Chapter Three

Chapter Three

He was gone by the time I woke up.

No note. No text. No explanation.

Just silence and space—his usual.

It was supposed to make it easier for me. Fewer questions, fewer chances to mess up. But it only reminded me how alien this life felt, even though I was now wearing it like my own skin.

I spent most of the morning studying her things. Her perfumes. Her journals. Her playlists. The way she curled her “r”s in writing, how she signed her name with a little flick at the end. Every detail was important. I had to become her, not just look like her.

The staff watched me like hawks. But I smiled, nodded, made polite small talk, and followed her routine to the letter.

I couldn’t afford mistakes. Not when the stakes were this high.

I’d already crossed the line.

Now, I had to make sure no one noticed.

At lunch, I ate in the sunroom.

At 2:00 p.m., I called her best friend, Vanessa, like she used to do every Friday.

At 4:00, I tried on dresses for the charity gala Adrian's mother was organizing next week. One of them was deep red, figure-hugging, and completely not Eliora’s style.

I chose it anyway.

Dinner was served at 7:30. I sat alone.

By 8:15, I heard the sound of tires on gravel.

He was home.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure how to greet him.

He walked in wearing a navy suit and a tired expression. He paused when he saw me in the dining room, hands resting lightly on the tablecloth, glass of wine untouched.

“You’re still awake,” he said.

“You’re early,” I replied.

“Cancelled flight.”

He didn’t move to sit. He just studied me. Eyes sharper than they looked at first glance.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He walked in slowly, unbuttoning his jacket.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said.

My stomach tightened.

“Different how?”

“Softer. Less... guarded.”

I smiled faintly. “Maybe I’m finally settling into this marriage.”

He raised a brow. “That’s what this is? Settling?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He took the seat across from me, then picked up the wine and poured himself a glass.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he said, voice low, “what it would’ve been like if we chose each other instead of being chosen.”

I felt that line hit something deep.

He wasn’t supposed to talk like this. Not to me,his wife. The one he married in a deal.

“Maybe we still can,” I said before I could stop myself.

He looked up sharply.

“What?”

“I mean… get to know each other. On our own terms.”

He stared at me for a long time, like trying to read between the lines of my face.

Then he leaned back and said, “Alright. Let’s start now. Tell me something real.”

I froze.

Something real?

The truth curled like fire behind my ribs, but I buried it.

“I was afraid of dogs when I was ten,” I said. “Bitten once, never forgot it.”

He smirked. “I would’ve guessed cats.”

“What about you?”

“My brother once dared me to jump off the roof into the pool when I was eight.”

“Did you?”

“Broke my arm.”

I laughed. Genuine and sharp.

For a moment, it felt… easy.

It felt like something normal people do.

Then he said, “You should wear red more often.”

I blinked. “What?”

“The dress,” he said, lifting his glass. “It suits you.”

Heat spread up my neck.

He stood a moment later.

“I have a call. You should rest.”

And just like that, he was gone.

But something had changed.

He saw me tonight,not just the woman he married. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to stop looking.

The next morning, I had a visitor.

The guard said she didn’t give her name. Just insisted I’d know her.

Of course, I did.

Eliora stood in a long coat and sunglasses, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She looked nothing like the version of her I had become.

We met in the east garden, where no one ever came.

“You look comfortable,” she said, arms crossed.

“I’m surviving,” I answered.

“You were never supposed to thrive in this.”

“I didn’t plan for any of this.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she handed me an envelope.

“What’s this?”

“A test result,” she said, voice trembling. “From my last doctor’s visit. In case you ever need it.”

I opened it slowly.

Infertile.

Permanent scarring from repeated abortions. Unlikely to ever conceive.

I felt sick.

“How many?”

“Three,” she whispered. “Before I was even twenty.”

“Eliora…!”

“You’re the only one who knows. The only one who ever knew.”

I clutched the envelope, heart pounding.

“You were never planning to tell him?”

“I tried,” she said, her eyes glistening. “But he doesn’t love me. He never did. I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

“And now?”

“Now he looks at you like he’s falling.”

I looked away.

“You think he suspects?”

“Not yet. But he’s not stupid.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“I want you to remember the deal. We switch until he gets an heir. Then I come back.”

“You think I’ll just walk away?”

Her expression changed. Sharpened.

“That was the agreement.”

“I didn’t agree to lie forever.”

“You’re not me, Eliana. No matter how hard you pretend. You can never be me.”

I stood up slowly.

“I don’t need to be you. I just have to survive long enough to give Dad what he wanted.”

“And what do you want?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know anymore.

She left after that. Without another word.

That night, Adrian didn’t come home.

The following morning, a package arrived.

Small. Plain. No sender’s name.

Inside was a baby onesie.

White. With little gold letters across the chest: “Daddy’s Future CEO.”

I dropped it like it burned.

Then I saw the note.

One line, handwritten.

“Give him what he wants.”

No name. No signature.

Just that.

Panic roared in my chest.

Someone knew.

Not just about the switch.

About the goal.

A child.

An heir.

Adrian walked in hours later, unsuspecting, warm.

He kissed my cheek.

Asked if I’d eaten.

Told me he canceled another trip.

Then he said something that made my breath catch.

“I want us to start trying again,” he murmured. “For real this time.”

I nodded, heart breaking.

Because someone was already watching.

And if I wasn’t careful…

The truth would come out before I had a chance to protect it.

 I thought the danger was pretending to be someone else—but the real danger is how much of myself I’m starting to lose in the process. And now, someone else is pulling the strings.