Chapter 2
As the morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, I was still curled up on the sofa, draped in last night's coat.
As I heard the sound of a key turning at the entrance, I sat up abruptly, a wave of dizziness washing over me.
Varys pushed the door open and walked in, his suit jacket slung casually over his arm, tie undone to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbone.
He frowned slightly at the sight of me and asked, "You stayed up the whole night?"
My lips parted, but my throat was so dry that no sound came out.
The TV screen remained frozen on last night's news footage—Varys and Brianna toasting each other at the party, their eyes meeting in a shared smile.
His gaze followed mine. Without the slightest change in his expression, he headed straight for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
"The media just loves to speculate wildly," he said, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Parker Group is merely our business partner for overseas projects, and nothing more."
I clenched my fists, nails biting deep into my palms.
"She looks so much like me," I blurted out.
Varys paused when he was sipping water. He then set down the glass and strode toward me.
He loomed over me, his gaze inscrutable.
He cupped my face, his thumb softly tracing one of my eyes. "Jennie, are you questioning me?"
His touch still made my heart race, even though at that moment, I felt like I was falling apart inside.
I mustered up the courage to meet his gaze. "I just want to know what's really going on."
He leaned in, his warm breath brushing against my neck as he whispered in my ear, "The truth is, you're my girl, one I've kept for three years. She's just a business partner."
He straightened up, produced a velvet box from the pocket of his suit, and handed it to me. "I saw this at a jewelry store yesterday. Thought it'd suit you."
The box opened to reveal a diamond necklace. The center stone, at least five carats, glittered with a frosty glimmer.
This was his go-to way of making amends—showering me with lavish gifts but little love.
I took the box, forcing a smile. "Thank you."
Varys gave my hair a satisfied ruffle, then turned on his heel and walked toward the bathroom.
"I have a meeting at 10. Don't bother making me breakfast," he said.
With the sound of running water in the background, I reached for my phone with trembling hands, opened my photo gallery, and zoomed in on the news screenshot from last night.
Brianna had a beauty mark by the corner of her eye—something I lacked.
She had a more pointed chin and a more defined nose.
But our face shapes, hair color, and even the curve of our lips when we smiled, looked like carbon copies of each other.
Memories from three years ago came flooding back like a tidal wave.
Back then, I'd just graduated from college and was working at a café to pay off my mom's medical bills.
The moment Varys stepped into the café, all the female customers inside seemed to hold their breath at once.
He came straight to me, ordered an Americano, and fixed his gaze on my face for a good ten seconds.
He spoke up, his voice deep and magnetic, "What's your name?"
"Jennifer," I answered.
"Jennifer," he murmured, as if savoring the name. "It suits you perfectly."
The next day, he returned with a bouquet of white tulips.
A month later, I moved into his apartment.
Back then, Varys was so attentive and doting that he'd drop everything at work just because I said I wanted to go to the beaches. When I caught a cold, he'd stay up all night taking care of me.
It was on that rainy day, while I was searching for a book in his study, that I accidentally stumbled upon a photo hidden deep in one of his drawers.
The girl in the photo looked shockingly like me. On the back, it read: [Brianna's 21st birthday.]
That night, I cautiously asked about the girl named Brianna, and Varys's expression instantly turned icy.
"Just an old friend," he replied curtly. Then he pulled me into a kiss, cutting off all my questions before I could say another word.
In retrospect, that was the first time I realized his embrace was so cold.
The ringing of my phone snapped me out of my memory. An unknown number flashed on the screen.
I picked it up, and a melodious female voice came through the phone. "Hello, is this Ms. Jennifer Yates? This is Brianna speaking."
My heart clenched violently in my chest, my fingers tightening around the phone.
Her voice was sweet. "Sorry to bother you. I just got back not long ago, and Varys often mentions you. Would you do me the honor of joining me for afternoon tea?"
Every fiber of my being was screaming no, but before I knew it, I answered, "Okay."
Brianna said excitedly, "Perfect. Let's meet at the lobby lounge of Elysian Crown Hotel at 3 p.m. today."
After hanging up, I just sat there on the sofa in a daze. I had no idea why I agreed to such a ridiculous invitation.
Maybe I just wanted to see with my own eyes exactly what the woman I'd been a substitute for these past three years looked like.
Or maybe I just needed to see for myself if what Varys said was true—that she really was nothing more than a business partner.
At 2:30 p.m., I stood indecisive in front of my closet. In the end, I settled on a simple beige dress—not wanting to appear too deliberate, yet afraid of looking overly casual.
My hands were trembling so badly while I did my makeup that I had to redo my eyeliner three times before it looked even halfway decent.
The opulent lobby of the Elysian Crown Hotel left me feeling utterly out of place.
I had just settled onto the sofa when I caught the sound of light footsteps approaching.
"Hey, are you Ms. Yates?" Brianna inquired gently.
Looking up, I saw Brianna standing before me in a lilac dress, even more radiant in person than in the photos.
She carried a faint trace of perfume—the kind of exclusive niche fragrance that cost a fortune per drop.
"Glad to meet you, Ms. Parker." I rose to my feet, struggling to keep my voice steady.
She sat down across from me with a smile, elegantly crossing her legs.
"Just call me Brianna," she said with a gentle smile. "May I call you Jennie? That's what Varys always calls you."
My fingers tightened around the cup as I replied, "Of course."
As the waiter brought over a three-tiered tray of pastries and coffee, Brianna deftly dropped a sugar cube into her cup and stirred it gently.
"Varys always adds a sugar cube to his coffee ever since we were fifteen." She looked up at me and asked, "You two have been together for three years, right?"
"Mm-hmm." I nodded.
"Time really flies," she sighed. "He was only 25 when I left, and now, he's almost 30."
She paused meaningfully and then continued, "Does his stomach still bother him? And does he still work late, forgetting to eat?"
My heart sank. Varys really had chronic gastritis. It took me six months to find that out.
Yet she mentioned those intimate details with such effortless ease.
"Occasionally," I answered with forced composure.
"That's typical men, huh? They never know how to take care of themselves," she said with a light laugh, shaking her head. "Back when we lived at Fenn Mansion, I'd often get up at midnight just to make him food."
Fenn Mansion? He never took me to that place.
Varys had only said it was the old residence left vacant after his father's stroke. It was gloomy and oppressive, unfit for living.
Brianna seemed to sense my confusion, a knowing gleam flickering in her eyes.
"Hasn't Varys ever taken you to that house? We made countless memories there." She took a delicate sip of her coffee and added, "But I suppose it's understandable, after all..."
She abruptly stopped, as if she'd let something slip.
"What?" I asked.
"Never mind." She deftly changed the subject. "Do try the scones here. They're the chef's signature."
The conversation that followed was like a carefully staged torture.
She "casually" dropped childhood memories with Varys, their mutual friends, even hinting that Varys's mother had long seen her as Varys's future partner.
"Oh, by the way—" As she was about to leave, Brianna produced a gilded invitation from her handbag and said, "Mrs. Fenn's birthday party is next week. She asked me to invite you."
I received the invitation. The gilded "Fenn" on it stung my eyes. I replied, "Thank you. I'll think about it."
"Promise me you will be there," she cooed, grasping my hand with calculated warmth. "Varys tells me you have excellent taste in gifts. Mrs. Fenn is particularly fond of orchids."
She leaned in and whispered, "Just don't be so nervous. Though Varys is a playboy, he'll come home in the end."
That remark felt like a knife stabbing right into my heart.
I forced a smile and I watched her leave, but the moment she was gone, I bolted into the restroom and retched violently over the sink, tears streaming down my face.
As she stepped out of the hotel, a misty rain began to fall.
I didn't bother calling a cab. Instead, I just kept walking aimlessly through the streets, letting the rain soak right through my clothes.
My phone buzzed in my bag—it was Veronica Anderson, my best friend.
"Jennie, guess who I ran into at the law firm today? Brianna! She was consulting about a cross-border M&A deal," Veronica exclaimed over the phone.
I stopped in my tracks, rain—or maybe tears—slipping down my cheeks. "H-How do you feel about her?"
Veronica replied, "All elegance on the surface, but full of schemes underneath."
She dropped her voice and said, "I overheard her talking with her partner—she came back to take over Fenn Group's overseas stakes. And that's not all..."
She hesitated before adding, "She mentioned your name—said something about the substitute should exit stage left."
My blood ran cold, and I asked, "What else did she say?"
"I didn't catch all the details, but Jennie, you need to watch out for this woman," Veronica said worriedly. "There's more to her than meets the eye."
After hanging up, I stood alone in the rain, utterly drenched, overwhelmed by a loneliness I'd never known before.
I spent three years thinking I was at least a part of Varys's life, only to find I was just a replaceable trophy all along.
The apartment was pitch-dark when I finally returned.
Pushing open the door, I found Varys home unusually early. He was sitting on the sofa, poring over some documents.
"Where have you been?" he asked without looking up.
"I met Brianna," I replied bluntly, watching closely for his reaction.
His fingers paused for a moment on the document before he turned the page. "What did you talk about?"
"She invited me to your mother's birthday party," I said, my eyes fixed on his face. "And she told me you two have known each other since you were fifteen."
Varys finally looked up, his eyes unreadable. "Jennie, don't set yourself up for disappointment."
"What do you mean by that?" My voice trembled. "She was the one who wanted to see me. She told me you lived together at Fenn Mansion, and your mother loves orchids. She even told me..."
My voice broke as I said, "I'm nothing but a substitute to you."
Varys shot to his feet in one swift motion and clamped down on my wrist with a vice-like grip.
His voice was like shards of ice. "Had enough of your drama or not? Haven't I given you enough? A big house, jewelry, your mother's medical bills—which of these didn't come from me?"
My vision blurred with tears as I replied, "I never asked for any of this..."
"Then what do you want?" he sneered. "Love? Marriage? Jennifer, don't be so naive."
His words struck like a slap across the face, jolting me into painful clarity.
Yeah, what was I even expecting?
From the very beginning, this was never an equal relationship—it was a transaction. He bought my youth and company, and in return, I took his money and protection.
"I get it now." I wiped away my tears and wrenched my hand free. "I'll stay in my lane."
Varys frowned, unsettled by how abruptly I'd become compliant. He reached out as if to touch me, but I sidestepped his grasp.
"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep," I said flatly. Without another glance, I strode toward the bedroom and shut the door, leaving him and his gaze firmly on the other side.
Lying in bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Veronica's words echoed in my ears: The substitute should exit stage left.
Perhaps it was really time for me to leave.