Chapter 1

In the second year after Harper Jenkins married into the Parker family, she stumbled upon a heartbreaking truth.

She was a stand-in.

That night, the first rain of autumn poured down. Yael Parker didn't come back until late, the scent of alcohol clinging to him.

Harper was still awake. She sat by the window, quietly sewing clothes under the glow of a lone lamp. When she heard the door open, she looked up and saw him holding onto the doorframe, his face flushed from the drink.

She set aside her needlework and went to prepare some water for him.

"Why did you drink so much?" Harper brought the cup over to him.

He didn't take it.

She looked up, only to find Yael staring at her with an odd look in his eyes.

For the past two years, Yael had always looked at her with gentle, polite eyes, but there was always a touch of detachment. It was as if she were someone to be cared for, not his wife.

But in this moment, it was different.

There was a kind of light in his eyes, one Harper had never seen in him before.

"Lily," Yael said, his voice hoarse.

Harper paused, the cup still in her hand.

"At last, you've come back." He reached out to take her wrist. His touch was feverish.

Harper didn't move.

She stood there, watching him. She saw the light in his eyes, the faint smile at the corner of his lips, and the way he looked at her as if she were something precious he'd lost and gotten back.

But he wasn't seeing Harper. He was seeing Lily.

"I've been waiting for you for so long," Yael murmured. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?"

Harper looked down. Then she gently pulled her hand away.

He didn't even notice. He swayed and slumped against her shoulder.

She steadied him, helped him to the bed, took off his outer robe and boots, and tucked him in.

Throughout it all, her movements were as steady as ever.

Once she was done, Harper stood by the bed for a while, watching him.

He was asleep, his brow still furrowed, but the corners of his mouth curled up, like he was having a good dream.

Harper turned off the lamp and quietly left the room.

The moment she closed the door, the rain outside seemed to roar even louder.

She lingered under the eaves, not returning to her room.

The autumn rain was icy, stinging her cheeks. She looked up at the sky. It was so dark that she couldn't see a thing.

She stood there for a long time, long enough for her sleeves to be drenched and for her teeth to start chattering from the cold.

Finally, she turned and headed back to her own room.

*****

Early the next morning, Harper went about her morning as she always did.

When Yael woke up, he saw the water Harper had brought for him, took a sip, and asked, "Did I drink too much last night?"

Harper nodded.

Yael asked, "Did I say anything improper?"

Harper smiled, "No."

He handed the cup back to her and got up to change.

As he reached the door, he suddenly turned back. "Harper."

She looked up.

He looked at her, paused for a moment, then said, "Thanks for taking care of everything."

She smiled, saying nothing.

He left the room.

Harper stood there, staring at the closed door.

Thanks for taking care of everything? For two years, that was all he'd ever said to her over and over again.

He probably thought that was enough.

*****

Harper started to keep an eye out.

Once she grew suspicious, flaws seemed to pop up everywhere.

She had never set foot in Yael's study. He always said it was where he handled his work, and it wasn't her place to go in. She believed him.

But thinking back now, Harper realized the real reason she wasn't welcome there probably had nothing to do with work at all.

That day, while Yael was out on business, Harper entered his study for the first time.

The study was small and simply furnished. Books lined the shelves in neat rows, and the desk held a pen, paper, and an inkpot. Everything was meticulously arranged.

Harper glanced at the wall.

On the wall was a painting of a woman.

She stood with her body turned slightly under a tree, her face hidden in shadow. Her figure was sexy, her hair simply done up and pinned with an emerald hairpin.

Harper stepped closer.

The figure's silhouette was strikingly similar to hers.

The hairstyle matched the one she always wore.

That emerald hairpin was familiar. She instinctively reached up to touch the one in her own hair. Yael had put it there himself on their wedding day.

She'd worn it ever since, never once taking it off.

She leaned in for a closer look.

The emerald hairpin worn by the woman in the painting matched hers exactly.

Harper stood in front of the painting for a long time, unable to move.

Then she turned and opened the cabinet nearby.

Inside was a wooden box with no lock on it.

She opened it. Inside was an emerald hairpin.

It was identical to the one in her hair, but looked even more exquisite. One could tell at a glance it was a top-quality emerald from Sourthine.

Beneath the hairpin, there was a note.

On the yellowed paper, a line of elegant handwriting said: [I'll never forget your kindness in saving me, from Lily White.]

Harper put the hairpin back, closed the box, and placed it back exactly where she'd found it. She shut the cabinet door.

Then she left the study and gently closed the door behind her.

Back in her room, she sat at her dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror.

The woman in the mirror was twenty-five, pretty, and poised. She was the Jenkins family's heiress, now married into the Parker family.

For two years, she told herself she'd been a good wife.

She got up early to make him breakfast and always kept the light on for him when he came home late.

He never cared about the affairs of the estate, so she made sure everything ran like clockwork. He never laid a hand on her, and she never questioned it.

She thought he wasn't the warm type.

She believed that, given time, she could eventually thaw his heart.

But she was wrong.

She took the emerald hairpin from her hair and let it rest in her palm.

The hairpin felt warm, still holding traces of her body heat.

Two years ago, Yael had placed it in her hair. Her heart had raced, thinking it was a promise of love.

But it was nothing more than a way to comfort her.

She put the hairpin back in her vanity case. She didn't cry.

*****

It was a sunny day when Harper asked for a divorce.

Yael had returned from work, a hint of fatigue still on his face. Seeing her waiting by the study door, he paused. "Something you need?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

He pushed the door open and went in, with her following behind. "Go ahead."

She stood right in front of him, locking eyes with him. "Yael, let's divorce."

He stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. "What did you say?"

"Divorce," she said again.

He set down what he was holding, his brow furrowing. "Harper, do you even know what you're saying?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

She looked at him, her eyes steady. There was no resentment, no hatred, no tears. "You're in love with someone else."

Yael's expression shifted.

"I saw the painting," she said. "And the hairpin you kept in that box from Lily."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After a long silence, Yael finally said, "I can explain."

"No need." Harper shook her head. "I don't want explanations. Hand me the divorce papers."

He looked at her.

It was the first time in two years of marriage that he'd ever really looked at her.

He suddenly realized her eyes were beautiful, deep and glistening. But he couldn't find himself in them.

"Harper," he said, his voice dropping, "these past two years, I've—"

"You've always been polite, respectful, and decent," she cut in and gave a smile. "Yael, do you know what a woman fears most when she marries a man?"

He didn't say a word.

"It's not about him being poor, or busy, or having a bad temper," Harper said. "What scares a woman most is when she's not the one in her husband's heart."

She turned around and walked out.

At the door, she paused. "Yael, these past two years, I can hold my head high."

The door closed behind her. Yael stood there, not moving for a long time.