Chapter 2
Stanley moved without warning.
He snatched up the bottle of Royal Salute whisky in front of him and, without even aiming, swung his arm down hard.
A dull thud sounded.
The skinny playboy let out an inhuman scream of agony.
Blood gushed from his temple.
He pitched forward onto the floor, howling in pain.
Only then did Stanley slowly straighten up.
He casually flung aside the remaining bottle neck.
Then he walked right up to me.
He didn't look at me until he was standing just inches away.
He stared at me for a long time, something wistful in his eyes.
His palm rested on my cheek, feeling how I was shaking, how nervous I was.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice stiff and cold.
"You really do look like her. It's uncanny, just like Eileen in her younger days," Stanley said, his eyes lingering on me.
"It's a pity your boss sent you here. Lucky for you, but also unlucky," he added, a hint of irony in his voice.
"Because for the rest of your life, marriage is off the table. I won't let any man touch you," he declared coldly.
As he spoke, he lifted his chin slightly.
"And besides, you don't belong here," he added.
Stanley stashed me away in a villa out in Brookville.
Aside from a silent auntie, there was nobody else around.
She made sure I ate three meals a day.
She never talked to me about anything else.
Stanley just dumped me here.
No instructions, no deadline.
I couldn't care less.
Every day, I'd binge-watch Eileen and Stanley's love story, totally hooked.
I'd study old videos of Eileen, trying to mimic every little thing about her: her smiles, her frowns, every subtle expression, the curve of her smile, he way her gaze shifted, and the tilt of her neck whenever she looked down.
Little by little, I pieced together the story of this Brookville princess.
Anyone could tell Stanley hated the Eileen who kept fighting with him these days.
So I decided to become the sweet, obedient girl he remembered from the past.
I never once hoped he'd ever love me.
Honestly, my job was simple.
I just had to become the Eileen who used to love him to death, the one who was utterly devoted to him.
He liked Eileen from her teenage years.
Waiting was way more torturous than actually doing something.
But I had all the patience in the world.
"The haunting image of Donovan, his tragic figure, and the scene of him and his mother swallowing pesticide to end their lives, would haunt me every night, resurfacing as soon as I closed my eyes.
Those memories were enough to keep all my anxiety at bay.
Until that evening, right before the storm hit, the front door was kicked open with a bang.
Stanley walked in.
His hair was a mess.
He reeked of booze.
His eyes were wild with fury.
He spotted me right away, sitting by the living room window, pretending to read a book.
The moment our eyes met, he roared, his eyes red with anger.
He shouted, "Eileen, what the hell are you trying to do? Even abroad, you have to find a lookalike just to piss me off?
"Three years ago, when we had our first fight, I went out of my way to find a lookalike just to piss you off. That was on me.
"But ever since then, you've changed. You constantly bring it up just to get under my skin, and every time we fight, you keep using lookalikes to mess with me.
"You think I can't do the same? You think Stanley can't find a lookalike too? Are we just going to keep playing these games forever? When does it end? Do you even love me anymore? Do you still want to marry me?
"It's been three years, and you still can't let go of the whole lookalike thing? You're so damn petty, Eileen. Isn't it sickening
"Eileen, listen to me, my patience has limits. The day I walk away, you'll wish you hadn't pushed me this far..."
His chest was rising and falling hard, like he was finally unleashing emotions he'd never let out before.
I could even see a flash of satisfaction on his face, a kind of raw release.
It was the kind of satisfaction you get when you finally spill everything that's been bottled up inside.
Bet he hadn't had a real heart-to-heart with Eileen in forever.
By now, my eyes were already brimming with tears.
My gaze was full of panic and grievance.
I took a gentle breath, using the tone I'd practiced countless times.
It was timid, eager to please.
"Stanley..." I whispered.
Stanley just stopped dead, every move and sound cut off in an instant.
His rage froze on his face, and his eyes went blank, almost dazed.
For a moment, it was like he was seeing the Eileen he used to know.
That was her special name for him, the one only the woman he loved most ever used.
No one else had ever called him that. Not once, not in his whole life.
Now, I was the only other person to ever call him that.
Just then, from eyes that looked so much like Eileen's, a single tear slipped down.
It traced a path across my pale cheek.
For a split second, a flash of realization crossed Stanley's eyes.
The slap hit me so hard across the face.
The force knocked me straight onto the sofa.
"Who gave you permission to call me that?" he snapped.
Stanley let out a low, guttural growl.