Chapter 2

I stiffened.

Through the foggy mirror, I saw the two of us wrapped in each other's arms. Andrew had his eyes closed, looking utterly devoted. Mine stayed wide open, completely sober.

"Why so sudden?" I tried to make my voice sound choked up with surprise.

"When I couldn't find you today, I realized I can't bear the thought of losing you," he said, turning me to face him and locking eyes with me.

He continued, "Marry me, Emily. I want to wake up to you every morning. I want you to be completely mine."

How ridiculous.

After proposing to the woman he truly loved, he turned to propose to me.

Was it just because Isabelle shot him down again? So now I was just the substitute to patch up the hole in his heart?

I lowered my gaze, masking the emotions churning inside me.

Now wasn't the time to show my hand.

Andrew was the most prestigious nobleman in the capital, wielding enough power to crush me like an ant. Worse yet, he was dangerously obsessive. Love made him both anxious and unpredictable.

If he ever realized I'd seen through his game, no one knew what he'd do.

I needed time, a plan, and a way to make it out in one piece.

I lifted my eyes, doing my best to pull off that shy, slightly haughty look I'd seen in Isabelle's pictures.

"Let me think about it, okay?" I said softly.

Andrew was visibly stunned. It was clear he'd never expected me to hesitate, even just to ask for time to consider.

But he quickly regained his gentle demeanor and kissed my forehead. "Alright, I'll wait for you."

After he left the bathroom, I slid into the tub. The warm water wrapped around me, but it couldn't melt the cold that had settled deep inside.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

[Heard Andrew nearly got himself killed at the subway station for you today. What a dramatic act.

[But Emily, look in the mirror. Besides those eyes that barely resemble mine, is there anything about you that would make him look twice?]

It was Isabelle.

She knew, just like I thought she would.

I gripped my phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Turned out, the only reason I mattered was because my eyes reminded him of her.

All that frantic searching, all that obsessive waiting. It was just him staring at another woman through me, putting on a show of devotion for someone who wasn't even there.

And I had actually bought into it, thinking I was the leading lady.

The water was getting cold.

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror—dripping wet, staring at those eyes that looked so much like hers.

Suddenly, I laughed.

Andrew, Isabelle.

One of you treated me like a substitute, and the other acted like I was just disposable.

Hot water poured down over my head again, but I still felt chilled to the bone.

Isabelle's text was like a venomous snake, coiled tight in my chest, flicking its icy tongue at my heart.

I dried off slowly and then slipped into the silk nightgown Andrew had set out for me. He even remembered my favorite shade of lavender; he was all about the details. No wonder I'd fallen for his act so completely.

When I walked out of the bathroom, Andrew was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, talking on the phone.

"Yeah, it's fine now." His voice was low, a little impatient. "Isabelle, like I said, you don't need to worry about this."

Hearing her name, I stopped in my tracks.

He seemed to notice I was there, quickly said "I'll talk to you later" into the phone, and hung up. When he turned around, he was already wearing his usual gentle smile.

"All done with your shower?" he asked, walking over and reaching for my waist.

I pretended to fix my hair, casually sidestepping his touch.

"Who were you talking to just now?" I looked up at him, giving him an innocent look with just a hint of jealousy. "Was that a woman's name I heard?"

Andrew's gaze flickered for a moment, and then he chuckled. "What, getting jealous?"

He reached out and pinched my cheek, the gesture affectionate and easy. "It was Isabelle. She saw the news and called to see if we were alright."

How ridiculous.

Isabelle herself actually called to check on her own substitute?

"She sure keeps up with the news," I said, dropping my gaze and putting on a slightly hurt tone. "Do you two talk often?"

"Don't be silly," Andrew leaned down and kissed the top of my head, his breath warm. "She's just a family friend's kid. If anything, she's like a little sister to me."

Little sister, huh?

What kind of 'sister' sent those kinds of taunting messages?

What kind of 'sister' got a guy so hung up that he went looking for a substitute?

I let out a cold laugh inside, but on the surface, I put on a look of relief and snuggled up to him. "Andrew, I just... care about you so much."

He visibly relaxed, wrapping his arms around me and letting out a contented sigh. "I know."

See? He was soaking up my concern, my jealousy, and the whole fantasy of being truly loved.

"You must've been scared out of your mind today, huh?" He led me over to the couch and picked up a velvet box from the coffee table. "Take a look. Do you like it?"

He popped open the box, and inside was a diamond bracelet, delicate, sparkling brilliantly under the lights.

If this had been before, I probably would've been too touched to say a word.

But now, all I noticed was the tiny logo on the box, the logo of Isabelle's favorite jewelry brand.