Chapter 4

"Andrew," I said, setting my wine glass down and meeting his gaze. "We've been together for so long, but you've never said you love me."

His smile faltered for a moment.

"Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?" he asked, reaching out to touch my face. I dodged.

"I just want to know," I said stubbornly, holding his gaze. "Do you love me?"

The soft glow of the restaurant lights fell across his face, and for a split second, something flashed in his eyes—gone before I could grasp it.

"Of course," he finally said, his voice low and soothing. "I love you, Emily."

It was the first time I'd ever heard him say those words, and my heart twisted painfully, completely out of my control.

Even though I knew it was a lie, it still stung.

"Really?" I pressed, my eyes wide and hopeful. "Then, who do you love more, me or Isabelle?"

With a sharp clang, his fork slipped from his hand and hit the plate, the sound cutting through the air.

Guests at nearby tables turned to look.

Andrew's face darkened instantly. He stared at me, his eyes sharp as knives.

"Emily, do you even know what you're saying?" he snapped.

The stares from the people around us felt like needles pricking at my skin.

Andrew's face had returned to its usual calm, but his knuckles, white from tension, betrayed his anger.

"Emily," he said, his voice low and laced with warning, "don't bring up people who don't matter."

I pretended to be scared, my eyes quickly growing teary as I lowered my head and whispered, "I'm sorry. I just feel insecure."

It worked like a charm.

His expression softened, and he placed his hand gently over mine. "You don't have to compare yourself to anyone, honey."

How pathetic. I had to mimic the way Isabelle acted just to get a fleeting moment of his affection.

Dinner went on in a strange, delicate atmosphere. He was still thoughtful, cutting my steak and pouring my wine, but deep down, we both knew something had shifted.

As we were about to pay, his phone screen suddenly lit up.

I caught a glimpse of a message flashing on his lock screen: [My stomach still hurts. Can you come see me?]

It was from Isabelle.

Andrew's expression didn't change at all as he locked his phone and waved the waiter over to settle the bill.

"I'll take you home," he said, standing up and smoothly picking up my coat.

"That's okay," I replied with a sweet smile. "I'm meeting my best friend for some shopping nearby."

He visibly let out a breath, though he still pretended to be concerned. "Just be careful, and call me when you get home."

I nodded, watching his car disappear into the night.

The smile on my face vanished in an instant.

I whipped out my phone and called. "He's probably heading your way right now."

Isabelle's gentle voice came through the line. "Alright."

Once I hung up, I hailed a cab. "Driver, don't lose that black Bentley up ahead."

The car finally pulled up outside the most exclusive luxury apartment building in the city.

I watched as Andrew hurried out, barely even closing the car door before rushing inside. He really couldn't let go of his true love.

"Do you want me to wait, miss?" the driver asked.

"No, thanks," I said, handing him the fare. "Just take me to the nearest mall."

At the mall, I wandered around aimlessly, but my mind was racing, trying to figure out my next move.

There was definitely something going on between Andrew and Isabelle. If they were just childhood friends, he wouldn't get so defensive whenever I brought her up.

And if they were back together, why would he still keep me around as her substitute?

Unless Isabelle still hadn't agreed to get back together with him.

My hunch was confirmed the next day.

When I woke up early the next morning, Andrew was home already, making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Did you work late last night?" I asked, rubbing my eyes as I walked into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around him from behind.

His body tensed for a moment. "Yeah. Had a late-night meeting with some people overseas."

Total lie.

I could still smell Isabelle's favorite perfume on him.

"You must be exhausted," I murmured, pressing my face against his back, my voice muffled with sadness. "I couldn't sleep well without you."

He turned around and wrapped his arms around me. "I'll stay with you tonight."

It was almost laughable. He came back from another woman and still promised me the world without batting an eye.

I headed to work as usual that morning. As soon as I walked in, the receptionist said someone was here to see me.

In the lounge, Isabelle was sitting elegantly on the sofa in a Chanel suit, her air of sophistication impossible to ignore.

"Ms. Lane," she greeted me with a soft smile, "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all," I said, taking a seat across from her. "Is there something you need, Ms. Reed?"

She looked me over, her eyes finally locking onto mine. "Do look like mine."

Her words were gentle, but they stung like hell, like she'd just slapped me across the face.

"Andrew told you about us, didn't he?" Isabelle asked, lifting her coffee cup with that signature elegance. "About our history."

"Is there something going on between you two?" I replied, feigning innocence. "Andrew always said you're just family friends, and that he sees you as a little sister."

Isabelle smiled with a hint of sympathy. "Men and their egos, right? I was the one who ended things, after all."

She stirred her coffee slowly. "I spent three years in Parious, and he'd fly over to see me every month. When I came back, he pulled some strings to get me my job."

I got it.

Turned out I was not only a substitute, but also an episode in their whole romance.