When He Married My Savior in Secret (Freda Lane) novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Two days before their fifth wedding anniversary, Freda Lane clutched her pregnancy test results and secretly flew to Ireland, hoping to surprise her husband who was away on business.

She rushed excitedly to Cyril Prescott's hotel room, and as she approached the half-open door, voices drifted out from inside.

"Congratulations, Cyril! Living the dream with two women! Here's to you and Jolie Hart—happy wedding!"

"So Cyril's serious about Jolie? Flying all the way to Ireland just to marry her. They take marriage real seriously in Ireland. No divorce—just widowhood!"

"Isn't this bigamy?" someone asked curiously.

"That's where you're wrong, buddy! Cyril never married Freda Lane for real back then. He’s been unmarried five years, just sittin’ tight for Jolie to turn legal!"

"Damn, Cyril’s been playing the long game, huh?"

Freda stood frozen outside, her blood turning to ice.

She thought she'd misheard, but the next words shattered her world completely.

"I’m serious about Jolie, okay? She risked her life to save Freda with that blood transfusion, and she’s been willing to live in her shadow forever. She can take care of Freda with me. All she wants is a real marriage, and I can give her that." Cyril's voice was calm and deliberate.

Freda instinctively stepped back, Jolie Hart's mature, seductive face flashing before her eyes.

Five years ago, when Freda was in a car accident, it was Jolie—then just a high school student—who rushed her to the hospital and donated blood to save her life.

Jolie grew up in poverty, with only her ailing mother by her side. To show their gratitude, Freda and Cyril had covered all of Jolie's expenses, even arranging for her to study abroad and travel.

Cyril had declared that by saving Freda's life, Jolie had saved his life too.

He was willing to give anything to show his gratitude.

She just never imagined his idea of gratitude included raising her until she was old enough to marry.

How ridiculous. She'd been completely clueless for five whole years.

"What about Freda? Aren't you worried she'll find out?" one of Cyril's buddies couldn't help asking.

Cyril looked down, his fingers quickly tapping across his phone screen. He spoke with confidence, "I'll keep loving her just like I always have. She'll never find out in this lifetime."

"You guys better keep your mouths shut. I don't want any of this drama getting back to Freda."

The next second, Freda's phone buzzed.

She stared at Cyril's message, her chest tightening as ice-cold flooded her body.

[Baby, I miss you so much. I hate these business trips—every single second feels like agony without my beautiful wife by my side. I'm doing everything I can to get home for our special day. Love you.]

Freda gripped her phone and glanced up at Cyril through the doorway. He was smiling, casually unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, his eyes gleaming with some unreadable light.

Her vision blurred as tears welled up.

This wasn't her Cyril Prescott.

Cyril was her childhood sweetheart, the boy who broke his leg climbing through her bedroom window to retrieve her hair clip, then comfort her while she cried.

He was the eighteen-year-old who braved a snowstorm to climb a mountain just to confess his love, promising he'd love her forever and never lie to her.

At twenty, he hand-wrote 9,999 love letters and spent months baking a hundred different cakes to propose to her.

Her Cyril was the twenty-two-year-old who planned their dream wedding and couldn't bear to be apart from her for even a moment after they were married...

Not this lying bastard who claimed to love her while marrying another woman.

Freda's heart felt like it was being ripped apart. She bit down hard on her lip.

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