“My daughter will be back next month.” Mrs. Linwood's voice crackled over the phone line, smooth and cold. “Until then, keep pretending to be her. Don’t mess this up. Once everything’s settled, I’ll send you a hundred million. That should be enough for you to live however you want.”

“Okay.”

When I hung up, my eyes drifted toward the massive wedding portrait hanging over the fireplace.

Benedict stood tall in his black tuxedo, one hand in his pocket, expression unreadable. Cold. Powerful. Dangerous. And me? I wore a white gown I didn’t choose, smiling a smile that never reached my eyes. I looked so... obedient.

“It’s finally ending,” I whispered. “Six years… it’s almost over.”

Six years ago, the Linwood and Karsov families arranged a marriage that dominated headlines. Their daughter, Alodia Linwood, was to become Benedict Karsov’s bride. She was highborn, polished, bred for palaces. A real blueblood doll. The match was power and legacy sealed in diamonds.

But then Alodia vanished. Days before the wedding, she left nothing but a note.

“Mom. Dad. I know this marriage is my duty, but I can’t do it. I’ll come back after six years. Please… give me time to be free.”

She left, and the Linwoods found me while I was picking through trash to sell that day. Their car almost hit me.

Because I had Alodia’s face. Same build. Same hair, same voice if I softened it… they took me. I wasn’t their daughter, just a girl living with a sick grandmother who couldn’t afford another hospital stay.

So they offered me a deal. Put on the dress. Say the vows. Stay quiet for six years. Pretend to be her, and I’d walk away with more money than I could ever dream of. Enough to save my grandmother. Enough to never be powerless again.

I remember her mother’s words the night before the wedding:

“He doesn’t love Alodia. He’s still stuck on that orphan girl his family helped years ago. A student named Maeve. You won’t have a happy life in that house. But if you behave, if you survive the next six years, it’ll be over. Endure. For all our sakes.”

So I did. Like a good girl.

But I knew who Benedict Karsov was.

The media called him a philanthropist. A businessman. A leader in global development. But in the shadows, they called him the Butcher of Saint-Lorenz. The man who wiped out Six entire families in a single winter. A man who signed contracts in blood and owned every judge who ever dared to say his name.

And Maeve? She was the ghost that haunted him.

An orphan his family sponsored. The girl he loved. The one he tried to keep, but who chose freedom instead. She ran to London. Left him behind. Left scars deeper than anyone knew.

So the Karsovs gave him Alodia.

And when Alodia ran, they gave him me.

The marriage was nothing like I expected.

The mansion? Beautiful. Cold. Too quiet.

His study? Lined with photos of her. Maeve laughing. Maeve on a boat. Maeve in winter.

He said he traveled to London for business. I knew better.

I slept in the guest room. The one at the end of the hall where the window whistled all night and the heater barely worked. I’ve never seen the master bedroom. Not once. Not even on our wedding night.

He didn’t look at me unless he had to. But I stayed. Because I had no choice. I turned myself off. Piece by piece. He liked silence, so I stopped speaking. He came home late, so I waited with the lights on. He had ulcers, so I taught myself to cook porridge with ginger and no onions.

I bent myself backwards to survive him.

I wore the name like armor. I memorized Alodia’s life until I couldn’t remember my own.

And then... something changed.

Small things. A rumor. A whisper. That Mr. Karsov had fallen for his wife. ME.

He stopped flying to London.

Maeve’s photo vanished from his desk.

He remembered my birthday.

He came home early when I was sick.

He even smiled once at dinner. At me.

For a moment, I believed the illusion. That maybe, somehow, I had become enough. That maybe I wasn’t just Alodia’s shadow.

But then Maeve came back. And just like that, I was invisible again.

He disappeared for nights.

The study was flooded with her photos.

I passed the hallway and heard her name fall from his lips like a prayer.

People started laughing at me. Whispering when I passed. A fake wife. A ghost in someone else’s life. A girl stupid enough to fall for a man who never saw her.

But I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry.

One more month. That’s all that’s left. One more month of pretending to be a woman I’ve never even met. One more month of playing wife to a man who would burn the world for another woman’s smile.

I was just starting to smile when my phone lit up.

Benedict.

I inhaled slowly and answered. “Yes?”

“Hexagon Club. Bring the stuff Maeve needs.”

His voice was ice. Brutal. Dismissive. “NOW.”

Then the call ended… but I understood right away.

Maeve’s period. Of course he remembered it. He never remembered mine. But hers? He probably marked it on his calendar.

I went straight to his private library. The third drawer on the right. That’s where he kept her emergency stash. Imported painkillers. Organic pads. Herbal tinctures. He once yelled at a maid for misplacing them.

I didn’t hesitate.

I grabbed everything she might need, slipped on my coat, and headed straight to the garage. His bigbike was still there… black, brutal, purring like a beast even before I turned the key. It was the fastest way to the Hexagon Club. If I left now, I could make it in twenty-five minutes.

The rain started halfway there.

Hard. Violent. Sheets of it like falling glass. The roads turned slick, almost silver, and visibility dropped to almost nothing.

Then it happened... headlights swerved out of nowhere.

A drunk driver, speeding like the devil himself, missed me by inches. My heart leapt to my throat as the bike skidded across the asphalt. I fought the handlebar with all the strength I had, nearly flew off, but managed to steady it just in time.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t even slow down.

By the time I pulled up to the private suite at the club, my legs were shaking. I was soaked, bruised, half-frozen, and two minutes late.

I raised my fist to knock… then froze.

Laughter, soft and intimate, spilled from the other side of the door.

Her laughter.

“Boss, seriously? You made your wife bring this all the way here in this weather? From the house to here’s what—one hour at least?”

“Maeve’s in pain.” Benedict’s voice was calm, indifferent. “She’ll come.”

Someone laughed louder. “Man, everyone knows your wife’s crazy about you. Six years and she’s never complained. Even when you were out every night with someone else.”

Another voice chimed in, jokingly, “But honestly, Boss—she’s beautiful. You really never felt anything for her?”

Silence.

For a moment, no one said anything.

I stood frozen outside the door, soaked and shaking, heart drumming too loudly in my ears.

And then I heard him.

“Whether it’s her or Maeve…I’ll always choose Maeve.”

I waited outside the door until the laughter died down, then knocked.

The moment I stepped into the private room, all their eyes landed on me… some surprised, some smug, most just curious. I looked like a drowned rat, but I still walked in, steady and calm.

“Oh damn, right on the dot!”

“Alodia, you’re soaked.” Benedict stood from the couch, frowning. “Why the hell do you look like that?”

I held out the little package in my hands, still dry despite everything else. “I didn’t want to make you wait, so I used your big bike."

I didn’t tell him I almost met with an accident. He won't believe me anyway.

Something in his expression shifted. He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “Put that on.”

Then, nodding toward the bag in my hand, he added, “Take it to the women’s restroom. Maeve’s waiting.”

I nodded, of course. Quiet. Obedient. Like always.

When I knocked on the bathroom door, I heard her voice… sickly sweet and trembling.

“Who is it?”

“Sanitary napkins.”

Silence. Then the door cracked open. I handed the bag through the gap. She didn’t even look at me.

I went home, peeled off my soaked clothes, and took a hot shower. I was about to fall asleep when the bedroom door burst open.

SLAM.

Benedict stormed in like a thunderstorm in a suit, rage boiling in his eyes. He didn’t say a word but just grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of bed.

“GET UP!”

“W-What—what’s going on?” I stammered as he dragged me down the hallway. “Benedict, where are we—”

Before I could finish, he shoved me, hard.

I hit the stairs backwards. My head slammed against the step as I tumbled down. Pain exploded in my skull then I tasted blood.

When I finally stopped at the bottom, everything blurred. My ears rang. My head throbbed.

I blinked through the haze, trying to push myself up. “Why… why are you doing this to me?”

His figure loomed at the top of the stairs, “Did you push Maeve?”

My mind went blank. “W-what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me!” He started walking down, slow and deliberate. “You’ve been playing the good wife for years just to earn my trust… You really think you’re that clever?”

“Benedict, I didn’t—”

“Didn't what? You thought that I finally loved you?” He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. “You were never more than a stand-in. Just a pawn in a deal between families. I don’t care what lies you’ve been telling yourself.” His voice dropped lower. “I will never love you. Not now. Not ever.”

I stared at him, blood dripping from my forehead, and for a second… I almost laughed. He didn’t understand. I never wanted his love. I never asked for it. Before I could speak, he yanked me up by the arm.

“Get in the car.”

“Benedict, wait—”

“Maeve fell from the fucking fifth floor because of you. And you’re whining about a bump on your damn head? You’re going to the hospital. You’re going to apologize. And you’re gonna beg for her forgiveness.”

My legs barely worked because of pain but he didn’t care. He just shoved me into the passenger seat.

The whole ride, I stared out the window, silently screaming from the pain. It felt like my whole body was going to collapse from the fall.

We arrived at the hospital. He didn’t wait for me, he just stormed into the room like he owned it.

Maeve was propped up in the hospital bed, looking pale, fragile, bandaged wrists on display like a trophy. As soon as she saw me, her eyes widened with manufactured fear.

Bitch!

“Benny…” she whispered, shaking. “I—I don’t want her here. Please… I'm scared of her.”

Benedict went straight to her, sat on the edge of the bed, and took her hand like she was something sacred. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here now. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

Then he turned to me. His eyes turned to ice.

“Well?” he said, voice hard. “What the hell are you standing there for? APOLOGIZE.”

I looked at Maeve. At her scared little expression. At the bandages…. At Benedict holding her like a wounded dove.

And I asked her quietly, “Did I really push you?”

Maeve’s eyelashes fluttered, and just like that, she started crying. “Miss Linwood,” she choked out between soft sobs, “if you don’t want to apologize, it’s okay. I never wanted to cause problems for you.” Her voice was fragile, trembling. “I know Benedict’s been staying with me lately,” she continued, wiping tears from her cheeks. “And it’s only natural if you feel upset. But… you and him, you’re just a business arrangement. There’s no love. If it weren’t for my background, he never would’ve had to marry someone else.”

The more she talked, the more pathetic she sounded. The more she cried, the darker Benedict’s face grew.

Then his voice snapped like a gunshot. “Alodia. I told you to apologize. Not to start drama!” His eyes cut through me. “Are you gonna do it or not?”

I looked at Maeve. Her perfect little act, all wide-eyed and broken like a porcelain doll.

I knew she was lying.

I knew she fell on her own…

And I also knew this: if I didn’t play along, if I caused even a small crack in the cooperation between the Linwoods and the Karsovs, I wouldn’t get my freedom. I wouldn’t get the hundred million that Mrs. Linwood promised me. I’d be stuck. In this marriage. In this life. Forever.

So I swallowed everything. “I’m sorry,” I said flatly, “It was my fault.” Then I turned to leave.

“Stop.” Benedict’s tone was ice. “You fucking pushed her, now you took responsibility. You’ll stay and look after her. Until she’s discharged.”

I didn’t argue. My fingers twitched slightly at my side. But I nodded.

“Okay.”

**

AFTER THAT, I STAYED in the hospital.

Every day, I took care of Maeve, helped her change clothes, brought her meals, fluffed her pillows like some helper robot. I brushed her hair and adjusted her blankets.

Benedict stayed too. Of course he did.

He didn’t check on the cartel shipments. Didn’t answer his phone when his men called. The entire Karsov operation could’ve burned to the ground and he wouldn’t have noticed because Maeve had a bruised rib and a sprained wrist.

He fed her porridge. Wiped her lips with a napkin. Sat beside her while she fell asleep.

He’d never done any of that for me.

Then one morning, Benedict’s phone rang. I heard only fragments—“European investors… issue with the Dubai end… thirty minutes max.” He looked at Maeve apologetically, kissed her forehead, and left.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the air shifted.

Maeve glanced at the clock, gave it ten full seconds… then turned to me with a slow, lazy smile.

“Peel the orange, slave. And don’t bruise it this time!"

I peeled the orange. Then she picked up the glass of orange juice and flung it straight to my face.It hit with a loud splash.

“Oops!” she said sweetly. “My hand slipped.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Go clean it up, Cinderella. Before he comes back and sees what a mess you are.”

Then, as if on cue, the door opened again.

Benedict stepped inside, expression unreadable. His eyes swept over Maeve. Then over me.

He saw the spilled juice. The soaked shirt. The broken glass.

“Maeve?” he asked, frowning. “What happened?”

Maeve’s eyes instantly shimmered with moisture. “I’m so sorry, Benny. My hand slipped. I didn’t mean to—” her voice cracked.

Benedict sighed. “Don’t apologize for her, Maeve. She’s your maid here. It’s her job to clean up after you.”

Silence rang louder than thunder. My heart should’ve broken then. But it didn’t. Because it was already ash.