SUBSTITUTE.

**CHAPTER 002**

Inside the room was Cassian Weldon, the man who I thought was my husband, and a woman sat on his lap kissing him in places even I had never dared to.

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but stand there and stare. I felt all the air leave my lungs as I exhaled, tears welling up in my eyes.

The woman had her back to me, her long dark hair falling down her shoulders. She was wearing a silk robe—my robe, I realized with a jolt—and her hands were tangled in Cassian's hair as she kissed him like she owned him.

Like I didn't exist.

My heart hammered so hard in my chest I thought it might break through my ribs. The pregnancy report in my pocket suddenly felt like it weighed nothing.

Then she pulled back slightly, catching her breath, and turned her head.

Isolde?

My eyes widened in surprise, in shock, in disbelief.

No. This couldn't be—

My twin sister stared at me with those same hazel eyes we shared, except hers were filled with triumph and satisfaction while mine filled with tears.

*WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?*

The words screamed in my head but nothing came out of my mouth. My throat was too tight. I just stood there like an idiot, one hand still on the door handle, the other pressed against my pocket where the pregnancy report sat—the report that was supposed to change everything.

Isolde got up from Cassian's lap slowly, deliberately, adjusting the robe as she stood. A smirk pulled at her perfect lips—that same smirk I'd seen a thousand times before whenever she won something, took something, destroyed something of mine.

"Well, well," she purred, her voice sweet like poisoned honey. "Look who finally came home."

Cassian didn't move from where he sat on our bed—OUR bed. He just stared at me with those cold blue eyes that showed nothing but pure disdain. Not even surprise at being caught. Not even a flicker of guilt.

He'd known I'd find out eventually. He just didn't care.

My legs felt weak, like they might give out at any second, but I forced myself to stay standing. Tears were already rolling down my cheeks and I hated it, hated that I was crying, hated that they could see how much pain I was in.

"Cassian..." I whispered, my voice breaking on his name. But I didn't know what else to say. What could I say?

What words existed for this moment?

He stood up then, running a hand through his messy hair as he walked toward me. He wore only his black pants, his chest bare and muscled, and I could see scratches on his shoulders—fresh ones, red and angry.

From her.

From Isolde.

My stomach turned.

"Cassian, didn't you tell her already?" Isolde asked from behind him, sitting down on the edge of the bed like she belonged there. She crossed her legs elegantly, letting the robe fall open slightly. "I thought you were going to tell her today."

Tell me what? Tell me WHAT exactly? I asked myself, panic rising in my chest like bile.

I looked at Cassian as he stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell her perfume on him. "What... wha... what the hell is all of this Cassian... what is this... How long has this been going on?"

"Does it matter?" he asked flatly, his tone suggesting he'd rather be anywhere else than having this conversation.

"Yes!" The word came out louder than I expected, echoing in the large bedroom. "Yes it matters! You're my husband, Cassian. We're married!"

He shrugged, shoulders shaking like everything that was going on was a joke to him. "Married... Right, you know I forgot about that."

The casual cruelty of it hit me like a slap.

He paused, placing a hand on his forehead as if this whole situation was giving him a headache. "Well, how do I say this..."

"Just tell her," Isolde called out from the bed. "Rip the bandaid off."

Then Cassian started explaining, and with each word I felt myself dying inside.

"You want to know the truth, Rosa? Fine. I... don't love you. I never loved you, Rosa. You disGUST me. You're ill-mannered and not of class."

I flinched like he'd physically struck me as the words left his mouth. Ill-mannered? Unclassy?

I'd tried so hard. I'd learned which fork to use at dinner, how to walk in heels, how to smile at his parents and friend. I'd studied etiquette books late into the night, just to fit in.

And none of it mattered.

"When my family came to your house nine months ago, we came for Isolde," he continued, his voice matter-of-fact. "We wanted her. But she had auditions, her career was taking off, she couldn't commit at the time. So your stepfather offered you instead. A replacement. A substitute."

"No... You're lying," I shook my head desperately, backing up slightly until I was almost out of the door. "No, my stepfather said—"

"Your stepfather lied to you!," Cassian cut me off, his voice sharp. "You were just a tool. A means to an end. My father's will states I must be married with an heir before I can inherit. If I don't, everything goes to my uncle's family. So I needed a wife. Any wife. And you were available."

The room spun around me. I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself, my other hand pressing against my head as it pulsed with pain.

"You knew?" I whispered, looking past Cassian to Isolde. "You knew this whole time?"

Isolde smiled sweetly. "Of course I knew. Who do you think suggested you as my replacement?"

The betrayal cut deeper than any knife could.

"But Isolde's back now," Cassian continued, turning slightly to glance at her with something in his eyes I'd never seen when he looked at me. Warmth. Desire. "Her schedule cleared up. She's ready. Which means you're no longer needed."

"Our marriage—" I started, my voice trembling.

"Was a one-year agreement. A contract," Cassian finished for me. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "It's been nine months, Rosa. Close enough. I don't want to see you in my house anymore."

I couldn't breathe. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing all the air from my lungs. Couldn't think past the roaring in my ears. The tears kept coming and I couldn't stop them.

Then I remembered. All those nights in the darkness. All those times he touched me.

"So who the hell is Elie?" I asked, my voice breaking on the name that had haunted me for months.

Cassian turned and looked at Isolde. She smiled, standing up and walking over to drape herself against his side.

And everything clicked into place like pieces of a horrible puzzle.

"Eliana," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a freight train. "Your stage name is Eliana."

Isolde laughed, the sound light and musical. "Elie for short. Cute, isn't it? Cassian's been calling me that since we met each other."

I felt sick. Nauseous. My stomach churned violently and I thought I might actually throw up right there on their expensive hardwood floors.

Every time he'd been inside me, every time he'd moaned that name in the dark, every time I'd laid there listening to him call out for someone else—it had been her. My sister.

He'd been imagining Isolde beneath him instead of me.

I was just a body. A warm placeholder until the real thing came back.

"You're disgusting," I said to both of them, my voice stronger despite the tears. "Both of you."

Cassian walked past me without a word, his back now facing me as he moved to the dresser. He pulled open a drawer and took out a stack of papers and a pen—already prepared, I realized numbly. They'd been planning this moment.

He came back and shoved the papers at me, the edges hitting my chest.

"Divorce papers. Sign them."

I looked down at the documents in my shaking hands, my vision blurry with tears.

"You'd rather do yourself good than stay in a marriage you'll never be loved in," he said coldly, like he was doing me a favor.

I stared at the words on the page through my tears. Dissolution of marriage. Irreconcilable differences. My name—Rosa Nelson—typed next to his—Cassian Weldon.

A tear fell from my eye and landed on the paper, the ink bleeding and spreading across the white page like blood.

I thought about everything he'd said. *I don't love you. You disgust me. You were just a tool. A replacement. A substitute.* The words echoed in my head over and over like a cruel mantra. *Isolde's back now. You're no longer needed.*

Nine months. Nine months of trying to be enough, trying to make him see me, trying to believe that maybe one day he'd love me back. And it was all a lie. Every single day of it.

Every morning I'd woken up hoping today would be different. Every night I'd fallen asleep crying because it wasn't.

I was never his wife. I was never anything to him.

Just a placeholder for Isolde.

I'd been so stupid, so naive, so desperate to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could make him see me. That I could make him love me.

Is this how it ends? I asked myself, as I sniffed in—*hngh*—trying to hold back more tears that wouldn't stop coming.

My hand trembled as I picked up the pen. It felt heavy, like it weighed a hundred pounds.

My hand moved before I could stop it, before I could think too hard about what I was doing. I signed my name at the bottom in shaky letters—Rosa—and handed the papers back to him.

Cassian took them without a word, barely glancing at my signature before turning away.

Then he walked to the corner of the room where my suitcase sat—already packed and waiting. When had they done this? This morning while I was at the hospital? Last night while I slept?

How long had they been planning this exact moment?

He rolled the suitcase over to me, the wheels clicking softly against the floor. "Get out."

But I couldn't move. My feet felt rooted to the spot. My hand went to my stomach automatically, pressing against the small curve that wasn't visible yet beneath my gown.

The baby. Our baby. The one I'd been so excited to tell him about just an hour ago.

Another tear fell, rolling down my cheek and dripping off my chin. I stared at Cassian, trying to see any sympathy in those cold blue eyes, any hint of the man I'd imagined he could be.

But all I saw was hatred. Impatience. Disgust.

"Ughh, she's still here," Isolde said, her voice dripping with annoyance as she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please make her leave, baby." She walked over to Cassian and cupped his cheeks with both hands, pulling him down for a deep kiss right in front of me—deliberately, cruelly.

Without hesitation, Cassian pulled out his phone and dialed a number. I didn't need to hear the conversation to know who it was or who they were rather... SECURITY.

"Wait, CASSIAN—" I started, finally finding my voice again. "Please, just—"

But he wasn't listening. He'd already turned away, dismissing me like I was nothing.

Within two minutes, two security guards appeared at the door. Big men in dark uniforms who I'd seen around the mansion but never really talked to. They looked uncomfortable, their eyes darting between me and Cassian.

"Escort her out," Cassian ordered, his voice cold and final. "Off the property. Now."

The guards exchanged a glance before moving toward me.

They grabbed my arms, not roughly but firmly—professional, just doing their job. I didn't fight. What was the point?

What would fighting change?

They led me out of the room, one on each side of me, down the hallway past all the expensive art hanging on the walls—paintings worth more than most people made in a year. Down the grand staircase with its crystal chandelier that probably cost as much as a house. Through the entrance hall where I'd walked in just thirty minutes ago full of hope and excitement about the baby.

Thirty minutes. That's all it took for my entire world to collapse.

My mind wouldn't stop spinning as the guards walked me to the door. How had I been so delusional? How had I convinced myself that things could work out? That Cassian could love me?

That I could be enough?

My stepfather had lied to me. Deceived me. Sold me like cattle to secure some business deal with the Weldons.

And Isolde had taken everything from me. Again.

Like she always did.

Like she'd been doing our entire lives.

The guards opened the heavy front door and a gust of cold air hit my face. It was drizzling outside—I could see the rain through the doorway.

They gently pushed me outside onto the front steps. One of them—the younger one with kind eyes—set my suitcase down beside me carefully.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said quietly, so his partner wouldn't hear.

Then they went back inside and the door slammed shut behind them with a heavy, final sound.

**SLAM.**

I stood there staring at the closed door, at the house that had been my prison for nine months. The house I'd tried so hard to turn into a home.

The rain was light at first, just a drizzle that misted my face. Then it got heavier, soaking through my gown within seconds, plastering my hair to my face and neck.

I didn't care.

I couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything except the gaping hole where my heart used to be.

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase—my entire life packed into one bag—and started walking. One foot in front of the other, away from the mansion, away from Cassian, away from the life I'd thought I had.

The wheels of my suitcase scraped against the wet pavement, a horrible sound that matched how I felt inside.

After about twenty minutes of walking in the rain, completely soaked and shivering, I saw headlights approaching through the darkness.

A cab.

I flagged it down desperately, waving my arm.

The driver pulled over, his window rolling down. He looked at my soaked appearance—my ruined gown, my dripping hair, my tear-stained face—and his expression softened with pity.

"Where to, miss?" he asked gently, concern clear in his voice.

I gave him the only address I knew apart from the Weldons Mansion. My stepfather's house.

I had nowhere else to go. No friends—Isolde had made sure of that. No other family. No money beyond the few bills in my purse.

Nowhere.