The Blind Billionaire's Resurrected Wife

Brooks's words hit me like a freight train. My brain shortcircuited.

How in the literal hell was the random guy I casually hooked up with back then actually Brooks's older brother?!The System practically shrieked in my head the second it picked up on my frantic thoughts. [What?!

The random nobody you dated was Gideon?!] I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat and gave a slow, miserable nod.

The System was practically pacing holes into my consciousness. [Are you actively trying to sabotage us?! He's not a random extra!

He's the ultimate big boss of this entire world!] [No, no, no. Gideon absolutely cannot recognize you right now.

If he does, this entire storyline goes up in flames.] [In Brooks's eyes, you're the sweet, innocent girlnextdoor.

You absolutely cannot let him find out you slept with his obscenely powerful brother!] Chapter 1 As I listened, my gaze drifted uncontrollably to the toddler resting in Gideon’s arms.

The little girl—Daisy—couldn't have been more than two years old. Her cheeks were flushed and delightfully plump, clearly pampered.

She just happened to share the exact same icy, unapproachable expression as her father. When I looked at her, she blinked back at me with wide, curious eyes.

Beside me, Brooks grabbed my hand and announced to the room, "Gideon, I brought my girlfriend.

Her name is Stella Qiao." At the sound of that name, a microscopic twitch disrupted the stillness of Gideon’s dull, unseeing eyes.

I suddenly remembered that when I had dated Gideon, I used my real, pretransmigration name: Stella Song. The last name was different… surely he wouldn't make the connection, right?

Brooks noticed my sudden stiffness and gave my hand a light tug. "Say hi.

This is my older brother, Gideon." Panic flared in my chest, but the System worked fast, instantly applying a vocal filter.

To everyone else in the room, I sounded normal, but to Gideon’s ears, my true voice would be masked. The knot in my chest loosened slightly.

I forced a polite smile and murmured, "It's nice to meet you." Hearing the unfamiliar pitch, Gideon finally withdrew his sightless gaze and gave a single, dismissive grunt of acknowledgment.

Introductions over, we all took our seats around the massive dining table. Of course, fate decided to seat Gideon directly across from me.

Operating on the ironclad rule of 'the more you speak, the faster you die,' I kept my mouth shut and tried to shrink into the upholstery. Naturally, Brooks couldn't take a hint.

He leaned over, his voice cutting through the quiet room. "You're allergic to mangoes, so stay away from that dessert." He didn't shout, but in the hushed dining room, the words drifted crystal clear across the table straight to Gideon.

Brooks didn't stop there. He slid a perfectly sliced, premium Beef Wellington onto a plate and pushed it in front of me. "Aren't mediumrare steaks your absolute favorite?

I specifically had the executive chef prepare this just for you." A mango allergy. An obsession with mediumrare steaks.

These were the exact same hyperspecific quirks I had shared with Gideon back when we were together. Across the table, the heavy silver fork in Gideon’s hand froze in midair.

He seemed to stop breathing. His cloudy, unseeing eyes locked onto my exact position with terrifying precision. Logically, I knew he was blind.

I knew he couldn't actually see my face. But the sheer weight of his deadeyed stare made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Panic clawed at my throat.

I silently prayed to every deity listening that Brooks would just shut up. But Brooks was oblivious.

His eyes scanned the sprawling banquet, locking onto a steaming silver platter of truffled lobster mac and cheese. His mouth opened to make another grand, damning announcement.

Pure survival instinct kicked in. To hell with my innocent girlnextdoor persona. I swung my leg under the heavy table and aimed a sharp kick at his shin.

Brooks didn't even flinch. He just kept reaching for the serving spoon. Desperate, I fired off two more rapid kicks under the table.

My foot was barely pulling back for a third strike when Gideon, who had been a silent statue this entire time, finally spoke.

His gaze remained frustratingly blank, but his deep, velvet voice cut through the dining room with lethal calm. "Miss Qiao, you are kicking me." Chapter 2 Brooks’s attention snapped away from the lobster mac and cheese.

He turned to look at us. I squeezed my eyes shut, mortification burning my cheeks.

I had kicked the wrong billionaire. "I'm so sorry," I managed to choke out. "It was an accident." Gideon didn’t acknowledge my apology.

He simply stood up, his posture rigid, adjusting Daisy in his arms. "Enjoy your meal. It's time for her bottle.

We’re leaving." With that, his assistant guided him out of the dining room.

I watched through the floortoceiling windows as he slipped into the back of a ludicrously expensive luxury car.

Hanging around Brooks lately meant I had received a crash course in highend vehicle badges and designer labels.

But looking at Gideon’s ride, a weird sense of déjà vu washed over me. It took a solid minute of racking my brain before it clicked.

I had seen that exact car on the day I first met Gideon. Back then, I was fresh off my transmigration.

I knew absolutely nothing about this strange new world, only that I had somehow ended up inside a novel. No system to guide me. No overpowered cheat skills.

Out of options, I just rolled with the punches and tried to survive. My number one rule for staying alive? Avoid anyone who gave off main character energy. Name sounded too poetic?

Avoid. Obscenely rich? Avoid. Tragic, pitiful stranger on the side of the road? Definitely avoid.

That was until I was working a shift at a local coffee shop and a customer decided to make my life hell. Gideon stepped in and shut it down.

The funny thing is, his lowprofile luxury car had been parked right out front the whole time. I was just completely clueless.

Who would have guessed that a boring, genericlooking black sedan was actually an Aston Martin? After he helped me, I asked for his name. "Gideon," he replied. Simple. Solid.

Nothing overly dramatic. My guard dropped a fraction.

He then asked, "Why didn't you fight back when they were harassing you?" I gave him the honest truth. "Because they were wearing headtotoe Gucci and Balenciaga, reeking of 'don'tmesswithme' money.

I don't mess with rich people." Look, I needed to avoid the wealthy, but those were the only luxury brands I actually recognized. Gideon paused.

He let out a flat "Oh," and then quietly unclasped the watch from his wrist, slipping it into his pocket.

I caught the movement. "Why did you take that off?" "It's a fake," he lied smoothly. "It doesn't keep time properly anymore. Not worth wearing." I nodded in solidarity.

I understood, because I also frequently bought cheap knockoff bags from the Target clearance section. Right then and there, any remaining suspicion vanished.

After all, a guy wearing a knockoff watch couldn't possibly be part of the main cast. But if presentday me looked at that watch now?

I would instantly recognize it as a Patek Philippe worth nearly a million dollars. And those plain, logoless clothes he wore? Custom, handstitched tailoring.

As we got to know each other better, the facade solidified. I learned he was just a regular corporate drone.

He claimed his boss exploited him, constantly forcing him to work overtime and sit through endless meetings. He even insisted that 'ordinary' black car was borrowed from a friend.

A thoroughly unremarkable life. A normal name. He just happened to be ridiculously goodlooking. I didn't think much of it at the time.

The world was full of hot guys; they couldn't all be the main character. Plus, an overworked, exploited wage slave didn't fit the billionaire romance trope at all.

So, I did the logical thing. I started dating this incredibly handsome, ordinary extra. He was attentive, gentle, and anticipated my every need.

We spent three blissfully sweet years together. Until the week after Daisy turned one. I found out I had cancer. Chapter 3 That was exactly when the System finally booted up.

It informed me I was the designated 'vicious secondary female lead,' and the cancer was just a builtin plot device for my character arc.

The only way to cure the disease was to crawl back to the main storyline and play my part. I was so mad I wanted to dial 911 and press kidnapping charges right then and there.

The System chimed in, its mechanical voice sounding distinctly guilty. [Once the mission is complete, I will send you back to your original world.

I will also wire one hundred million dollars into your account!] One hundred million dollars! My eyes went wide.

Gideon and I were just regular, hardworking corporate drones; neither of us had ever seen that kind of cash in our lives!

So, to cure the cancer, and absolutely for the money, I was forced to leave a single goodbye letter for the father and daughter. [Leaving to get medical treatment.

I'll come back when I'm cured.] From that day on, the System scrubbed my identity, relocated me to a new city, and forced me into fulltime simp mode for the male lead. And Gideon?

After I fell off the face of the earth, he assumed my treatment failed and I was dead. But now, through some twisted stroke of fate, I was sitting right across from him again.

My stomach tied itself into brutal knots. If this derailed my mission, I was dead meat. Once Gideon left, the suffocating tension hovering over the dining table finally dissipated.

I dialed up my sweet, obedient act, easily winning over Brooks's parents. By the time the meal ended, they were already inviting me back to their estate.

Brooks nodded. "I need to grab some things from the house anyway. Come back with me, Stella." I had no choice but to agree.

But the second I stepped foot inside the sprawling family manor, I spotted Gideon. He might be blind, but his grip on the company was absolute.

An assistant stood beside him, dutifully reading off a stack of reports.

As Gideon listened, his large hands moved with practiced ease, tying his daughter’s hair into two perfect little pigtails.

Daisy, clearly bored to tears by the corporate jargon, started fussing to go play. Gideon gave her a gentle pat and let her wander.

She was still unsteady on her feet, waddling clumsily across the expensive rug, stubbornly batting away the hands of the maids trying to spot her.

She finally broke free from her entourage, only to end up right in front of me. She tilted her head up, locking those big, curious eyes on mine again.

Distracted, the toe of her shoe caught on the carpet, and she pitched forward. The maids gasped and lunged forward.

Daisy pushed back, letting out a few garbled, stubborn words. "No, no…" In her struggle, she lost her balance completely. Pure reflex took over.

I stepped forward and scooped her into my arms. Daisy instantly went silent. She froze, stunned. A maid rushed up, offering an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Miss.

She's terrified of strangers.

Usually, she only lets the eldest young master hold her…" The next second, Daisy burrowed deeper into my embrace, her tiny fists gripping my shirt as she squeezed her eyes shut in comfort.

Her soft body pressed tightly against mine, a natural bond woven into our very blood and bones that no expensive plush toy could ever replace. "Llike…" The room fell dead silent.

Everyone stared. Brooks let out a low chuckle. "Stella, it's a miracle.

My little niece never warms up to anyone." I kept my expression neutral. "Yeah, I've always been a magnet for kids." Brooks didn't suspect a thing and wandered off to take care of his own business.

Daisy kept her face buried against my collarbone for a few more seconds before tilting her head back, fixing those huge, grapelike eyes on me. She was staring way too intensely.

A cold sweat pricked my palms. Did she recognize me? Impossible. She was barely a year old when I left. There was no way she retained any memories of me.

But then, her chubby little hand dug into her pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled photograph. I glanced down.

It was a picture of my profile, taken back when I was holding her as a baby. Gideon must have secretly snapped it back then.

Thank god the lighting was terrible; the image was heavily blurred.

Daisy looked at the photo, then back up at me, her little brow furrowed like she was trying to solve the greatest mystery of the century.

Chapter 4 But she was just a twoyearold toddler. She could barely walk, let alone speak in complete sentences or decipher a heavily blurred photograph.

Neither Gideon nor I were the type to take pictures, so very few existed anyway. Still, I couldn't shake the paranoia. "Have you seen any other pictures?" I coaxed.

Daisy seemed to process the question, shaking her little head with a pout. "Daddy… stingy… no looking!" A massive weight lifted off my chest. Thank god he kept them hidden.

If she had studied them, she might have actually recognized me. Heavy, measured footsteps approached from behind.

Having wrapped up his business, Gideon had immediately come looking for his daughter.

Sensing her tucked into someone's arms, a rare flicker of surprise crossed his stoic features. "You're letting a maid hold you?" The assistant coughed awkwardly. "Mr.

Gideon, that's not a maid. It's the young master's fiancée." Gideon's brow furrowed imperceptibly.

He held his large hands out. "Come to Daddy, Daisy." But Daisy, who usually clung to Gideon like a koala, refused to budge.

Shaking her head, she burrowed deeper into my chest, taking a huge, exaggerated sniff against my collarbone. "Smells good… like it!" Gideon’s sightless gaze shifted in my direction.

His jaw flexed, a microexpression of disdain crossing his face. He pulled back slightly, his posture radiating a silent, chilling rejection.

His tone dropped an octave, laced with strict authority. "Daisy. Come here." Taking the hint, I stood up and walked toward him.

Handing the toddler over meant eliminating the physical distance between us. As I leaned in, a stray lock of my hair brushed directly across the hard line of his jaw.

Once Daisy was securely in his arms, I stepped back, only to realize his entire body had gone rigid. He stood frozen in the lavish hallway.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a ragged, gravelly rasp. "Miss Qiao.

What perfume are you wearing?" A beat of suffocating silence. "Why does it smell exactly like my wife?" I cursed my own carelessness.

Not only did Gideon have the nose of a bloodhound, but his memory was entirely too sharp.

Panic spiked, but I forced my features into a mask of ignorance. "Maybe it's the tendollar discount conditioner I bought at Walmart," I replied smoothly. "Do you want me to text you a picture of the barcode?" Gideon’s jaw clamped shut.

His cold, emotionless mask slid right back into place. "No need." Makes sense.

The current billionaire Gideon was miles away from the ordinary guy I knew; he wouldn't be caught dead looking at Walmart clearance items. … Back at my apartment, I scrolled through local job boards on my phone.

Brooks deposited an obscene amount of money into my account every month, but I couldn't touch a single cent. I knew exactly why he had agreed to make me his girlfriend.

It all boiled down to my perfectly crafted persona—the resilient, independent, struggling girlnextdoor.

Back then, he and his first love, Aurora, had an explosive, blowout fight, resulting in her storming off abroad out of spite.

My assigned mission was to mimic Aurora and secure my position as her understudy.

Because of that, I rarely accepted Brooks's cash, insisting on working my own jobs to maintain the illusion of independence.

Having just quit my last gig a few days ago, I desperately needed a new source of income. Just as the thought crossed my mind, a local listing popped up.

Wanted: Pediatric Nutritionist. The description read: Client is a twoyearold child. Responsible for three meals a day. Child is a severely picky eater.

Candidates must possess extreme patience. I literally had a certified nutritionist license sitting in my drawer.

I had only gotten the damn thing because the System demanded I use my culinary skills to trap Brooks, forcing me to grind my cooking stats until I passed the certification exam.

My eyes drifted to the skyhigh salary and ridiculous benefits package attached to the posting. I hit 'Apply' without a second thought.

Chapter 5 Two days later, I landed an interview. The recruiter grilled me with a barrage of highly technical questions.

After I nailed every single one, she finally gave a satisfied nod. She handed me an address for the final, inperson evaluation.

Marveling at the intense vetting process, I hailed a cab. After arriving at the hyperexclusive gated community, a security guard personally escorted me inside.

But as we navigated the winding, manicured paths, a sense of creeping dread washed over me. I stared at the painfully familiar surroundings, my blood running cold.

Wasn't this the Brooks family manor? Before I could turn around and bolt, the guard pushed open the heavy oak doors. I looked up.

Gideon and Daisy were sitting in the massive living room, flanked by two anxious maids.

Father and daughter were seated at opposite ends of a low table, locked in a suffocating standoff. A maid hovered nearby, holding a small porcelain bowl. "Miss Daisy, please.

Just one bite," she coaxed, her voice trembling.

Daisy swatted her little hand out, her brow furrowed in defiance. "No!" The bowl shattered against the hardwood floor, splattering gourmet puree everywhere.

Gideon’s features hardened into a mask of pure ice. "Daisy. If you refuse to eat, you will starve." Daisy didn't even flinch at his terrifying tone.

In her sheer desperation, she managed to string together a complete, coherent sentence: "Mommy wouldn't yell at me! Mommy was here!" The words dropped like a bomb.

The maids collectively stopped breathing. A violent spasm of pain shattered Gideon's cold facade for a fraction of a second.

Then, his lips twisted into a cruel, selfdeprecating smirk. "Mommy didn't want you." Daisy’s eyes widened in furious defiance.

She fired right back. "Mommy didn't want you either!" "You… you're useless! Mommy was hurting in the hospital…" The rims of Gideon's sightless eyes flushed a harsh, violent red.

He slammed his eyelids shut, a sharp, ragged tremor wracking his broad shoulders. His jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped. Yet, not a single tear fell.

The memory of my abandoned medical records flashed in my mind—he had already shed every tear he had left back then.

The explosive argument died the second I stepped fully into the room. The head butler spotted me, his jaw dropping. "Miss Stella?

What are you doing here?" I mentally cursed the universe. I never imagined Gideon was the one behind the anonymous job listing.

My entire survival plan hinged on staying a hundred miles away from him to avoid blowing my cover.

But looking at the aftermath of their fight—Gideon's suppressed agony and Daisy sitting there with her cheeks puffed out in stubborn hunger—a wave of helpless, agonizing softness crashed over me.

Defeated by my own bleeding heart, I looked at the butler. "I'm here for the nutritionist interview." Daisy whipped her head around.

The furious, puffedup little storm cloud instantly vanished, replaced by complete shock. As I walked closer, panic flickered in her massive eyes.

Her tiny foot shot out, desperately trying to kick the shattered bowl and spilled food under the low table. She clearly didn't want me to see her throwing a tantrum.

A small, amused smile slipped past my defenses. "Why were we so angry just now?" Daisy lunged forward, her tiny fists latching onto my sleeve.

She immediately threw her billionaire father under the bus. "Not angry. Daddy angry.

Daisy not… bad temper…" Gideon let out another dark, hollow scoff from his side of the room, but he didn't utter a single word to correct her.

Once the butler processed why I was there, relief flooded his face. "Miss Daisy still hasn't eaten a bite.

Please, follow me to the kitchen for your practical test." I nodded and headed for the kitchen.

Daisy didn't make a sound, but she shadowed my every step like a tiny, determined duckling. It didn't take long to whip up a perfectly balanced, toddlerfriendly meal.

I carried it out and spoonfed the first bite to Daisy. The moment the food hit her tongue, her huge eyes practically sparkled. She eagerly devoured the entire bowl.

The butler was practically weeping with gratitude, but he still turned to Gideon for the final verdict.

Throughout the entire feeding session, Gideon had remained frozen, silently absorbing every sound of our interaction.

Chapter 6 When I glanced up, I caught Gideon tilting his head in my direction, an inquisitive frown pulling at his brows. But the panic from earlier was gone.

Back then, I couldn't boil water to save my life. Gideon had been the one cooking, washing dishes, and waiting on me hand and foot.

My culinary skills had leveled up astronomically since those days.

Sure enough, after a few seconds, the suspicion melted off his face. "You will handle Daisy's meals from now on," he stated, his voice completely devoid of warmth.

Just like that, I settled into my new routine as Daisy's personal chef. Not only was I cashing a massive paycheck, but I also got to spend my days with my daughter.

Gideon dragged Daisy practically everywhere. When he was tearing apart executives in his home office, she would be sitting on a plush rug nearby, playing with her toys.

Until one afternoon, I showed up at the estate with a fresh haul of groceries, only to find the billionaire missing in action. It was just Daisy and the staff.

I didn't think much of it, assuming a corporate fire needed putting out.

But as I was feeding Daisy her puree, she suddenly piped up. "Arranged marriage… what is it?" The silver spoon froze halfway to her mouth. "An arranged marriage?" Daisy gave a solemn nod. "Daddy getting an arranged marriage." A dull ache pulsed behind my ribs.

It made logical sense. He was the head of a massive empire, raising a toddler alone. He needed a wife, and his family needed a strategic alliance.

I had a System mission to complete; I couldn't selfishly expect him to stay a mourning widower forever. A highsociety marriage of convenience was the most predictable outcome.

I forced the stiffness out of my shoulders and offered her a soft smile. "It means… Daddy is going to find a new auntie, and you'll all live together." Daisy instantly shook her head.

She leaned forward, pressing her soft cheek against my arm. "No new auntie. Want Stella." A heavy sigh slipped past my lips.

I opened my mouth to reply, but the sharp click of designer heels echoed from the doorway. "You really don't want an auntie?" We both whipped our heads around.

A stunning woman draped in headtotoe couture stood in the archway. Her calculating gaze swept over me, assessing and dismissing me in a single second.

She stepped forward and smoothly reached for the bowl in my hand, flashing a polished, entirely fake smile. "You must be the nanny. I'll take it from here.

You're dismissed." Daisy's tiny hands balled into fists. She looked ready to launch a massive tantrum, but clearly remembered her promise not to be a badtempered kid.

She just sat there, her little face turning red with suppressed rage. I narrowed my eyes.

Shifting my weight, I smoothly blocked the woman's access to my daughter. "I'm her nutritionist.

Feeding her is what I'm paid to do." "Who exactly are you?" The woman let out a musical little laugh. "Me? I'm Genevieve.

Gideon's… fiancée." The word had barely left her glossed lips when a low, dangerously calm voice rolled into the room. "Genevieve." Genevieve snapped her mouth shut.

She leaned in, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper just for me. "Oops.

We weren't planning on taking it public just yet." "Be a doll and keep that to yourself, okay?" With a dismissive pat, she shoved the bowl back into my hands and straightened up.

A few minutes later, Gideon's parents arrived. They commandeered the adjacent formal living room, diving straight into the logistics of the upcoming merger.

I finished feeding Daisy, spent another half hour building blocks with her, and started packing up my things.

Just as I zipped my bag, Genevieve sauntered back into the dining area. "Forgot my purse.

Just grabbing it." I paid her zero attention, slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading for the massive front doors.

I was two steps away from freedom when Genevieve's sharp voice rang out from the dining room. "Where is the diamond bracelet from my purse?

It's gone." My stomach dropped like a lead weight. I turned around. The head butler was already rushing over. "Please don't panic, Miss Genevieve.

Your bag has been in the dining room the entire time.

The bracelet must have slipped out." But after the staff tore the room apart, there was absolutely no sign of the missing diamonds.

Chapter 7 Genevieve bit her lip, putting on a perfect display of manufactured hesitation. "The only people in the dining room with my bag were Daisy and… the nutritionist." The head butler instantly caught her drift.

Between the billionaire's future wife and an hourly employee, the hierarchy was absolute.

He turned to me, his tone meticulously polite but incredibly firm. "Miss Stella, did you happen to see Miss Genevieve's bracelet?" I shook my head.

Genevieve’s voice trembled, a manufactured tear shining in her eye. "That bracelet was a gift from my late grandmother. Please, just let me take a quick look inside your bag.

Please?" My brow furrowed. Without breaking eye contact, I subtly shifted my weight and glanced into the open main compartment of my tote bag.

Sure enough, glinting in the dark corner, was a blindingly expensive diamond bracelet. When I didn't immediately hand it over, Genevieve didn't wait.

She marched over and lunged for the handles of my tote. I tightened my grip, refusing to let go while my brain scrambled for a way out of this trap. But Genevieve yanked hard.

In the ensuing struggle, my bag twisted and flipped. Everything spilled onto the floor with a chaotic clatter.

The diamond bracelet hit the hardwood, sliding directly into the center of the room. Daisy waddled over, but her eyes completely ignored the sparkling diamonds.

She let out a curious "Huh?" and pointed a chubby finger at a completely different item that had tumbled out.

It was an incredibly ugly, massproduced little cat keychain. "Ugly kitty," she announced. "Daddy has one too." The air stalled in my lungs. I whipped my head around.

It was the matching keychain I bought with Gideon back when we were still in that sickeningly sweet talking phase.

We had walked past a cheap street vendor and spotted the painfully ugly set—one dog, one cat.

I bought them as a joke, gave him the dog, and kept the cat clipped to the inside zipper of my bag ever since.

Daisy bent down, snatched the ugly cat off the floor, and bolted straight toward Gideon. "Daddy look! Matches the doggie." Instantly, the framedfortheft drama ceased to matter.

Cold terror hijacked my nervous system as I stared at the keychain in my daughter's hand. Gideon, unable to see it, slowly reached out.

He took the cheap plastic between his thumb and forefinger, tracing the chipped edges and distinct, ugly shape.

The microsecond his fingers recognized the mold, his features turned utterly lethal. "Miss Qiao," Gideon said, his voice dropping into a deadly register that froze the air in the room. "Where did you get this?" I mentally cursed Genevieve and her entire bloodline, locked onto his dark, sightless gaze, and fired off my defense mechanism. "…Picked it up secondhand at a flea market for five bucks.

Do you want me to grab you one next time