When I heard those words today, I couldn't help it.

I laughed. Not out of humor, but disbelief. The kind of laugh that slips out when something absurd brushes too close to the truth.

The clatter of plates, the sharp scent of hot sauce, the steady hum of late lunch chatter around us—all of it faded to the background. My voice broke through the stillness between us.

"Samuel, after all these years, we've practically eaten every dish on this menu. The only one I've never touched is the stir-fried lamb offal. I don't like organ meat. I never have. So tell me… was the person you just described really me?"

He didn't answer right away. His hand paused mid-air, utensils hovering above the last of the cold noodles.

For a moment, nothing moved. Then, with care, Samuel set his utensil down beside his plate. He exhaled a long, steady breath, the kind that carries the weight of something final.

"Since you're asking so directly," he said, "I'll tell you the truth."

He looked at me then, unblinking.

"You're right. It wasn't you. It was her."

And just like that, he lifted his hand and pointed toward the entrance.

I turned to look.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I quickly turned around.

But there was no one standing there.

Samuel wasn't pointing at a person at all. His finger aimed at the crowded photo wall, at a candid picture of the two of us taken years ago.

He stared at it for several seconds, his expression softening with a quiet, almost bittersweet affection, before he looked back at me with a helpless smile.

"Leslie… come on. This place? It's ours. You really think I'd bring someone else here?"

He gave a soft laugh, half-shrugging.

"Look, I'm in my thirties. My memory's not what it used to be, alright? I forgot you don't like organ meat. That's all it was."

He paused, his voice softening.

"Those other women were just distractions. They never meant anything. The only person I've ever wanted for real, for forever, is you. Can't you believe that?"

The server, familiar with us for years, likely thought we were having a lovers' spat.

He intervened gently, attempting to help.

"That's right, Ms. Hutton. Plenty of customers have taken photos here, but the one of you and Mr. Grant is the most popular. People always say you look perfect together. And just look at how he gazes at you. You can practically see the affection. I can swear he's never brought another woman here."

I looked up at the photo and felt the world tilt for a moment.

I grew up in an orphanage. They told me my parents and older brother had been killed by business rivals, and our family's company was destroyed.

So, whenever I stood next to someone as dazzling as Samuel, I always felt a bit small.

But Samuel insisted that, in his eyes, I was the best.

When I had terrible period cramps, he'd cancel work, drive overnight from another state, and show up at my door with heating pads and a mug of warm brown sugar water.

When other students mocked me, calling me a bastard or a hillbilly, he defended me so fiercely that no one dared touch me again.

I fell for him, and I fell hard.

He told me he kept all those other mistresses only to avoid being pushed into a political marriage by his grandmother.

He said he didn't touch them because he didn't love them. And he didn't touch me because he treasured me. He wanted us to save our first time for our wedding night.

In the photo the server took, I had just accepted his confession.

My face had been burning red, too shy to look at him, staring at my food instead. And Samuel had rested his chin on his hand, gazing at me with warmth and affection overflowing from his eyes.

But later, it was that same man who shattered my belief in love.

That same man who ended my life with his own hands.

I stared at the photo on the wall. The colors had faded a little over time, but the memory it captured hadn't. My voice came out low, almost more to myself than to him.

"And what about Rhian?" I asked quietly. "She was your first love. If you had walked into her room that night by mistake... would all these words you just said be meant for her instead?"

My eyes stayed on the photo, but I could feel the weight of his silence behind me.

"After all, she and I were the only ones living on the second floor. Identical doors. Right across from each other."

I finally turned to look at him.

"You're barely home. Mixing them up would make sense. Otherwise, why would you tell us to decide ourselves who should carry your child?"

The hand he had placed on my shoulder tightened slightly.

Samuel let out a quiet laugh, the kind that carried more disbelief than amusement. He shook his head slightly, as if even recalling it now felt absurd.

"I dated her for, what, a few days in high school? We didn't even hold hands. Once we figured out we weren't a good match, that was it. She was a tomboy back then. Honestly, I don't think she even knew if she liked me or just thought of me as one of the guys."

He looked at me carefully, his voice dipping lower.

"Later on, she only started clashing with you out of spite. You know that, right?"

He took a breath, the weight of old choices flickering across his expression.

"When I said what I did, it wasn't because I felt anything for her. I didn't want her to get competitive and stir up drama that would hurt you. I was trying to protect you."

A silence settled between us before he added, almost gently, "Now there are five days left. Whatever happens between you two, I still want you to give me a child."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes meeting mine—the edge of frustration melting into something more vulnerable.

"You little troublemaker. You got jealous for no reason, made me sit in ice water all night, and then told me you slept with someone else. Do you know what that did to me? I thought my heart was going to fall apart."

On this point, Samuel was not mistaken. When Rhian and Samuel reunited after years apart, I had just started dating him.

When his friends saw Rhian again, with her short hair and tougher-than-most-guys attitude, they immediately began teasing.

"Sam, all those years we kept telling you to go find a woman, and you never listened. I honestly thought you were still hung up on that high school first love of yours."

"But now it's obvious. You didn't have the time. Look at her. She's more macho than I am. How could she ever compare to Leslie, who's soft and sweet? Can this girl even get married in this lifetime?"

Humiliated, Rhian unleashed a colorful stream of curses on them before storming straight to Samuel and forcing him to take her in as the eighteenth mistress.

The first time she saw me, she instantly puffed up like a fighting rooster. She didn't resort to any cheap tricks; she just refused to lose.

Later that day, when I got into the passenger seat of Samuel's car, he suddenly buried his face against my neck.

His voice came out rough and low, like it had been sitting in his chest for a long time.

"Alright, babe. If you're really that worried, I'll register the marriage and hold the wedding in five days. We'll treat that night as our wedding night. How's that sound?"

He moved in closer, eyes locking onto mine, his tone turning gentler but still intense.

"You smell excellent today."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm already reacting. If the doctor hadn't warned me, I probably wouldn't be able to hold back."

My face heated instantly, and I pushed him away, flustered. "Stop it. People can see. It's embarrassing."

"There's no rush on getting the marriage certificate," I continued, trying to steady my voice. "We haven't conceived yet, and I don't want Evelyn getting upset. But we can hold the wedding. That'll make Rhian give up. You know she and I are mortal enemies. After being crushed under her for so long, I need to regain some face. So five days from now, I want the grandest wedding possible. Not only the elites of Harbor City, but all of the major media outlets are livestreaming it."

Only then did Samuel relax. He smiled and agreed easily.

I knew he still had work to handle, so I let him drop me off and said I would take a taxi home.

As soon as his car disappeared around the corner, the smile on my lips dropped instantly.

I turned back toward the restaurant and stepped inside.

Sliding a few bills across the counter, I said, "Excuse me, I'd like to buy the photo from earlier."

"Huh? Ms. Hutton, that's your own photo. Of course, you can have it."

"No. Besides that one… I want the other one too."

...

By that afternoon, the news that Samuel and I would be holding a wedding had spread across all of Harbor City.

When I returned to the Grant mansion, the villa was unusually quiet.

Rhian stood in the living room with her fists clenched, glaring at me. "They're all gone. Why are you still here?"

Since the wedding was officially set, Evelyn had dismissed the other mistresses to preserve the family's reputation.

"Leslie, you're a damn walking disaster!" Rhian snapped, storming toward me with her hand raised high.

For a second, I honestly thought she planned to hit me before leaving, as if we had not fought enough already.

She was half a head taller than me, and there was no way I could win.

"You—"

But before she could finish the sentence, she lunged forward and wrapped me in a tight hug. Her arms were shaking, and then the tears came, sudden and raw.

"You little potato," she cried into my shoulder. "You're good at everything. So why are you completely romance-brained?"

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, her face flushed and streaked with tears. Her breath hitched, but her voice was steady.

"After everything you've been through, you still haven't learned? I swear, I want to smash you with a hammer."

She gripped my arms, her eyes burning into mine. "Listen to me. While Evelyn is busy planning that wedding... run away with me."

I never imagined Rhian would ever move me like this. I gently patted her back and sighed helplessly.

"Why are you crying? We're not even getting the marriage certificate. Besides, I only agreed to hold the wedding. I never agreed to consummate anything."

Rhian froze immediately. Fear stiffened her entire body.

I softened my tone and added, "Don't worry. I won't let him touch you either."

...

Later that night, Rhian confessed in defeat, shame written all over her face.

"I'm useless. I talked to them all day and learned absolutely nothing. Now they've all moved out, and no one knows where they went. How the hell are we supposed to find that bastard's precious sweetheart?"

I wiped away Rhian's tears and said softly, "There's no need to keep looking. I already know who it is. And as for the uterus transplant, they would never agree."

Samuel's words earlier had been persuasive, almost enough to influence someone who wasn't paying attention. But he missed one crucial detail.

I am no longer the woman who catered to his every preference.

He told me I smelled good today, that I made him react.

Yet the perfume I wore was Empty Valley Orchid, the scent he despised most.

In my first life, I only bought it by accident, some time after we got married. When I leaned in to hug him back then, he pushed me away immediately.

Pinching his nose with a look of pure disgust, he snapped, "It reeks. And with that pregnant smell of yours, it makes me want to vomit. Do not ever wear it again."

So the person who aroused him today was not me. It never could have been.

"Why wouldn't they agree?" Rhian demanded. "They get to marry the person they love and have their own kid. Why wouldn't they want that? Are they stupid?"

I smiled quietly and placed the two photos side by side on the table.

Rhian looked at the picture of Samuel and me and rolled her eyes in annoyance. But as she examined the photos, her expression changed. Confusion disappeared, replaced by surprise, which then turned into shock, and by the end, she looked utterly horrified.

"Holy crap. Don't tell me it's what I'm thinking," Rhian blurted.

I replied, "It's exactly what you're thinking."

If Samuel hadn't tried to use that first photo to evoke my emotions, I might not have looked at the photo wall so carefully. And if my mind hadn't been clearer in this life, I might not have noticed the second photograph hidden away in a neglected corner.

The scene was the same. The angle was different. And the meaning completely changed.

Back then, the tenderness in Samuel's eyes had not been directed at me. He'd been looking past me, at the person standing behind me.

Later, when I paid someone to retrieve the surveillance footage from that day, it became even clearer. The moment Samuel reacted earlier, that same person was only a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall.

No wonder he insisted that either Rhian or I must carry his child.

With that revelation, everything finally made sense.

A sudden knock on the door pulled us both from our thoughts.

A striking man stood outside, dressed in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses. His refined features hinted at a quiet danger in his presence.

Rhian grabbed my arm and pinched it repeatedly, her eyes sparkling. "Oh my god. He's so handsome! Who is he? And why does he look like you?"

The man stepped toward me with a warm gaze and extended his hand. "You must be Leslie. I am Elliot. Your older brother."

It was only then that I realized I was not alone in this world after all.

My brother wanted to take me home immediately, but I explained my plan thoroughly. I needed to stay until everything was settled. Only then would I leave with him.

After Elliot left, Rhian stared at me in disbelief. "Girl, your brother is extremely powerful. Even if you break off the wedding, nothing is going to happen to you. Why not just leave with him?"

I continued looking through wedding dresses and gave a small smile. "Because Samuel needs to pay for what he did to us."

Rhian was quiet for a long moment.

Then, she suddenly threw her arms around me, hugging me tight. "That is righteous. I have decided. I am taking a blood oath with you. Sworn sisters, ride-or-die."

I pushed her away with a grimace, though I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"No blood oath. I am scared of pain. But sworn sisters work."

She clapped her hands excitedly. "Then I am staying a few more days. I want to watch that bastard crash and burn with my own eyes."

When the wedding day finally arrived, the ceremony had not even begun.

Samuel kept tugging at his tie, irritation visible on every line of his face. His eyes kept drifting toward the entrance, and each time he looked, his disappointment grew deeper.

Acting as if I hadn't noticed, I handed him a glass of red wine. "Nervous? Have a drink and calm down."

He downed it immediately and muttered a strained thank you.

It didn't take long before he began to sway, clearly dizzy.

As he stumbled, I reached out and steadied him.

"Let's get you to the suite upstairs to rest for a bit," I said gently. "We still have plenty of time."

By the time we reached the corner of the hallway, Samuel was already too disoriented to think clearly. He didn't notice at all that the bride next to him, wearing the same wedding gown, had been switched out.

I paused long enough to watch the two of them wrapped around each other as they entered the suite. A slow smile curved my lips.

'Samuel, enjoy this moment with your sweetheart. Because very soon, you will become the biggest joke in all of Harbor City.'