couldn't hide.

Almost without thinking, she let go of Dylan Delgado's arm and stepped forward.

But the instant her fingertips were about to touch me, I took a step back.

At the same time I slid that hand, the wrist still ugly with scars, into my pocket.

I looked at her, my expression as calm as if I were looking at a stranger who had nothing to do with me.

"You're too kind, Ms. Fox. I'm nobody worth your concern. I wouldn't dare trouble you."

Ms. Fox. Polite, and cold with distance.

Her hand froze in midair, hurt written across her face.

Dylan Delgado caught the change in her, and a flash of jealous resentment shot through his eyes.

Maureen Fox and Dylan Delgado took their seats across from me.

Through the meal, she barely touched her chopsticks, just kept watching me with a complicated look.

Like she had a hundred things to say to me and didn't know where to begin.

Dylan Delgado, meanwhile, kept glaring at me with open hostility.

Roger looked apologetic.

I smiled and reassured him:

"It's fine. We'd have run into each other sooner or later. Today's your big day, go on, get back to it."

Only then did Roger leave, still not quite at ease.

In the middle of the lively reception, our table alone was terrifyingly quiet.

Aside from the occasional click of chopsticks against a plate, there was almost no sound at all.

"Brendan… these five years… where did you go? You… things haven't gone well for you, have they?"

The one asking looked at the plain jacket I was wearing, no logo anywhere on it, his eyes probing.

He'd hesitated over and over, and finally he couldn't help asking the question everyone in the room was quietly wondering.