From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 34: A Suspicious Change

Lucas' breath hitched, and a familiar warmth pooled low in his stomach.

But Riley's period wasn't over yet—so it wasn't like he could do anything about it anyway.

What really messed with his head was the memory of switching those pills just a little while ago. Guilt sat heavy in his chest, making it hard to look his wife in the eye with a clear conscience.

His thoughts were all over the place.

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was the manager from the jewelry boutique.

"Mr. Ashford, good evening. Sorry to call so late.

"It's about the custom piece you commissioned. Mrs. Ashford has finalized the design, and as you requested, we've put it on priority production..."

The manager was about to dive into the details—what stones Riley had picked, the setting style, all of it.

Over by the vanity, Riley was drying her hair. Her hands were still slick from the shower, and suddenly the hairdryer slipped from her grip. It hit the floor with a loud clatter.

She gasped softly.

"You know what, don't explain anymore," Lucas cut the manager off, his tone abrupt. "Just do whatever she asked. Put everything on my account—I don't need the details."

He ended the call before the manager could reply, as if shutting out one more voice might quiet the noise in his own head.

Trying to make up for something—maybe everything—he walked over and picked up the hairdryer. "Here, let me help," he said.

Riley sat at the dressing table, watching him through the mirror. Her gaze was clear, steady, almost too knowing.

She didn't refuse. A faint, perceptive smile touched her lips. "Since when are you so helpful?" she said, her tone deceptively light. "Doing something behind my back and feeling guilty about it?"

It sounded like a joke, but each word landed like a pin somewhere tender in his chest.

Lucas' hand stilled around the hairdryer. His heart gave a hard, uncomfortable thump.

He looked away from her reflection, quickly masking his expression with a strained laugh. "Come on, don't be like that. I've dried your hair before."

The warm air hummed between them as his fingers moved through her damp strands.

But the effort felt hollow, and it didn't last.

Maybe it was just in his mind, but the herbal scent on Riley after her shower seemed stronger tonight.

It mixed with her body wash—a clean, floral fragrance—but underneath it was that pungent, medicinal smell, like she'd steeped in a pot of herbal tea. It filled the air, clinging to his senses.

He really couldn't stand it.

Almost without realizing, his hands slowed to a stop.

Before her hair was fully dry, he made up an excuse. "You know, I just remembered—I've got a conference call. You finish up. I'll be in the study."

He set the hairdryer down on the vanity and left the room without looking back.

Riley watched him go, then slowly lifted a section of her still-damp hair, twirling it around her finger.

A slight, quiet smile curved her lips.

Exactly what she'd hoped for.

She took her time drying the rest of her hair, then poured herself a glass of water.

Back at the vanity, she unscrewed the cap of her pill bottle and tapped two tablets into her palm, just like every other night.

But this time, under the bright vanity lights, something caught her eye.

The color looked... off.

Her usual pills were a consistent deep brown. These two were close, but in certain light, they showed slight unevenness—flecks of a duller tone, and the surface looked less polished.

A cold ripple ran through her.

She didn't react outwardly, just studied the pills for a long few seconds.

Then, calmly, she tipped them back into the bottle.

She wouldn't take them tonight. Not until she was sure. Tomorrow, she'd check with Lydia.

When it came to what went into her body, it was better to be safe.

The next morning, Riley stopped by Lydia's private practice early.

"You look tense," Lydia said, handing her a mug of coffee. "What's going on?"

Riley reached into her bag and placed the two pills onto a clean tray on the counter.

"Can you check if these are mine?"

Lydia paused, then picked one up, bringing it close to smell. Her brow furrowed.

She set it on a white porcelain dish, took a small glass mortar, and gently crushed it. The pill broke apart easily.

Lydia pinched a bit of the powder, rubbing it between her fingers as she examined it.

Within half a minute, her serious look shifted into something colder—a sharp, knowing smirk.

"These aren't yours," she said, wiping her hands on a tissue. "Not even close to what I formulated for you."

Riley had suspected it, but hearing it out loud sent a chill straight through her.

"The ones I gave you were basically placebos," Lydia went on, "but they were blended to leave a strong herbal scent after taking them. These... these are something else."