Secretly Glorious: The Wife With A Thousand Masks

The island was completely deserted.

Rain fell in blinding sheets, striking like bullets, while waves battered the rocks with the heavy, rhythmic thud of war drums.

Kneeling in the downpour, Arielle Moore painstakingly whittled a piece of wood with a dagger. Water streamed down her face, but she barely seemed to notice.

Ten years. It had been ten long years since she'd lost all contact with her family.

And just when she had finally tracked down the Southalls-just as she was closing in on the truth behind her mother's death and her own kidnapping-the very people who claimed they were "bringing her home" had tried to kill her instead.

She had survived.

They had not.

But the ship had sunk, leaving her washed ashore on this godforsaken island.

Seven days had passed since then. No sign of life. Not a single boat on the horizon.

Fortunately, the island provided just enough to survive: wood, foraging, and the raw strength to begin building a makeshift raft. She had barely started carving the oars when the sky unleashed its fury.

Standing up to stretch her aching muscles, her gaze caught a dark shape slumped near the rocks.

Her chest tightened.

She approached cautiously-and found a man.

His face, striking and almost unreally handsome, was deathly pale. A gaping wound at his waist leaked dark blood, swirling into the saltwater like a grim, bloody sunset.

Arielle pressed two fingers just beneath his nose. Still breathing. Without hesitation, she grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged his dead weight toward the cave she'd been using for the past few nights.

She got a small fire going, then ventured back out into the pouring rain to forage for herbs.

Returning soaked to the bone, she murmured as she crushed the herbs against a stone, "You're lucky you ran into me."

Wasting no time, she reached down to strip off his shirt. A quick glance confirmed her fears: the gash was deep, likely causing internal damage.

Her hand moved to his neck to check his pulse, but an icy hand suddenly clamped down over hers.

"Who are you?"

His voice was barely a rasp, but his grip was like iron.

Arielle met his gaze, her expression hardening. "Your savior. And if you don't let go of me right now, I'm going to have to dig you a grave. 'Here lies John Doe.' Does that work for you?"

The man frowned, saying nothing. His eyes slid to the crushed herbs in her hand.

"What are you waiting for? Take off your shirt so I can help you."

She reached out again, but he batted her hand away.

"I'll do it."

His sharp, defensive tone brought a faint smirk to Arielle's lips. The man slowly unbuttoned his soaked shirt, his dark, suspicious eyes never leaving her for a second.

When the fabric finally fell away, Arielle froze.

In the flickering firelight, his sculpted torso was on full display-a perfect eight-pack, complete with a sharp V-line that dipped dangerously low beneath his belt.

Damn. This guy's body was practically a crime.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing slightly as she pressed the poultice to his wound.

"What is that?" he asked, his deep voice entirely devoid of emotion.

"Antiseptic herbs. They'll stop the bleeding."

"Where am I?"

Her initial intimidation fading, Arielle looked up at him, exasperated by the interrogation.

"If I knew where we were, do you think I'd have been stuck here for seven days? Save your breath and rest."

"That is no way for a doctor to speak to a patient," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" she shot back, incredulous. "Is that how a dying man speaks to the person keeping him breathing?"

Their gazes locked, sharp and unyielding.

"You're insolent."

"And you're an ass."

Silence fell over the cave, thick with tension.

The flames crackled between them, casting flickering shadows over two wary souls-and a storm ready to break.

Finally, Arielle relented.

There was no point wasting energy arguing with a half-dead man. She straightened up, her tone flattening out.

"The rain isn't letting up. It's going to get even colder tonight, so I need to build up the fire. Don't move."

She turned toward the corner of the cave, but the man's deep voice rang out behind her.

"Hey."

"What now?" she sighed, glancing back. "If I don't get this fire going, we're both going to freeze before dawn."

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally muttered, "Nothing."

Arielle rolled her eyes and got back to work.

On this damp rock, there was only one way to make a fire: friction.

After more than an hour of grueling effort, a tiny ember finally sparked to life.

But a sudden gust of wind swept into the cave, snuffing out the fragile flame before it could catch.

"Hey," the man said again.

"What?!" she snapped, thoroughly exasperated.

At that exact moment, a metallic clink echoed against the stone floor. Arielle looked down. A silver lighter lay at her feet.

"Huh?"

Three seconds of heavy silence passed. Then, she exploded.

"You jerk! Are you messing with me?!"

The injured man simply closed his eyes, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips.

Night fell, heavy and biting cold.

They slept on opposite sides of the cave.

In the middle of the night, low groans jolted Arielle awake.

She opened her eyes and peered at the man. His face was deathly pale and slick with sweat. He was curled into himself, shivering violently.

"Hey, idiot... are you okay?"

She prodded his shoulder, but he didn't react.

Panic spiking, she pressed her palm against his forehead. He was burning up.

His wound was infected.

Two amoxicillin pills would have been enough to fix this. But out here? She might as well pray for a miracle.

With no other options, Arielle did the only thing she could think of: she stripped off his clothes to try and bring his fever down.

But soon, his shivering worsened, his cracked lips murmuring weakly about the cold.

She dragged him closer to the fire, but it wasn't enough.

"Damn it..."

Making a split-second decision, she stripped off her own shirt, pressed herself against his bare chest, and wrapped her arms tightly around him to share her body heat.

She didn't care how insufferable the guy was. She was not letting him die. Saving a life was good karma. Maybe God would let her uncover the truth about her mother in exchange.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Southalls.

If the people who claimed they were bringing her home actually wanted her dead, then something was seriously wrong.

And if her father was the one behind it, she'd never forgive him.

Huddled against the burning skin of the stranger, Arielle finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep.

When she woke, voices were echoing outside the cave. Heavy footsteps.

She sprang up.

People? Here?

Her gaze dropped. The man's jacket had been draped over her shoulders.

But the man himself was gone.

Quickly throwing her clothes back on, she crept cautiously toward the cave entrance.

What if it was them? The ones who tried to kill her?

They certainly didn't waste any time...

But as she peeked out, the sight before her froze her in her tracks.

A line of bodyguards dressed in sharp black suits stood at attention. Further down the beach, a sleek helicopter waited on the sand.

Their leader was speaking respectfully to the man she had saved.

At that moment, the man turned around.

For the first time, Arielle saw his face clearly in the morning light.

He was still devastatingly handsome, but now, he was downright intimidating. His deathly pallor had faded. He stood tall, radiating an icy, untouchable presence.

He recovered fast.

"You-" she began.

He cut her off, his expression completely impassive. "What do you want?"

"Excuse me?"

"You saved my life. I can grant you one wish."

Arielle stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Seriously? Not even a 'thank you'?"

The guards whipped their heads around to stare at her in sheer astonishment, as if she had just committed blasphemy.

The man's expression didn't so much as twitch. "You will regret passing up this chance."

She fumed inwardly, but forced herself to be practical.

Her little raft was never going to make it to the mainland.

Through gritted teeth, she blurted out, "Take me home."

The man's gaze flickered with faint surprise.

"That's it?"

"What else would I want? I just want off this cursed island."

He looked her up and down as if she were an absolute idiot, then turned on his heel and strode toward the helicopter.

Three hours later, the aircraft was flying over Jadeborough.

"Is this the place?" he asked, gesturing to the sprawling manor below.

"I think so, yes," Arielle murmured.

She had few memories of her childhood, but she had done her homework before making her return.

This estate had once belonged to the Moores.

Now, it was the property of the man who hadn't bothered to look for her during her entire ten-year disappearance: her father.

"Take us down," the man ordered.

The pilot nodded immediately.

"Right away, sir."

At the Southall residence, everything was lavishly decorated for a birthday party.

Shandie Southall, draped in a gown from the latest Louis Vuitton collection, held court among a flock of young socialites eager to flatter her.

"Shandie, your dress is gorgeous! It looks like a literal galaxy."

"That's from LV's spring collection, isn't it? I couldn't even get on the waitlist to rent it, and you own it! Your dad spoils you so much!"

"Happy birthday, Shandie! I heard Sam Sleight personally offered you a role. You're definitely going to be the hottest actress of the year. Don't forget us when you're famous!"

"Oh, who cares about showbiz? Shandie is just doing it for fun. She's a Southall-she was born to shine!"

Masking the smug satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, Shandie offered a modest smile.

"You guys are too sweet. Excuse me for a second. I need to go see when the cake is arriving."

Slipping back inside the mansion, she nearly collided with her mother in the foyer.

"Mom," she hissed, dropping her voice. "Have my cousin's men reported back? It's my twentieth birthday today, and the last thing I need is people finding out this family has some girl who got kidnapped by traffickers."

Fondly smoothing a wrinkle from her daughter's dress, Cindy Southall replied in a soothing tone, "No news is good news. Don't worry, she isn't coming back. And even if she tried to, those traffickers surely sold her off to some remote village. What could a filthy country girl like her possibly do to us?"

Shandie nodded. Truthfully, a twisted part of her almost wished the country girl would show up, just so she could flaunt the massive gap between them and remind everyone who the real high-society heiress was.

Suddenly, the housekeeper rushed into the hall, breathless.

"Mrs. Southall! A helicopter just landed on the lawn-and it bears the Nightshire family crest!"

"The Nightshires?" Shandie gasped, her eyes lighting up. "Mom, do you think Dad actually managed to invite Vinson Nightshire?"

Cindy looked just as stunned. True, the Southalls were among the country's elite, but the Nightshires existed in a stratosphere of their own-one of the most powerful dynasties in the world.

Vinson Nightshire, the ruthless heir to the empire, wasn't someone who just dropped by for cake.

Maybe he actually valued their new business partnership, Cindy thought, her pulse picking up speed.

"Let's go greet him," she urged, quickly checking her reflection in a hall mirror while Shandie did the same. "If we can secure a real connection with the Nightshires, our family's promising future is set in stone."

Moments later, mother and daughter swept out onto the lawn, where a crowd of curious, buzzing guests had already formed a wide circle around the aircraft.

"Shandie, you actually got the Nightshires to come! You're amazing!"

"You didn't even warn us! I would've hired a professional glam squad if I knew he was going to be here!"

Shandie maintained a perfectly polite smile, though inwardly, she scoffed.

He was here for her. What good would makeup do the rest of them?

She was absolutely certain of it. At a banquet hosted by the Nightshires last month, she had gone out of her way to catch Vinson's eye.

She was going to be the next Mrs. Nightshire, she thought, practically purring with satisfaction.

At that moment, the helicopter door slid open. Every eye turned toward the aircraft, and a hush fell over the crowd, thick with anticipation.

But instead of a billionaire in a tailored suit, it was a young woman in tattered clothes who hopped down to the grass.

She looked slender and frail, and her face was so smeared with dirt and grime that her features were barely visible. Her tangled hair hung in a matted mess, looking as though it hadn't been washed in weeks.

"What the...?"

The guests' gazes instantly darted toward Shandie.

The girls who secretly envied her were already hiding snickers behind their hands.

"Is this your VIP guest, Shandie? A literal beggar?"

Her face burning with fury, Shandie marched forward. "Who are you? Who do you think you are, crashing my birthday party looking like that?"

"Birthday party?" the young woman echoed calmly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she realized exactly who was standing in front of her.

To the rest of the world, Shandie was Cindy's adopted daughter, but Arielle knew the ugly truth. The private investigator she'd hired had laid it all bare-Shandie was the illegitimate child of Cindy and Henrick.

Her father didn't even know if his real daughter was dead or alive, yet here he was, throwing a lavish bash for his bastard child?

A dark, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Arielle's lips.

"You want to know who I am?" she asked, locking eyes with the furious girl in the designer gown.

"I am your father."

"What?!"

Before Shandie could explode, Arielle tilted her head, her smile turning icy. "I mean... your father's actual daughter."

Shandie froze. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the guests exchanged wide-eyed glances, desperate to see how this drama would unfold.

When the realization finally hit her, the color drained from Shandie's face as she stammered, "Y-You're... Arielle Moore?"

The country bumpkin? With the filthy rags and matted hair, she certainly fit the description.

Fortunately for Shandie, Cindy was far more seasoned in the art of saving face, as she immediately pushed through the crowd.

"Arielle? Is it really you? Oh, my poor child, I've been waiting for this day for so long... You're finally home!"

Arielle's lips curled into a humorless smile. "Hello, Aunt Cindy. It's been a while."

Though the words were polite, her tone dripped with unmistakable sarcasm.

Her mother's younger sister married her father? He married his own sister-in-law? What a sick joke. There had to be something fishy going on.

The whispers among the guests grew louder.

"Wait, didn't the current Mrs. Southall used to be the first Mrs. Southall's sister?"

"Then that beggar must be Miss Moore, the one who was kidnapped by traffickers ten years ago."

"You know, the Southall family used to be the Moore family. Henrick actually married into their wealth. After Maureen Moore died, he just flipped the family name to Southall."

"Seriously? That's messed up..."

Hearing the scandalous murmurs, Cindy felt a hot flush of humiliation creep up her neck.

She quickly cleared her throat, forcing a maternal smile to compose herself.

"My dear, all that matters is that you're finally safe. Come, let's get you inside and washed up. Look at you, you're covered in grime... You must have suffered terribly out there in the countryside."

Arielle's gaze hardened into a frosty glare.

Cindy was making sure everyone knew she had been living in the dirt. She really hated her.

Just as she opened her mouth to fire back, a deep, resonant voice drifted from the helicopter behind her.

"Hey."

Instantly, every head on the lawn snapped toward the sound.

And when the guests saw the man stepping down from the cabin, a suffocating, awe-struck silence blanketed the yard.

It was Vinson Nightshire.

The man who could send ripples through the global economy with a single wave of his hand.

"Mr. Nightshire?!" Shandie squealed, her eyes wide with adoration. "Did you really come all this way for my birthday? Thank you so much!"

Her cheeks flushed a deep, feverish crimson.

She had assumed he might just send an assistant with a gift, but seeing him here in the flesh sent her into a state of absolute euphoria.

This was it. Her moment of glory, she thought, digging her nails into her palms to keep from jumping up and down.

The surrounding guests stared at her with raw envy. Even as an adopted daughter, if Vinson Nightshire was showing this kind of interest, Shandie's future was essentially limitless.

But a second later...

"Who are you?" Vinson's brow furrowed, his expression a mix of genuine confusion and stark impatience.

He looked at Shandie as if he had never seen her before in his life.

A few guests couldn't contain themselves, letting out sharp barks of laughter.

"I thought he was here for her birthday, but he doesn't even know her name!"

"Oh my god, how embarrassing! If that were me, I'd dig a hole and bury myself!"

Shandie's smile shattered, her expression rapidly cycling from ecstatic joy to blank shock, and finally to burning humiliation. Whipping her head around, she shot a venomous glare at the giggling socialites.

Cindy, ever the veteran of social warfare, was the first to recover.

She stepped in front of her daughter, plastering on a flawless, welcoming smile.

"Mr. Nightshire, we had no idea you'd be dropping by today. It is an absolute honor to have you. It just so happens to be my daughter's birthday, so she foolishly assumed you were here for the party. But you must be here to discuss business with Henrick. He's just upstairs-please, come inside."

The mocking sneers in the crowd vanished instantly.

After all, having Vinson Nightshire set foot on one's property, even for a brief business meeting, was a privilege most families would kill for.

Yet, Vinson's response shattered the illusion once more.

"And you are? Do I know you?"

Cindy's welcoming gesture froze awkwardly in mid-air.

What? He didn't even know who she was?!

The guests, meanwhile, were practically biting their tongues off to keep from howling with laughter.

This mother-daughter duo was putting on a better comedy act than the hired entertainment.

A hot, prickly wave of shame washed over Cindy.

If he didn't know her, and he didn't know Shandie... then who was he here for?

Suddenly, a horrifying realization hit her.

Arielle. The filthy, ragged Arielle that everyone had just been treating like trash.

She was the one who had just climbed out of his helicopter.

Rooted to the spot in absolute shock, Cindy could only watch as Vinson brushed past her without a second glance, walking straight up to Arielle.

Stepping closer, Vinson spoke to Arielle, his voice low and steady.

"Are you sure that's your wish? I'll give you one more chance."

Arielle frowned, meeting his gaze head-on.

"You want to grant me another wish? What are you, a genie?"

Around them, Shandie, Cindy, and the rest of the guests watched the scene in stunned silence. What on earth was going on? How did a beggar know Vinson Nightshire?!

Vinson held her gaze. He was about to reply when a booming voice shattered the quiet.

"Mr. Nightshire! What an absolute pleasure! Why didn't you let me know you were coming?"

Heads turned toward Henrick Southall as he strode into the gathering. The guests gaped in shock.

Cindy, however, simply squeezed her eyes shut, dreading the fallout.

Just what exactly was going on? Henrick quickly sensed the shift in the atmosphere.

His gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on Arielle. His expression instantly hardened.

"Why is there a beggar at the birthday party?" he snapped at Shandie. "Get her out of here!"

Shandie stood frozen, though a thrill of delight rushed through her at her father's reaction.

"Dad, she's-"

"Dad!" Arielle interrupted, her voice ringing out clear and bright. "Don't you remember me? It's me, Sannie!"

Time seemed to stop.

Sannie. It was the affectionate nickname he used to call her all those years ago.

"San..." Henrick's eyes widened, his jaw going slack. "Are you... Arielle?"

"Yes, Dad. It's me, Arielle."

She closed the distance between them with slow, measured steps. Even if her memory of the events ten years ago remained fragmented, she could never forget this face.

Henrick stumbled back a step, all color draining from his face. A flicker of raw panic flashed in his eyes. What if she knew the truth?

Arielle caught that flash of anxiety in an instant.

"It's been so long," she continued, her tone perfectly calm. "I've missed you so much."

Caught completely off guard, Henrick scrambled for words. He awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"Welcome home, sweetheart... but... what happened? Why are you and Mr. Nightshire so... messy?"

Intrigued, the guests finally shifted their attention back to Vinson.

His shirt was soaked through, the fabric clinging tightly to his skin. In the shock of the moment, no one had noticed that he looked like he'd just walked out of a disaster zone.

Shandie's gaze darted between Arielle and Vinson, suspicion narrowing her eyes.

Could something be going on between them? She quickly shook the thought away. Impossible. Vinson Nightshire falling for a filthy country girl? Only if he were blind!

Stepping in to smooth things over, Cindy offered a strained smile.

"I believe Mr. Nightshire simply did us the favor of bringing Arielle home."

"Is that so?" Henrick asked, visibly relieved.

If she came back young and naive, she must not remember much. Maybe they could use this to their advantage. What if he used her to build a bridge to the Nightshires?

A calculating smile crept onto his face. "So, you're a friend of Arielle's? Thank you for bringing her back to us. Please, if you don't mind, stay and have dinner. We can get you some dry clothes to change into."

Cindy immediately chimed in, layering on the polite hostess act, "Yes, we always keep spare clothes for our guests."

Vinson's first instinct was to refuse, but the damp clothes clinging to his skin were growing unbearable. He gave a curt nod of agreement.

Henrick directed him toward the upstairs guest room before leaning in to whisper discreetly to Cindy, "Get Arielle cleaned up, too."

After nearly a decade of marriage, Cindy didn't need him to spell it out.

Henrick wanted to use Arielle to cozy up to the Nightshire family.

Damn her! Cindy thought, resentment boiling in her chest.

Why did luck always favor Arielle and never her daughter? Maureen overshadowed her her entire life. She would never let Maureen's daughter trample all over hers!

She plastered on a fake smile and nodded, then pulled Shandie aside.

"Take her upstairs to wash up. She's your older sister now, so play nice, okay?"

Shandie immediately caught the hidden warning in her mother's tone.

Turning around, she flashed a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Hey, Arielle. Shall we get you to a bathroom?"

Arielle was under no illusions. This mother-daughter duo hadn't changed a bit. Still, she masked her wariness behind a placid smile.

"Okay."

They took each other's hands and stepped into the manor.

Left outside, the guests leaned in, murmuring among themselves.

Whatever the real story was, one thing was crystal clear. From now on, they would have to treat the Southall family with a lot more respect.

Upstairs, Shandie pushed open the door to a guest bedroom.

"You can use this for now while we get your actual room ready. Everything you need to wash up is in the en-suite. I'll go find you a dress."

"Thank you," Arielle replied calmly.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Shandie paused, turning back toward her. "Do you know how to use a modern shower? The temperature is already set, so you don't even need to touch the dials, okay?"

She kept her voice dripping with sweetness, but the sheer contempt in her eyes gave her away.

Pretending not to notice, Arielle offered a faint smile.

"Thanks."

Did Shandie really think she didn't know how a shower worked? Arielle was mildly amused.

"Perfect. I'll be right back with your dress."

The second Shandie stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut, her smile vanished.

She snatched a tissue from her pocket and frantically wiped her hands, scrubbing the skin as if she had just touched raw sewage... before tossing the crumpled tissue onto the floor in disgust.

Her hands stank, and so did the rest of her. She reeked! Vinson had to have brought her here by mistake. There was no way a man like him could ever be attracted to a filthy beggar like Arielle!

Inside the bathroom, Arielle was already sinking into a hot, relaxing shower.

Even she was a little disgusted by the grime and the smell she'd accumulated after a week stranded on that island.

The steaming water cascaded from her head down to her toes, washing away the layers of dirt. As she scrubbed her face clean, the grime gave way to clear, radiant skin.

Beneath the mess, her features were strikingly delicate and perfectly proportioned, giving her an almost ethereal beauty.

About ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.

"Arielle, could you open up, please? I brought your dress. I'm leaving a pair of heels right outside the door for you, too," Shandie said.

"Alright," Arielle called back, opening the door just a crack to retrieve the garment.

Through the narrow gap, she couldn't see the malicious mockery gleaming in Shandie's eyes.

The dress Shandie had handed her was a custom Gucci piece. It cost significantly more than the outfit Shandie herself was wearing tonight.

Shandie had gone to great lengths to acquire it, but she had never been able to wear it due to its unforgiving cut.

To pull it off, a woman needed a flawless, model-like figure- a tiny, defined waist paired with generous curves. On an ordinary body, the fabric would just make the wearer look thick and boxy.

Because Shandie had broad shoulders and less prominent collarbones, the dress was incredibly unflattering on her. That was the only reason it had stayed in her closet tonight.

Shandie was sure that when that hideous beggar came out wearing this, everyone was going to laugh her out of the room! A petty, satisfied smile spread across her face as she anticipated her little revenge.