"Robert Anderson, you’ve been using Grace Taylor as your practice for four years, and now, it’s finally paying off, right? In a sea of people, finding someone who looks this much like her isn’t easy. I’ve got to hand it to you, Robert. You’ve got some serious skills."

Practice? Stand-in? What does that even mean? Outside the room, Grace froze, her hand still hovering mid-air, just about to open the door.

Her body was slick with sweat, yet an inexplicable shiver ran down her spine, from her heart to the soles of her feet.

That voice was so familiar—Robert, chuckling softly, said, “In bed, I’ve always treated her like Evelyn Harris.”

Laughter echoed loudly.

"Remember when Evelyn dumped Robert? She said he couldn’t satisfy her, and Robert was really heartbroken for a long time. If you ask me, he was way too infatuated back then, way too inexperienced. But now, after four years of ‘practice,’ seeing Grace cling to you day in and day out, it’s clear how skilled Robert really is.”

A man’s teasing voice followed, “Now that Evelyn’s coming back, your experience is all set, but look at how your precious Grace is acting. Could it be that you’re actually falling for her? The pure love and the little obsession—why not go for both, right? Didn’t you say Grace was easy to handle?”

Through the cracked door, Robert lifted his foot, laughing as he kicked the man away. “Get lost. A tool is just a tool. How could she compare to Evelyn? A few more days of fun, and when Evelyn returns, I’ll toss her aside without a second thought.”

The buzzing in her head wouldn’t stop, and Grace dug her nails into her palm, but felt no pain.

Wiping the tears from her face, she staggered, lost, and turned away.

The wind howled outside, and the snow continued to fall.

Her mind was a storm of confusion. Suddenly, she remembered her third year of college when she first met Robert—it had been another snowy day.

She and Robert’s sister, Linda, were classmates and also best friends.

In the biting cold, Grace and Linda were having a snowball fight under their dorm building, and when Grace slipped and fell, she landed in someone’s arms.

Robert, who had been looking for Linda, stared at her face for a long while. From that moment, his relentless pursuit began.

For Grace, who had never been in a relationship, it seemed only natural that she’d be moved by him—not just because of his handsome face.

There was the coat he draped over her in the spring rain, the way his eyes shone like stars under the summer night sky.

In late autumn, when he gently wiped the medicine on the cut on her forehead with trembling hands, even the wind stopped, and the warm sun shone on that moment, forever lighting up her youth.

In winter, he gave her a scarf, hiding the little cuts on his hand from making it. She laughed, unable to imagine a man in a suit knitting a scarf.

Once they were together, he treated her even better, but he never publicly acknowledged their relationship. When she occasionally asked about it, he would gently caress her face and change the subject with a deep kiss.

But now she knew the truth—he had always been in love with someone else. She, Grace, had just been a tool for him to practice with.

Her thoughts were scattered as she walked aimlessly, not paying attention to her surroundings. The rush of wind from an approaching truck knocked her into the shards of glass at the bar’s entrance. The sting of pain on her cheek made her lower her head to see blood pouring from her hands.

Had she really hurt her face? If Robert knew, he would surely feel ‘heartbroken,’ right? After all, this was why he had pursued her in the first place.

Grace pressed her hand to her face and staggered toward the nearest hospital. She had a blood clotting disorder, and she feared the bleeding wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t risk passing out here and becoming another casualty, ruining someone else’s life forever.

The doctor furrowed his brows as he tended to the wound on her face. “Miss Taylor, you need to be more careful. You must avoid injury at all costs.”

She didn’t even know how she made it home. When she saw the framed photo, all the suppressed emotions poured out of her. She swept everything off the table, collapsed to the floor, and finally broke down in tears.

Four years of her youth—gone.

The shattered photo frame showed a smiling nineteen-year-old girl, carefree and happy, while the man beside her, wearing a coat, looked at her with a soft gaze full of affection.

She didn’t know how long she cried, until no more tears could come. Then, her phone rang, startling her in the silence of the room.

Peter Taylor’s number. Listening to the concerned voice on the other end, Grace croaked, “Brother, I’ve agreed to the marriage arrangement with the Clark family.”

This time, Peter was completely caught off guard. He had brought up the topic of the marriage arrangement several times before, but this was the first time she had agreed so quickly.

"Grace, are you sure you won’t regret this?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Well, I’m actually here on business for a few days, but I’ll be heading back to Eldara City in a week. You can come with me then," she replied, her voice soft.

"By the way, when are you free? We should go over the engagement details."

Peter spoke quickly, as if he feared she might change her mind. After all, he had mentioned several times how perfect the marriage candidate his family had chosen for her was.

Grace’s mind was still in a fog. She muttered a quick "good" and hung up the phone.

Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed and drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.

When Robert returned, it was already the next day.

He entered quietly and gently helped her take off her shoes, his voice full of tenderness and concern—nothing like the coldness from the night before at the club.

"You’re this tired? Not even taking off your shoes? Why didn’t you come to the gathering last night?"

Grace sat up, subtly pulling her foot back. "I wasn’t feeling well, so I didn’t go."

When his gaze fell on the bruise on her face, Robert’s expression shifted immediately.

"Your face..."

His worry was clear, and even his usually well-groomed brows furrowed in genuine concern.

He hurried to lift her up. "You have a blood clotting disorder. It’ll take longer to heal. Come on, let me take you to the hospital."

Despite Grace’s resistance and her insistence that her wounds had already been treated, he wouldn’t hear it.

"No, we need to see an overseas specialist. Don’t worry, I won’t let any scars stay on your face."

He didn’t seem to notice her swollen eyes, nor the hoarseness in her voice. He didn’t see the broken heart she was trying so hard to hide.

He only cared about her face. As expected.

On the way to the hospital, Grace dozed off in the passenger seat, but then suddenly lurched forward.

She frowned slightly, looking at Robert, who had just slammed on the brakes.

He was shaking as he held the phone, his voice trembling with excitement, but the joy in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.

"You’re back? When did you get here? That’s great—I’ll come right away."

He turned to Grace, forcing a smile. "Sorry, Grace. Something urgent came up. I’ve already arranged for the expert, so go to the hospital first, and I’ll come pick you up later."

Grace had clearly seen the name on the phone screen: Evelyn.

The dust kicked up by the car seemed to sting her eyes, but why did it also make her nose feel so sore?

She wiped her eyes dry, turned away, and hailed a taxi.

At the hotel, Peter noticed the dark bruise under Grace’s eyes and the injury on her cheek, his face hardening with concern.

"Tell me, who did this to you?"

When no one was around, Grace could hold back her tears, but in front of her family’s worried gaze, all her frustrations came flooding out.

She leaned gently into Peter’s embrace, but still hesitated, not wanting to worry him too much.

"I just accidentally bumped into something. I’m fine… just missing home."

Peter didn’t press her further, only sighing, his tone one of helpless affection.

"At your age, still acting like a little girl. You’ll be home in a few days. Take care of the business here, and get ready to be a bride."

"Trust me, the guy I’ve picked for you is perfect. He’s definitely someone who deserves my little sister."

"Okay."

Just as Grace was about to head home to pack her things, her phone rang. It was Robert. His voice was filled with urgency and worry:

"Where are you? Why aren't you at the hospital? Come quickly."

Hadn’t he gone to be with Evelyn?

Despite the numbness in her heart from the pain, a small flicker of warmth stirred within her. Grace couldn’t help but laugh at herself, silently. The truth was right in front of her, yet a part of her still clung to a tiny bit of hope.

When she arrived at the nurse’s station, she found Robert standing there, his face full of anxiety, waiting for her.

He rushed over to her, grabbing her arm. "Grace, you're RH-negative, right? Hurry, come with me. A friend of mine was in a car accident, and your blood type is the same as hers. Nurse, please, hurry!"

He was about to push her arm into the nurse's hands, but Grace jerked her arm back with force.

"I don't want to," she said coldly.

Robert’s face twisted with frustration. "Grace, what happened to you? I thought you were a kind person. It's just a little blood. It’s not like you’re going to die from it."

He turned sharply and, with a cold glare, pushed her aside. "Don’t you realize you’re abandoning someone who needs help?"

Grace, barely able to keep herself steady, was shoved against the wall. Before she could feel the pain, she heard the nurse’s surprised voice.

"You’re bleeding from your face."

The wound that hadn’t fully healed had opened up again. The young nurse immediately began tending to her, speaking as she worked.

"Good thing you’re in the hospital. This could have gotten worse if it wasn’t taken care of right away. You have a clotting disorder, so you can’t donate blood."

"But don’t blame your friend. He was just too anxious. You and his girlfriend have the same rare blood type."

The nurse paused, then continued, "The attending physician said his girlfriend’s injuries aren’t serious—just some minor cuts. She doesn’t need a transfusion. With rest, she’ll recover just fine. But he wouldn’t believe it."

The nurse looked at Grace with a touch of envy. "I kind of envy her. If I could find a guy like that, I’d be so lucky. You should’ve seen him when he brought her in. His eyes were all red from worrying about her."

So, he was still thinking about Evelyn.

Grace said nothing in response. After the nurse finished dressing her wound, she left for home, knowing she’d never be waiting for Robert again.

Sure enough, Robert didn’t return until after midnight.

In the darkness, Robert felt an unfamiliar sense of confusion. No matter how late he came home before, Grace had always kept the lights on, waiting for him. Then she would wrap her arms around his neck and tease him.

But tonight... nothing.

Guilt, mixed with an uneasy feeling, settled deep inside him.

He climbed into bed and gently held Grace’s slender form from behind, his voice muffled as he spoke, "I’m sorry."

"Grace... uh, my friend’s injuries were worse than I thought. I was so worried I forgot about your clotting disorder. You can’t donate blood. Please, don’t be mad. Can you forgive me? Please?"

He gently traced his fingers along her back in a familiar, comforting gesture—a gesture that had once meant quiet understanding between them.

But now, as he breathed heavily behind her, all Grace felt was bitter irony. She reached down and grabbed his hand as it moved lower.

For four years, she had given herself to him, believing it was love. But now, she realized that to him, she had always been nothing more than a useful tool.

Now that his "true love" had returned, wasn’t it time for her—the stand-in—to step aside?

With a cold indifference, she dismissed him. "I’m not feeling well."