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His Accidental Wife Is A Secret Tycoon

Jun Wen

5.0

Modern

10 Chapters

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Jaden's abusive foster parents forced her to marry a 62-year-old criminal to pay off their underground gambling debts. They treated her like human trafficking merchandise with a price tag. But the old man never made it to City Hall. Due to a chaotic mix-up in the lobby, Jaden accidentally signed the marriage certificate with the wrong man-Constantine Kensington, the ruthless billionaire CEO of the Kensington Group. When Constantine discovered the error, his eyes burned with absolute contempt. He assumed Jaden was a pathetic, gold-digging scammer who had deliberately swapped places to trap him. Instead of an annulment, he dragged her into his manor to lock her in and make her regret ever learning his name. He cut off her credit lines, threw a degrading minimum-wage internship contract at her face, and demanded she follow his draconian rules. "We sleep in separate rooms. You do not touch me. You do not cross the line," Constantine warned, his voice dripping with venom. He looked at her like she was a desperate, uneducated orphan begging for scraps. He truly believed she was just a worthless pawn entirely at his mercy, struggling to survive in his elite world. What the arrogant CEO didn't know was that the girl in the oversized hoodie was actually "King," the legendary dark web hacker who had just shorted a global conglomerate for five billion dollars right from his own guest room. Jaden looked at the pathetic ten-million-dollar divorce payoff he offered, let out a mocking smirk, and signed the contract. She would gladly use his ridiculous billionaire title as her perfect invisible shield.

His Accidental Wife Is A Secret Tycoon Chapter 1

Jaden Carpenter leaned her weight against the cold marble pillar of the New York City Hall lobby. She pulled her black baseball cap lower, letting the shadow hide her eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights.

Heavy metal music blasted through her earbuds. The chaotic wall of sound perfectly drowned out the miserable arguments of the couples lining up for divorce to her left.

Her phone vibrated violently against her thigh.

She pulled it from her leather jacket pocket. Tammy. Her foster mother.

Jaden didn't even blink. She swiped her thumb across the screen, killing the call, and shoved the phone back into her pocket. She pushed off the pillar and walked toward window number three, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. She had spent years building her underground empire, but there was one thing she couldn't buy-a clean, legal severance from the parasites who held her childhood records. This ridiculous proxy marriage was the last step in her plan to erase every trace of their control. Once the papers were signed, she would be free.

Outside the heavy glass doors, tires screeched against the pavement.

A black Maybach jerked to a halt at the curb. Constantine Kensington shoved the car door open and stepped out. His long legs carried him up the concrete steps. He checked the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.

He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, a sharp headache forming.

"Speed this up," he ordered his assistant, Arthur, without looking back.

Arthur's phone rang. The assistant's face paled. "Sir, the overseas merger-" Arthur stopped at the bottom of the steps to take the emergency call.

Constantine let out a harsh breath. He pushed through the heavy glass doors of City Hall alone. He headed straight for the VIP lane, but two people were screaming at each other, blocking the velvet rope. A woman threw a hot coffee at a man's chest.

Constantine's eyes darkened. He didn't have time for this garbage. He pivoted and strode into the regular line, his towering height parting the crowd until he stood directly in front of window number three.

The clerk behind the glass was sweating profusely, slamming his thick fingers against a frozen computer keyboard.

Constantine stepped up right next to Jaden. The air around him was freezing.

Jaden felt the sudden drop in temperature. She tilted her head slightly, catching only the sharp silhouette of a ridiculously expensive custom-tailored suit.

The clerk didn't look up. He shoved half a pastrami sandwich into his mouth and mumbled two names through the glass. Just as the syllables left his mouth, the screaming woman at the velvet rope completely lost her mind. She grabbed a heavy brass stanchion and hurled it. It smashed into the marble floor right next to window number three with a deafening, metallic crash that echoed like a gunshot through the lobby.

The words the clerk spoke mashed together in a wet, incomprehensible sound, entirely swallowed by the ringing crash and the ensuing screams.

Constantine assumed the idiot called his and Kira's names. He pulled the prepared identification documents from his inner pocket and shoved them through the slot under the glass.

Jaden, whose earbuds were already blasting heavy metal at maximum volume, hadn't heard a single syllable. She kept her chin tucked low, the brim of her baseball cap entirely obscuring her peripheral vision. She had zero desire to look at the disgusting, sixty-year-old proxy her foster parents had hired. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught only the sharp silhouette of a ridiculously expensive custom-tailored suit cuff and caught a whiff of high-end cedar cologne. Wow, she thought with mild disgust. Old Gus really dressed up and bathed in expensive perfume just to play the part of a wealthy proxy. Pathetic. She assumed the clerk called her and Gus. She pulled her ID from her jacket and tossed it through the same slot.

The clerk grabbed the cards. He swiped them through the scanner, his eyes glued to the frozen computer screen. He didn't look at their faces. He didn't check the age gap.

The printer beside him whined and ground its gears. It spit out two crisp sheets of paper bearing the City Hall letterhead. Marriage certificates.

Constantine didn't read a single word on the page. He grabbed the cheap plastic pen chained to the counter and slashed his signature across the bottom line.

He turned his head slightly toward Jaden. His voice was a low, emotionless rumble.

"I am giving this circus exactly fifteen minutes," Constantine said, his tone dripping with ice. "Once this is done, you keep your head down and stay in your lane. Don't even think about trying anything stupid."

Jaden raised one eyebrow under her cap. This proxy old Gus hired was incredibly arrogant for an errand boy.

"Whatever," Jaden muttered.

She grabbed the second certificate, dragged the pen across the paper, and signed her name in sharp, aggressive strokes. The pen tip nearly tore through the paper.

The clerk grabbed his heavy metal stamp. He slammed it down on both papers. Bang.

Legal. Binding. Done.

The clerk shoved the warm papers back through the slot.

Constantine snatched his copy. He turned on his heel, his broad shoulder slamming hard toward Jaden's as he walked away. But Jaden's body reacted before her conscious mind did. Years of grueling, lethal combat training took over. In a fraction of a second, she dropped her center of gravity, her core tightening into an immovable wall of muscle. Her heavy combat boots rooted to the tile. Instead of Jaden getting knocked aside, Constantine's shoulder slammed into her and he physically rebounded, stumbling half a step sideways. A gust of cold, cedar-scented air hit her face as he caught his balance.

Jaden's eyes went dark. She didn't even rub her shoulder. She just stared at his retreating back, a cold, clinical assessment running through her head. Terrible footwork. His center of gravity is completely off.

She snatched her copy of the certificate, crumpled it into her jacket pocket, and walked toward the exit.