The Quadruplets' Mommy's Secret Identity

Sandara Wellington was just about to drift into deep sleep when the shrill, angry buzz of her phone vibrated under her pillow. Her head throbbed from the wedding toasts she barely remembered. Even now, she wasn't sober.

"Hello...?"

The moment she answered, a scream blasted through the speaker.

"Sandara! Aaron-Aaron jumped from the rooftop!"

Her blood froze.

"What?" Her voice cracked, thick with sleep. "What are you talking about?"

"He... he jumped off the building! Hurry! He's not moving! Come down! Come down now!"

The call ended abruptly.

Sandara shot upright, heart slamming against her ribs.

The world inside the dim hotel suite tilted. For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Her husband? Jumped? Impossible. They had just gotten married. They had just...

Her breath hitched.

They had just shared an intimate moment barely fifteen minutes ago... She hadn't even fallen fully asleep yet.The naked skin... the kiss marks scattered across her body... they were proof, weren't they?Proof that she hadn't been alone in that bed.

Panic surged through her as she realized she was completely naked. She stumbled toward the closet in the dark room, yanking out the first shirt she could find. Pulling it over her head, she clutched it tightly to her body, her heart hammering.

This can't be real.

She rushed toward the door, never noticing the faint sound of water dripping behind her. Never noticing the sliver of light beneath the bathroom door.

Never noticing the presence of a man who was not Aaron Greyson.

She sprinted into the hallway barefoot, nearly colliding with a maid's cart, then flew down the emergency stairs, gripping the railing so hard her knuckles turned white.

By the time she burst through the lobby doors and onto the cold pavement outside, a crowd had already formed. Hotel staff, wedding guests, strangers-voices murmured, whispered, gasped.

Then she saw him.

Her newlywed husband lay on the ground, twisted and motionless, surrounded by a spreading pool of dark, glistening red.

For a moment, Sandara forgot how to breathe.

The man she had married just hours ago.The man she thought had held her, touched her-whose warmth she still felt on her skin.

Gone.

Completely, impossibly gone.

Her knees buckled. A scream rose in her chest, but nothing came out.

The Greyson family arrived in a storm of grief and fury. The moment they saw their son's body, their rage snapped toward her like a pack of wild animals.

"You cursed demon!" his mother shrieked. "You killed him! You killed my son!"

Sandara stumbled back, shaking her head, her words tangled and trembling.

"No... no, I-I didn't! He was fine... he was fine!"

Her voice cracked.

She wasn't cursed. She wasn't. Her previous five fiancés hadn't died.Near accidents, yes-but never death.

So why?

Why would her new husband throw himself off a building on their wedding night?

As Aaron's body was lifted into the ambulance and carried away to the hospital, Sandara remained frozen, standing in place.

"Sandara, come home with me now," Old Master Wellington said, his voice steady but firm. He had been staying in one of the hotel rooms and had rushed down the moment he heard the news.

He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her.

Within hours, news of Aaron's death exploded across social media. Sandara was branded as the cursed woman-the one responsible for her husband's tragic end.

In less than a month, the stories of her past-her five previous fiancés, each of whom had faced misfortune while engaged to her-resurfaced, painting a picture of inevitability and doom.

Chaos reigned. The Greyson family, unreasonable and relentless, demanded that Sandara be held accountable for Aaron's death.

Instead of calming down, the situation escalated further, even shaking the Wellington family's business.

Sandara, trapped inside her own home, couldn't take a single step outside without being hunted by paparazzi. Grandpa Wellington grew more worried by the day.

"Sandara," he said gently, "you can't stay here. It's not safe. Things have escalated, and I don't see it settling down anytime soon."

Sandara shook her head, panic flickering in her eyes. "Grandpa... you don't want me anymore? You believe I'm cursed? Where would I even go?"

"No... no, sweetheart," Grandpa Wellington sighed, a low, weary sound. "It's not that at all. I mean... you need a new environment. Somewhere far away from all this. I'll make all the arrangements. You'll go overseas. You'll be safe there. No one can touch you if you're away from this storm."

Sandara's lips trembled. "But... I..."

"Don't worry," he interrupted softly, placing a firm hand over hers. "I'll handle everything here. But staying in this country will only put you in more danger. The world thinks you're cursed. And the Greysons... they won't stop until they've destroyed you. I won't let that happen. You are my granddaughter, and I will protect you, even if that means sending you far away."

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she could feel the unshakable determination in his voice. There was no argument that could change his mind. Slowly, she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I... I'll go," she whispered.

"Good," he said, squeezing her hand.

***

Seven years later - Airport

A small hand tugged at Sandara's sleeve. "Mommy, I need to pee," her daughter's soft, sweet voice pleaded.

"I need to pee too!" her son, Joe, piped up, his chubby, fair face looking up at her.

"Alright, both of you," Sandara said, guiding them toward the restroom. To keep track of them in the bustling crowd, she waited just outside.

Seven years earlier, after going abroad for her safety, Sandara had discovered she was pregnant. Shortly after, the entire Greyson family had vanished from public view, leaving no trace behind.

Her phone buzzed. It was Ryan, who had parted ways with them just after landing.

"You and the kids out of the airport yet?" he asked.

"Not yet. Why?"

"Remember the job I took on for you? The CEO of Addams Corp is paying a fortune to find the right doctor. Looks like he tracked our flight. He just called-he's waiting in the VIP lounge."

"Fine. Just make sure he doesn't find out who I am. You handle it."

Sandara hung up and caught sight of a tiny figure near an ice cream stand. Her daughter. Somehow, she had slipped away again.

"Emily!" Sandara hurried over, scooping her up just as she reached for the ice cream. "You're not listening again!"

The girl blinked up at her, eyes wide and dark, like little grapes.

"If you sneak off again, Mommy will have to spank your little butt," Sandara warned, trying to sound stern.

Emily didn't respond, only stared silently.

Sandara sighed. "Alright, fine. Mommy won't scold you. Let's find your brother-he'll panic if he comes out and doesn't see us."

She grabbed her suitcase with one hand and held Emily's with the other.

Then the girl bit down hard on Sandara's hand. "Emily! What are you doing?" Sandara yelped, letting go.

Instantly, Emily bolted.

Sandara froze, a flash of panic rising. Her daughter had never acted like this before.

"Mommy's not mad anymore-hey! Come back here!" But the girl's tiny legs were impossibly fast.

Moments later, two familiar voices called out. "Mommy!"

Sandara turned to see Emily and Joe holding hands, running toward her. Her irritation melted at the sight of Emily's innocent, beaming smile.

She crouched down. "No more running off by yourselves, okay?"

Emily nodded obediently, though inwardly thinking, 'Mommy wasn't staying where she said to wait.'

"Alright, let's go find Great-Grandpa!"

At the mention of their beloved great-grandfather, their eyes sparkled. Hand in hand, with her suitcase trailing behind, Sandara led them through the airport.

The trio drew glances wherever they went. Sandara, fair-skinned and elegant, seemed almost ethereal. Emily looked like a miniature princess in her pink tulle dress, bun perched atop her head. Joe, chubby and lively, waddled along in a tiny British-style suit, radiating charm.

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge, Skylar Addams noticed his daughter standing silently, empty-handed.

"No ice cream?" he asked.

Cara looked up briefly, then said nothing. Her selective mutism made explanations difficult, he assumed.

Closing his laptop, Skylar knelt before her. "Daddy will get it for you." He took her hand-but she jerked it away, lowering her head, her small posture radiating unmistakable frustration.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Cara remained silent, a shadow of gloom clouding her face.

Heart aching, Skylar rubbed her head. "Alright... Daddy will have Uncle Jett buy it for you, okay?"

His assistant hurried off.

Two years ago, an accident had robbed her of her voice. Since then, she had become quiet, withdrawn, and unnervingly sensitive.

Today, Skylar had brought her to the airport to meet the legendary Doctor Eclipse, a man regarded as a miracle worker in traditional medicine. No matter the cost, he was determined to heal his daughter.

...

Just as Sandara reached the hospital entrance, her phone buzzed. It was Aunt Darcy.

"Sandara... something's wrong. There's trouble at the farm. The police are here-they want to take your grandfather to the station."

Sandara's brows knit tightly.

She had barely set foot back in the country, and already chaos had found them?

"Aunt Darcy, tell the officers to hold on a moment. I'm downstairs-I'll be right there."

Knowing her grandfather's frail condition, the police hadn't entered his ward or disturbed him yet.

When Sandara arrived, the officers quickly explained. The meat delivered by her family's farm to Summit Hotel earlier that day had tested unsafe, and over a hundred guests had already been rushed to the ER.

"We need the person responsible for the farm to cooperate with our investigation," one officer said. "Since your grandfather is seriously ill, we'll need you to come instead."

Sandara's chest tightened. Her expression flickered between panic and composure, forcing herself to look flustered.

"I... I just got back... I don't... know anything..."

The officers exchanged a disappointed glance. "So... you want us to take your grandfather instead?"

"No-no!" Sandara's voice shook as she shook her head, face paling. "I... I'll go with you!"

In truth, she trusted her grandfather implicitly. His reputation was impeccable. Everyone knew it.

Summit Hotel wouldn't risk its prestige using meat from anyone else.

Clearly, someone wanted to stir trouble and drag her family's name into this.

Fine. She could play their game. Silently.

"Mommy!" Little Emily suddenly reached for her hand.

The officer's brow furrowed, expecting the child to start crying, begging them not to take her mother.

But then a soft, milky-sweet voice rang out...

"Mommy, don't worry," Emily said softly. "You can go. I'll take good care of Great-Grandpa."

Little Joe stepped forward as well. Acting like a tiny adult, he bowed seriously to the two officers. Then he lifted his fair, chubby face-delicate as porcelain-and spoke in a gentle, milky voice:

"My mommy gets scared easily. Please... take care of her."

The officers blinked, taken aback.

These children couldn't have been more than six or seven... and yet, they were more sensible than most adults. More composed than their own mother, even. Truly remarkable.

"Alright..." Sandara murmured, rubbing their heads, her voice trembling. "Mommy will come back as soon as she can."

The moment she left with the officers, the children's expressions shifted instantly-calm, cheerful. They skipped back to the ward to be with their great-grandfather.

Old Master Wellington, frail as if he had only a single breath left, visibly brightened at the sight of them. His dull eyes sparked with life.

He lifted a trembling hand and gently touched their little faces.

"Emily... Joe... you're finally back. Where's your mommy?"

"Mommy went out to buy something!" Joe lied smoothly, without the slightest hesitation.

"Good... good..." Old Master Wellington's hands shook with excitement, his mind already imagining the family whole and happy once more.

***

Sandara followed the police to the station.The meat from their farm-and the meat served at the hotel-had already been sent out for testing. Whether there was really a problem or not, they all had to wait.

Outside the station, a sleek, obsidian‑black luxury car rolled to a stop.

The hotel manager and his secretary hurried over, standing stiffly beside the door. Neither dared to open it without permission.

The tinted window lowered.

A man's perfectly sculpted, cold features came into view.

"Mr. Addams, the farm's representative is here," the secretary said.

Skylar's dark eyes flicked toward the station.When he looked away, his voice dropped to an icy chill. "If the issue came from their meat, cut ties immediately."

The manager and secretary instantly understood.

He wasn't giving the other side a chance. Just straight to the chopping block.

"Yes, Mr. Addams," the manager said quickly.

The window rolled back up, and the car pulled away.

Minutes later, the food‑safety scandal blew up online.

Every headline pointed fingers at Wellington Farm.

Marketing accounts fanned the flames, claiming Summit Hotel only bought meat from the Wellington family out of charity-and now the farm had "repaid kindness with poison," dragging the hotel's reputation through the mud.

Sitting in the station, Sandara's phone lit up nonstop.

The results weren't even out yet, but everyone already assumed she was guilty.

A cold glint flashed in her eyes before she looked up with a fearful expression.

"T‑This... this news... w‑was it you?" she stammered, voice full of hurt.

The manager kept his tone calm. "Miss Wellington, I've been right here with you, waiting for the test results."

Sandara lowered her head as if she'd just been scolded-small, timid, helpless.

She twisted her fingers, opened her lips like she wanted to explain... then shut them again.Her pretty eyes reddened, welling with tears-the kind of tears that made people feel like they were bullying a soft, harmless girl.

The manager quickly looked away. He needed his job. Sympathy wasn't going to pay his bills.

He stood. "Officers, I still need to handle the aftermath at the ER. May I leave?"

"You may," one officer said, not looking up from the computer. "We'll call you when the results come in."

"Thank you."

The manager straightened his suit and got ready to go.

But Sandara seemed to gather a burst of courage."M‑Manager... the results aren't even out yet... and you're already pushing the blame on our farm... that's not right..."

She didn't get to finish. The manager turned back and shot her a cold look, and she instantly shrank, lowering her head again.

His guilt sharpened.She wasn't wrong-they were making her the scapegoat.

But conscience wasn't something he could afford right now.

"Miss Wellington, you misunderstand. The truth will come out. We didn't spread anything," he said quickly, then practically dragged his secretary out before he felt worse.

Once they were gone, Sandara's eyes narrowed.

She wasn't stupid. For public opinion to flip that fast, someone powerful had to be pulling strings.

Interesting.

She sat down again, slipping back into her obedient, frightened act.

An officer walked over, saw her scrolling through the hateful comments, and sighed.He'd thought she was just a scaredy‑cat.Now he actually felt bad for her-she'd barely returned to the country and was already getting crushed by capital.

When no one was watching, Sandara quietly switched to Messenger.

Sandara: Ryan, pull the kitchen footage from Summit Hotel. I need to see where the problem actually came from.Ryan: Already on it. The second I saw the news, I started digging. Gimme a minute.

A few minutes later-

Ryan: Found it. Someone in the kitchen definitely poisoned the broth.Sandara: Poisoned it? Seriously? What kind of hatred is that?Ryan: I checked the guy. Worked in the hotel kitchen for thirteen years. Fired recently for messing up a dish. Probably held a grudge. Want me to upload the footage?Sandara: No hurry. Right now everyone wants my head. Sigh... Haven't been cursed out in years. Honestly? It's boring.

Ryan sent a speechless emoji.

Sandara: By the way, that Addams Corp president who offered a huge amount for medical treatment-he's tied to Summit Hotel, right?Ryan: Yeah. Summit Hotel belongs to Addams Corp. The guy in charge is Skylar Addams.Sandara: Then reject him.

Her eyes darkened. She never forgot a grudge. If he wanted help, he would get nothing.

Ryan: Got it.

Sandara locked her phone.

Five years ago, she had been forced to help five ex‑fiancés fake their deaths.That's how the "fiancé‑killer" rumor began.

But on her wedding night, her real husband had jumped to his death.And the label stuck.

Abroad, she'd finally found peace.But the second she returned, everything crumbled around her again.

A sudden wave of reporters stormed in. Cameras flashed. Microphones shoved into her face.

"Miss Wellington, is it true your farm's meat sent over a hundred guests to the hospital?"

"N‑No... no... it wasn't..." Sandara backed away, overwhelmed.

"You do realize how serious this incident is, right?" another reporter pushed.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Facing the swarm of cameras, she choked out,"It wasn't our farm's meat... it wasn't... it wasn't..."

The officers nearby stepped in, unable to watch her pale, terrified face any longer. They shoved the reporters back out the door.

Sandara hid her face in her hands-and then burst into tears.

Wow... it had been a while since she acted a crying scene with this much emotion.

She cried helplessly, heartbreakingly.

Journalists outside pressed up to the glass, livestreaming her breakdown.

The more she cried, the more convinced the public became that she was guilty and full of regret.

"It really wasn't our farm's meat... It really wasn't..."

She slowly lowered her hands, revealing her tear‑stained face.Her eyes were red, lashes wet-she looked painfully fragile.

Ryan couldn't take it anymore.Her face was gorgeous-and she was crying like someone's beating her.

His hand slipped.

He accidentally uploaded the surveillance footage online.

Meanwhile, Sandara kept up her performance like a pro.Every tear, every expression-perfect.

She was actually pretty satisfied with her acting... until she noticed all the reporters' phones start ringing at once.

One by one, they answered.And their expressions completely changed.

They stared at her, stunned.Guilt began to replace the disgust they'd shown earlier.

Sandara paused, confused.

The officers had seen the leaked footage too.Recognizing the culprit, they rushed out immediately to make arrests.

The hotel manager saw the video and knew something was very, very wrong.He called up the chain of command in a panic.

At that moment, Skylar was with his daughter when his assistant rushed in.

"Sir, the hotel surveillance was leaked. It clearly shows someone poisoning the broth."

"Find the person responsible and hand them over to the police," Skylar said with a frown. "Such a trivial matter, and they dare disturb me?"

The assistant hesitated, then took a breath.

"Uh... boss, that farm girl everyone felt sorry for online... now that the truth's out, people are blasting the hotel instead."

"Attacking us?" Skylar let out a cold laugh.

His hotel?Being targeted online?Who would dare?

He controlled the entire public narrative.

The assistant showed him the video.

Skylar glanced at the crying girl on screen-shaking, helpless, miserable.

"Her acting is convincing. If she enjoys putting on a show..." His voice dropped to an icy hush."...then that farm can disappear permanently."

***