Chapter 1

After three years as Grace Evans's stand-in, I overheard Edward Foster on the phone. He said softly to Grace, "She only resembles you a little. She's not even worthy to be your shadow."

With a smile, I swallowed the abortion pills and vanished into the crowd.

*****

In the deep autumn of Olianken, fallen leaves blanketed the ground.

Charlotte stood on the top floor of Foster Tower, gazing down at the vibrant city through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Outside, rows of skyscrapers stretched into the distance, and the streets below bustled with endless streams of traffic. Standing there, she was like a canary locked inside an exquisite cage.

The secretary's voice sounded behind her, polite yet distant, "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Foster would like to see you."

Charlotte pulled her gaze back, adjusted her pricey dress, and followed the secretary down the long hallway.

Abstract paintings lined the corridor walls; each one cost more than she could have earned in three years waiting tables.

Now, she was married to the CEO of Foster Enterprises.

How ironic it was.

As she pushed open the office door, Charlotte saw Edward standing by the window, talking on the phone.

He wore a dark gray shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing off his lean, muscular arms. Just by standing there, he exuded a presence that made it clear strangers shouldn't come near.

Charlotte kept silent, lingering at the doorway.

"Yeah, I know," Edward said, his voice low and gentle—a softness Charlotte had never heard from him before. "Make sure you take your pills on time, okay? Don't make me worry about you."

Whatever the person on the other end said made him smile, and the coldness in his expression melted away in an instant.

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you," he said.

After hanging up, Edward turned around, the warmth still lingering on his face. But the instant he saw Charlotte, his warmth vanished, replaced by a chill that slowly settled over his features.

"What do you want?" Edward asked.

His words felt like ice.

Charlotte had grown used to the emotional chill he always showed her. She walked over calmly and replied, "Your mom wants us to come over for dinner this weekend."

"Okay," Edward replied.

He went back to his desk, sat down, and opened a file, without so much as a glance in her direction.

Charlotte lingered, her gaze fixed on Edward's lowered eyes. His long lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. After three years, his face was still unfamiliar.

"Anything else?" Edward said, raising his head, his brows furrowing slightly.

Charlotte shook her head and turned to leave.

As she walked out of the office, she caught the sound of a soft sigh from Edward behind her.

She didn't look back.

Back at the desolate villa, Charlotte flopped onto the sofa. The house was vast and empty, with only the housekeeper coming by at scheduled times to cook and clean.

Edward rarely came home, and even when he did, he'd sleep in the guest room.

From the very beginning, their marriage was a transaction.

Three years ago, Charlotte's mom got seriously sick and needed a ton of money for surgery. While she was crying her eyes out in the hospital hallway, a man in a suit walked up and handed her a business card.

"Mr. Foster wants to see you," he said.

And just like that, she stepped into Edward's world.

The first time Charlotte met Edward was in the hotel's presidential suite. He sat on the sofa, a contract laid out in front of him. He said directly, "I need a wife. You resemble someone I know. Three years, twenty million."

Charlotte stood there, stunned, unable to speak for a long moment.

"I can pay your mother's surgery costs upfront," Edward said, lifting his eyes to her, his gaze cold and appraising, as if she were just a product. "Think it over."

What was there to even think about?

Charlotte needed the money; her mom was stuck in a hospital bed, waiting for a miracle. He needed someone, a stand-in who looked just like the woman he couldn't forget.

It was almost too fair a deal.

Charlotte nodded.

On the day they registered their marriage, she was in a plain white shirt, he in a black suit. At the city hall, they took a photo together, both faces blank. There was no wedding dress, no rings, no congratulations.

That night, Edward took her to the villa, pointed at the master bedroom, and said, "This is your room." Without another word, he headed straight for the guest room himself.

For three years, the most intimate they had ever been was that one time she had a fever. Edward touched her forehead for three seconds to check her temperature, then pulled his hand back and told the housekeeper to take her to the hospital.

Sometimes, Charlotte couldn't help but think she was probably the most carefree rich wife in the whole city.

She didn't need to attend her husband's business dinners; there were no messy social circles to deal with. Every month, her bank account got a seven-figure deposit right on schedule.

The only thing she had to do was put on the face that reminded Edward of someone else, show up in front of him once in a while, to prove this marriage still existed.

What a joke.

Charlotte's phone buzzed. It was a message from her bestie, Sophie Lane. Sophie sent: [Charlotte, guess who I saw at the mall yesterday?]

Charlotte replied: [Who?]

Sophie: [Grace! You know, Edward's infamous first love. She's back.]

Charlotte stared at the screen, her fingers frozen in mid-air.

Her phone blew up with messages from Sophie: [She's even prettier than before. I heard she won a major award overseas, and now she's planning to build her career here. Charlotte, you should watch out.]

Watch out? What was there to watch out for?

Charlotte set her phone down on the sofa and closed her eyes.

She always knew her place.

She was a stand-in for Grace, a knockoff with similar eyes and brows. She was nothing more than a tool to fill Edward's emptiness for three years.

But why did it still hurt inside?

That night, Edward came home, a rare occurrence.

Charlotte was eating dinner in the dining room when he walked in. Her hand froze mid-air, fork still in her grip. The housekeeper rushed to set another place, but Edward waved her off, saying, "No need. I'm just grabbing something and heading out."

He went upstairs.

Charlotte kept eating with her head down, but she couldn't help listening for his footsteps. Edward stopped in the study, searching for something, then came back downstairs, passed by the dining room, and headed out the door.

"Edward," Charlotte called out.

Edward paused, but didn't turn around.

Charlotte watched his back, the words "Do you know she's back?" swirling on the tip of her tongue. But in the end, she simply said, "Don't forget to come home for dinner this weekend."

"Okay," Edward replied.

The door shut quietly behind him.

Charlotte stared at the plate of steak in front of her, but her appetite vanished.

She set her fork aside, got up, and walked to the window. Outside, Edward's black car was backing out of the garage, lurking in the shadows like a silent predator.

The headlights flashed on, and then he drove out the gate, vanishing down the street into the night.

Charlotte's phone buzzed again. Sophie sent: [Charlotte, I did some digging. Grace is teaming up with Foster Enterprises. Edward invited her himself. So... what are you going to do about it?]

Charlotte didn't reply.

What else could she possibly do?

The contract had only three months left. When the three years were up, she'd take the money and finally be free from Edward for good.

Only three months left. She could tough it out.