Five Years As His Dead Lover's Ghost

Everyone in high society laughed behind my back, calling me Sebastian Pierce’s most pathetic, desperate substitute.

I had played his devoted doormat for five whole years before he finally agreed to marry me.

Yet on the eve of our wedding, outside our bridal suite, I heard him panting with his newest little stand-in.

I pushed the door open. Harper’s cheeks were flushed pink. Sebastian was calmly fastening his cufflinks, barely glancing up at me.

"Relax. The wedding is still on. You’ll still be Mrs. Pierce."