When Vera Sinclair’s longtime boyfriend dumps her for the heiress she unknowingly replaced, she’s devastated but not broken. For years, she played the role of the perfect girlfriend, filling in the gaps while he pined for another woman. But now? She’s done being second best. Just when she thinks she’s free, a powerful billionaire, Asher Donovan enters the picture with an intriguing proposition. He needs a fiancée to silence his family’s constant matchmaking, and Vera, with her newfound indifference to love, is the perfect candidate. But Asher isn’t just any billionaire, he’s her ex’s former business rival, the one man who can make her ex regret ever letting her go. As Vera steps into the world of high society on her own terms, she realizes that being a “substitute” was never her destiny. She was meant to be someone’s first choice. And this time, love might just come with the sweetest revenge.
View MoreThe moment Vera Sinclair walked into the lavish restaurant, she knew something was off.
The low hum of conversation, the clinking of crystal glasses, and the rich aroma of gourmet dishes did nothing to settle the unease crawling up her spine.
Across the table, her boyfriend of four years, Lucas Whitmore, wore an expression she had never seen before, distant, cold, and unreadable.
She set her purse on the chair beside her and smiled, ignoring the warning bells in her head. "You’re quiet tonight. Long day?"
Lucas exhaled sharply, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive suit. "Vera, we need to talk."
Her stomach twisted.
No conversation that began with those words ever ended well.
Still, she forced herself to remain calm. "Okay. What’s on your mind?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he picked up his wine glass, swirled the liquid, and watched it as if searching for words in the deep red color.
When he finally spoke, his voice carried a sharp edge. "I think we should break up."
For a moment, Vera thought she misheard him. Her breath hitched, and a slow numbness crept through her veins. "What?"
"It’s over, Vera."
She blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. "Lucas… is this a joke? Because if it is, it's not funny."
He sighed, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. You and I… we were never meant to last."
A painful lump formed in her throat. "Four years, Lucas. We've been together for four years. You don't just wake up one day and decide it’s over. What’s really going on?"
He leaned back, his gaze cool and detached. "I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t know how. The truth is… there’s someone else."
The world around her seemed to slow, the sounds of the restaurant fading into nothing. "Someone else?"
Lucas had the decency to look guilty. "Camilla Alden. We’ve been together for a while now."
Vera’s heart lurched, then plummeted into a freefall.
Camilla Alden.
The name sent a rush of memories through her mind, blonde, elegant, and the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the city. More importantly, the woman Lucas had always described as 'just a friend.'
The realization was a gut punch. "So what was I, then? A placeholder until she wanted you?"
He hesitated, and that pause told her everything she needed to know.
Her breath came out in a shaky exhale, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Oh my God. That’s exactly what I was, wasn’t I? A substitute for Camilla."
"Vera, it’s not like that..."
"Then what is it like?" she snapped, her voice sharp with pain. "Tell me, Lucas. Was I just convenient? Someone to pass the time with until she was ready to take you back?"
Lucas rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. "Look, I didn’t plan for this to happen. But Camilla… she’s the one I’ve always wanted. I thought I could move on, but I couldn’t."
Vera stared at him, the man she had loved, trusted, and built a life around. And in that moment, she realized something.
Lucas had never truly loved her. He had loved the idea of her, the stand in, the reliable one, the woman who was always there when his 'true love' wasn’t.
A dull ache spread through her chest, but she refused to let the tears fall. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced a small, bitter smile. "Thank you for finally being honest with me, Lucas. I wish you and Camilla all the happiness you deserve."
He looked momentarily taken aback, as if expecting her to beg or plead. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Without another word, she grabbed her purse, stood up, and walked away, leaving Lucas Whitmore and four years of wasted love behind.
The cold night air bit at Vera’s skin, but she barely felt it. Her mind raced, replaying the conversation with Lucas over and over.
The betrayal, the humiliation, the unbearable realization that she had been nothing more than a stand in.
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked aimlessly through the city streets.
The distant hum of traffic, the neon glow of storefronts, and the occasional laughter of passing strangers all felt like a world apart from her own reality.
She had spent four years loving a man who had only been waiting for someone else.
The weight of it pressed down on her chest, but she refused to let it crush her. No. She had shed enough tears for Lucas Whitmore.
As she turned a corner, the looming silhouette of a bar caught her eye. "Seraph’s Lounge."
The golden letters gleamed under the streetlight, almost inviting her inside.
Vera had never been the type to drink her problems away, but tonight, she wanted an escape.
The warmth of the bar was a stark contrast to the icy night. The rich scent of whiskey and leather filled the air, and a soft jazz melody played in the background.
She slid onto a barstool, signaling the bartender. "Something strong. Surprise me."
The bartender, a woman with sharp eyes and a knowing smirk, nodded.
Within moments, a deep amber liquid filled a crystal glass before Vera. "Rough night?" she asked, wiping the counter.
Vera let out a hollow laugh. "Something like that."
She took a sip, the burn spreading through her, grounding her. It was then that she felt the weight of someone’s gaze on her.
"Drinking alone? That’s a dangerous habit," a deep voice drawled beside her.
Vera turned, her eyes meeting an intense, familiar stare. Asher Donovan.
Tall, dangerously handsome, and one of the most powerful businessmen in the city.
He was the kind of man who made deals over hundred year old scotch and destroyed his enemies with a single calculated move. But what was he doing here?
"Mr. Donovan," she acknowledged, forcing composure into her voice. "Didn’t take you for the type to frequent places like this."
His lips quirked in amusement. "And I didn’t take you for the type to drink alone."
Vera smirked, tilting her glass. "Then I guess we’re both full of surprises."
He studied her for a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "You don’t deserve to look this down, Vera."
Her breath caught. He said her name like it meant something, like he saw right through the mask she was struggling to keep on.
"And what do I deserve?" she found herself asking.
Asher’s hand moved slowly, almost tentatively, across the space that separated them.It wasn’t much. Just a few steps.But it felt like miles.Vera saw it coming, the way his fingers curled slightly, his arm outstretched, reaching for her hand like someone desperate for warmth in the dead of winter.And she flinched.Not dramatically. Not as if she thought he would hurt her. But enough that the space between them suddenly felt like a chasm again.Asher froze mid motion. His eyes darkened, the pain behind them raw and immediate.“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking with a quiet urgency that cracked through the tension in the room. “I didn’t mean to... Vera, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just…”His arm fell to his side slowly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what he had carried for six long years.“I don’t expect forgiveness. Hell, I don’t even know if I deserve to be standing here right now. But please, just let me say it.”Vera didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her body was to
AsherThe knock came like a gunshot.Three firm raps. Sharp. Hesitant. Familiar.He froze where he stood by the floor to ceiling windows, the late afternoon sun casting a long, fractured shadow across the marble tiles.Eira was asleep on the couch, her tiny frame curled around the stuffed animal he’d bought her just hours ago, a toy he hadn’t even known how to pick until she’d pointed at it and said, “That one looks like you.”She was sunshine wrapped in skin. Innocent. Beautiful. His.And now her mother was behind that door.He didn’t need to check.He felt her.His pulse slammed against his ribs as old ghosts stirred, not just memories, but emotions buried so deep it hurt to even acknowledge them.He had rehearsed this moment in his head a thousand times over the years.In some fantasies, he had cursed her the second he saw her.In others, she’d cried and apologized, and he’d looked away coldly.But not once… not once, did he imagine he’d be standing here feeling like the boy she on
He thought back to the last time he saw her.To the cold anger in his eyes.To the silent pain.To that letter, short, sterile, and so unlike the woman he had once known.He remembered the way he had stared at it in a fit of rage.Told himself she had used him.Convinced himself she had played him like everyone else had.And he let that lie settle in his bones.He destroyed her.Blacklisted her from every elite brand.Put out word that she had betrayed him, publicly and privately, until even those who were neutral had no choice but to turn away from her.He had been cruel.Ruthless.And now?Now that same woman had raised his daughter in silence.Alone.Without asking him for a damn thing.And she had done a beautiful job.The realization made his stomach churn.He had spent six years punishing the wrong woman.The only woman who ever gave him something real.“Dad?”The tiny voice cracked the silence like a shard of glass.He turned sharply.Eira was blinking up at him, sleepy and con
Damien stepped further into the suite, then gave Asher a pointed look. “I’ll be in the room next door if you need anything.”“Thanks.” Asher nodded, watching as Eira began opening drawers and curiously inspecting a decorative globe.The suite door clicked shut behind Damien, leaving an odd silence between them.Asher cleared his throat. “Hungry?”“Not really,” she said, then turned to face him. “Can I draw something for you instead?”He led her to the couch, handed her the sketchpad and colored pencils that had just been delivered, and sat beside her.As she began drawing, he let himself study her.Her brows furrowed the same way Vera’s did when she concentrated.Her lashes fluttered in the same rhythm, and when she bit the end of the pencil, it was all Vera again.“You really love drawing?” he asked.She nodded. “Mom says when I’m sad, I should draw how I feel. It helps.”“And are you sad today?”“Not anymore,” she replied honestly. “You came back like you promised.”His throat tight
“I think you’re the nicest sad person I’ve ever met.” She paused. “Also, you promised me ice cream in my dream. So you’re here because I wished you.”Asher’s lips parted in stunned silence. Something sharp and beautiful ached in his chest.“Eira,” he said gently, “do you often have dreams like that?”“Sometimes,” she said, licking her spoon again. “But this one was special. You gave me the toy and said you’d come back, and then today, you did! That means dreams come true sometimes, right?”He reached across the table, gently brushing a bit of chocolate off her chin with a napkin. “Maybe they do.”She smiled wide. “Will you come to my school someday? The other kids keep saying I don’t have a dad, but if you came, they’d believe me.”His jaw tightened. “Do they… say that often?”Eira nodded, unfazed. “Yeah, but I don’t care much. I just tell them my mommy is better than all their daddies.”Asher laughed. A deep, real laugh. “That sounds like something Vera would say.”“Who’s Vera?” she
They found a quiet, upscale gelato shop tucked near the park.It was late enough in the day that there weren’t many people around.Asher ordered vanilla and strawberry for Eira, with extra sprinkles, chocolate chips, and yes, gummy worms, and just a simple espresso for himself.They sat by the window, the sunlight casting a golden glow across the little girl's face as she dug enthusiastically into her treat.Asher sipped his coffee slowly, watching her.He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.She wasn’t just any child. She was his child.And Vera… she had never told him.“Do you like ice cream too?” Eira asked, swinging her legs. “Or are you just too serious for fun?”Asher raised an eyebrow, amused. “Too serious, huh?”“Mommy says people who frown too much have tiny little hearts that forgot how to smile.”He almost choked on his espresso. “She said that?”Eira nodded seriously. “But I think you smiled in your dreams. So your heart just got sleepy.”Asher stared at her for a
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