Chapter 1

For five years, I was Chloe Sterling’s secret lover.

To the world, I was merely her most reliable right-hand man at the company. In private, I was the one who held her close in bed every single night.

She promised she’d go public with our relationship when the timing was right. She swore I was the only man she would ever marry.

Until the day I saw her in a wedding gown, running toward another man—a man who looked almost identical to me.

Standing before the cameras hand-in-hand, she brushed me off with chilling ease:

"Julian is just a placeholder. But he’s useful at work, so there's no rush to throw him away."

I didn't yell. I didn't shed a tear.

I simply picked up my phone and dialed my father:

"Dad, I’m ready to take over the family empire. I agree to the arranged marriage."

The union between the Vance and Montgomery dynasties shook the entire business world.

And the moment Chloe saw the groom's face on the wedding invitation, her world collapsed.

I hung up the video call with my parents. The arranged marriage was officially settled.

Both families were thrilled with the match, and on paper, it was as perfect as a union could get.

I let out a long breath, booked the earliest flight back to my hometown, and started packing. Halfway through, someone knocked on the door.

Chloe had keys, but she never used them. She loved knocking and waiting for me to open it, so she could instantly throw herself into my arms.

In the past, every time she lunged at me, I would catch her firmly, spin her around in the air, and gently set her back down.

I cherished her, spoiled her, and loved her with everything I had.

Today, that knocking sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

I shut my suitcase, irritated. Why bother picking a fight today?

In less than twenty-four hours, I would be gone for good.

With that thought, I pulled the door open.

Chloe’s familiar embrace never came. Instead, standing right beside her was a man.

"What took you so long? Chloe’s drunk and sick to her stomach—can't you read the room?"

The man barked orders like the master of the house, treating me like an unpaid butler.

Or worse, a piece of dirt beneath his shoe.

"We were celebrating my welcome-back party tonight. Chloe got too excited and had one too many," he added smugly, giving an explanation no one asked for.

Last time, I had only caught a glimpse of him from across the ballroom. Looking at him up close now, my blood ran cold.

His brow, his eyes, his thin lips—he looked like he had been cast from the exact same mold as me. Even the slight arch of his smirk was an eerie mirror image.

So it was true. I really was just a pathetic substitute.

"Dominic... Dominic, don't leave... don't go... I’m thirsty," a drunk Chloe mumbled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Dominic poured a glass of water and walked past me, leaving a trail of heavy lavender cologne in the air.

Chloe had always claimed she had a sensitive nose. She told me she hated men wearing fancy colognes. She swore she only liked a man to smell clean, like basic, unscented laundry soap.

To cater to her tastes, I threw away all my designer colognes. I hand-washed every shirt to keep that raw, simple scent she claimed to love.

To find the exact scent she demanded, she made me test dozens of detergents until my skin broke out in allergic hives. Even then, she never told me to stop.

Seeing Dominic tonight, the truth hit me like a slap to the face.

Chloe never loved clean laundry soap.

She loved Dominic's scent.

And I, like an obedient dog, had been trained step by step into his living shadow.

After nursing Chloe through the glass of water, Dominic toyed with the cup and turned to me.

"You must be Julian. Chloe mentions you all the time. You’re quite the efficient little assistant, aren't you? Great at closing deals."

"And it seems you’ve taken decent care of her, too. I really should thank you. Without you, Chloe would’ve been so lonely while I was away."

Every word was calculated to strip me of my dignity.

In Dominic's eyes, I was merely a toy Chloe played with to pass the time until the real owner returned.

There was never any love. Not a single drop.

Fearing I hadn't grasped the insult, Dominic took another step closer, lowering his voice:

"You know, Julian, your taste is remarkably similar to mine. The minimalist decor here, the way you dress—it’s practically an exact copy of me."

"Even your build... and especially this face. Anyone who didn't know better would think Chloe bought herself a counterfeit version of me!"

I stood silent for a second. Even though my heart was dead and I was already leaving, I wasn't going to let him walk all over me in my own living room.

"Is that so? This apartment belongs to me and Chloe. Are you her chauffeur? Thanks for dropping her off. Your job is done, so get out. I’ll make sure your tip clears tomorrow."

I thought I had scored a hit, but the drunken Chloe suddenly stumbled to her feet and wrapped her arms around Dominic.

"Julian Vance! What the hell... what are you doing? Can't you be sensible for once? Dominic and I are just keeping up appearances! What are you getting jealous for?!"

"Don't you dare try to kick him out!"

She slurred her words, barely able to speak coherently, yet her instinct to protect Dominic was as sharp as a blade.

What else was there to say? The clown makeup was already cemented onto my face.

Dominic flashed a triumphant smirk. He strolled toward me, voice dripping with condescension.

"See that? I can't leave. Chloe needs me. I’ll be taking the master bedroom tonight. Sorry you have to slum it in the guest room, but hey, someone has to take care of her."

"Oh, by the way... I heard Chloe never lets you into the private study in the master suite. Want to take a wild guess whose pictures are inside?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dominic guided Chloe into the bedroom.

I knew that study. I had tried every combination—her birthday, our anniversary, every significant date. Nothing worked. Once, when she caught me trying the lock, she screamed profanities at me for the first time and gave me the silent treatment for an entire week.

Now, the mystery was solved.

Not that it mattered anymore.

I was leaving.