The third time Russell Rowlett shattered a Limoges porcelain plate, the flying shards left several cuts on my face.

He said coldly, “Your breathing is off by two beats! She wouldn’t tremble like you!”

In the basement theater, a Hollywood film starring his first love was playing on a loop.

The Oscar-winning actress, whose features bore a seventy-percent resemblance to mine, had ruthlessly abandoned Russell two years ago. Since then, I have become her substitute.

“Again! Hit me! I told you! Hit me!”

“Mr. Rowlett, I… I wouldn't dare.”

“You’re still not her! Keep practicing! Until your acting is exactly like hers!”

“O-Okay.”

“And no dinner. She’s been on a diet for years. You should be too!”

A one-to-one replica. Bernadette Deschanel lived in dazzling brilliance while I existed in the shadows, as insignificant as an ant.

——

Russell hired a new acting coach for me—one-on/one private lessons, at an exorbitant price. But I knew the real reason—because that woman was using the same coach. Technically, it was a one-on-two.

“Between me and her, who’s the better actress?” I asked.

The coach hesitated. “Miss Tytler, you’ve never had a public film or television appearance, so it’s hard to compare.”

Right. I, Merylle Tytler, had only ever performed for one audience—Russell.

Russell—the billionaire CEO. Ever since the actress dumped him, his ego had been deeply wounded, and he’d grown more and more twisted.

Two years ago, he announced plans for a major international film and held auditions in over a dozen states. Out of tens of thousands, I was the one he chose.

I thought I was about to go from rags to riches, but instead of starring in a film, I became his well-kept canary in a gilded cage.

Being pampered in captivity would’ve been one thing, but God knows what kind of hell I was actually living!

Two years by his side, acting every single day. My skills had improved so much I could probably win an award.

Whenever the actress starred in a new film, Russell would make me reenact her performance at home. If I didn’t do it well, there would be consequences. I was nothing more than his hopeless, pathetic stand-in.

And that actress was a career-obsessed workaholic! She was already getting older, yet she still kept filming one project after another. Hadn’t she made enough money? Couldn’t she just settle down with her billionaire CEO?

To make things worse, the film industry had been struggling this year, so she switched to starring in web series.

If it were a film, it’d be just about two or three hours long, and her screentime would be at most a third of that. I could still squeeze in a manicure or skincare session while memorizing her scenes.

But web series? They ran for six to 13 episodes per season! Just studying her latest role had already consumed all my free time!

Thinking about that now, I hadn’t stepped outside in ages!

No matter how busy Russell was, he always came home for dinner. People said he couldn’t bear to be apart from me, but I knew the truth—he just enjoyed tormenting me.

Bernadette's latest role was a housewife who displayed exceptional cooking skills in the series. So, of course, he demanded that I cook just as well.

But I couldn’t cook! And it wasn’t just any cooking—it had to be top-tier Italian cuisine!

I protested, “The food in the series was fake! She didn’t actually cook it!”

But he wasn’t having it. That very night, he hired a Michelin-starred chef from Italy to train me!

I pulled three all-nighters and finally managed to create a meticulously plated molecular gastronomy dish featuring raw beef. It no longer even looked like beef—after all, the essence of molecular cuisine was breaking everything down to the molecular level.

“Perfect. This is the exact taste!”

Internally, I was beyond speechless. ‘You’ve never even tasted it! How the hell do you know it’s the exact taste?!’

That day, Russell wolfed down the whole plate of food and almost teared up.

Of course, my cooking skills were not to be trusted. The next day, he had severe diarrhea and missed an important meeting in London with major investors.

He completely lost it, saying that if it were the Best Actress, she would’ve handled the ingredients properly—because in her series, her on-screen husband ate the dish she made and was totally fine the next day. He sighed, saying, “Man, being the Best Actress’s husband must be a blessing.”

I imitated the Best Actress’s character, whimpering like a wronged little wife, staying silent while he threw dishes around.

By the time Russell smashed his third Limoges porcelain plate, shards flew up and left a few cuts on my face.

He stared at me coldly and said, “Your breathing’s off by two beats! She wouldn’t tremble like you. Even her fear? It has a quiet resilience to it!”

But in that series, the Best Actress played a pathetic housewife working as a chef in her husband’s restaurant, only to find out he was cheating with a young server. She confronted the mistress in front of the customers but got slapped hard by her husband. Heartbroken, she walked alone through the pouring rain and eventually met her true love. That’s how her story began…

Russell was cruel. He slapped me too.

“You’re such an ungrateful woman! Not only are you useless to my career, but you’re also dragging me down!”

Honestly, he should’ve been the one teaching acting classes.

My cheek burned with pain. The next day, when I went for a facial, the beautician asked about the red handprint on the left side of my face. I just laughed it off. “Just some bedroom fun with Mr. Rowlett.”

‘Bullshit!’

Sure, Russell bought me a designer bag worth over 30,000 dollars to make up for it, but I still felt miserable. How much longer do I have to live like this?

My contract was in his hands for a full ten years. Breaking it early meant paying a huge penalty, and the agreement even required me to earn a certain amount every month. I relied on the salary he gave me just to meet the contract’s terms.

“Mrs. Dunst took an emergency leave today, so no one made dinner at home.” That night, I stood humbly at the door, welcoming him back.

Lately, the Best Actress had been playing a career-driven woman who prioritized work over family, so Russell stopped forcing me to cook.

But his temper was just as bad. “Can’t you study her expressions and movements properly? She’s not playing a timid woman anymore. This month’s salary is gone.”

Oh, come on, Russell. You were the one who told me to act like her!

I slapped him—hard. A thunderous slap!

His face hurt. My hand hurt.

I demanded, “What’s your problem? If Mrs. Dunst wasn’t coming today, you should’ve told me earlier! What, you expect both of us to starve now?”

To my surprise, Russell’s expression shifted. He licked the slightly swollen corner of his lip, eyes turning sharp. “Hit me again.”

I froze. No way.

But he insisted, “I said, hit me again! Merylle, show me how much you’re like her! No, you are her!”

Gosh, he was insane!

I raised my hand high as he said…

But I hesitated.

I knew what kind of person Russell was. When he got into character, he really got into it. But once he snapped out of it, he’d settle scores with me.

So I wavered.

“Forget it,” he sneered. “You’ll never be her. Next month’s salary? It’s gone too.”

“What am I supposed to eat next month?”

“I already told you—I’ll cover your basic food and housing.”

“Then… can I sell the bag you bought me for money?”

“That bag was for her. Not for you! You can use it for now. But once she comes back, you’ll return it to her.”

“Hah, she’s willing to settle for my second-hand stuff?”

“Merylle, watch your mouth.”

Russell had already snapped out of character, back to his usual untouchable CEO persona. It had taken me a long time to figure out his rhythm and know when he’d switch like this.

“Sorry, Mr. Rowlett,” I said, knowing better than to push it.

“I have a dinner meeting tonight. Stay home.”

“What am I supposed to eat?”

“Actresses have to diet. She’s starving herself—why can’t you? Skipping one meal won’t kill you, you know. She never eats dinner, but she’s still alive.”

“She needs to stay camera-ready to make money. What about me? Am I shooting a film? Do I need to starve?”

Russell scoffed. “Who do you think you are to compare yourself with her?”

As expected, he left me home alone in the end. But what I didn’t get was—if he had a dinner meeting, why not just call or text? Why did he have to come all the way home just to tell me in person before heading out?

Russell… Mr. Rowlett… must have been so traumatized by women that he’s lost his mind.

I’d known about the rumors between him and the Oscar-winning actress years ago, back when they were all over the trending searches. That was when I had just gotten into one of the country’s top-performing arts schools, dreaming of becoming an actress. She had graduated from the same school, so back then, I used to look up to her.

But now, all I felt toward her was hatred.

I hated that I looked like a younger version of her. I hated that I ever attended Russell’s casting call. And more than anything, I hated that I didn’t have enough money to buy my way out of this nightmare.

Actually, no—lately, I did have some promising opportunities. Thanks to accompanying Russell to business dinners, I’d met quite a few promising young elites. They weren’t as rich as Russell, but paying my contract termination fee wouldn’t be a problem for them.

The only issue was my reputation. Everyone thought I was Russell’s wife. But Mr. Pure-and-Chaste CEO had never actually touched me—just some hand-holding and kissing at most.

I knew exactly what was going through his head. He was staying ‘faithful’ to that actress, his one true love.

He wasn’t afraid of me finding someone else. For one, he was confident in his status—no one dared to mess with what belonged to him. And two, he knew those rich playboys were only interested in a good time. When it came to actually spending a fortune on me, they’d all back out.

But they had no idea who they were dealing with. My acting skills were top-tier—I just never got the chance to debut.

Russell had trained me well. It was time to put those skills to use.

With Duke Wellington, I played the delicate damsel. With Lord Sinclair, I became a cold and commanding queen. With Mr. Harrington, I acted like the perfect devoted daughter. If each of them pitched in ten million, I’d have more than enough to buy my freedom!

My plan was already in motion. And when Russell finally realized I was gone, I’d stomp on his face in sky-high heels and make him badmouth his beloved actress a thousand times over.

He once said his ‘pure first love’ was untouchable—not even by himself.

That would be his worst nightmare.

That night, Russell came home drunk.

I was lying on my bed, starving, unable to sleep.

He must have opened the wrong door because he stumbled into my room.

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, reeking of alcohol.

Then, in a drunken murmur, he whispered her name.

“Why did you leave me? Is your career really that important? Isn’t it just about money? I could give you that—I could give you myself. And that thing… honestly, I already…”

I struggled to break free, but it was no use. His grip was too strong.