Chapter Two: Pretending to Be Her

It started with three knocks on my door. Soft. Hesitant. But I knew it was her.

I opened it without a word.

Eliora stepped in like she hadn’t just married into one of the richest families in the country. Like she wasn’t supposed to be waking up beside her new husband in a mansion full of staff.

She didn’t sit. She didn’t smile.

“I need your help,” she said.

I closed the door behind her. My fingers twitched.

“Help with what?”

She turned to face me, and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the chipped polish on her nails, the nervous way she twisted her wedding ring.

“I can’t have a child,” she whispered.

The words sucked the air out of the room.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve tried,” she said. “We’ve been… doing it. Or pretending to. But it doesn’t matter. It won’t work. My body’s broken.”

“Eli….!”

“Because of the abortions.”

Silence.

The room was still. My breath caught.

She never talked about that. Not out loud. Not even to me.

“I thought maybe it wouldn’t matter,” she said, voice cracking. “That I could fake it, that I’d have time, that no one would notice. But they’re already watching. Waiting.”

I sat down on the bed, heart thudding. “What are you saying?”

“I need you to take my place.”

I laughed. It was short and sharp and ugly.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“I’m not doing that. That’s insane.”

“You’re the only one who can pull it off.”

“Exactly. And that’s the problem.”

She knelt in front of me. Grabbed my hands.

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if there was another way. But Adrian… he’s starting to expect something. And Godwin is obsessed with lineage. He wants an heir. Soon. If I fail, they’ll ruin us. Dad. Vaughn Corp. Everything.”

“I’m not a surrogate, Eli.”

“You wouldn’t just carry the baby,” she said. “You’d live the role. Temporarily. Until I figure something out.”

“Temporarily,” I echoed. “You think that’s how it works?”

“You’ve always been better at pretending than me.”

I wanted to scream. Instead, I stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the sun was too bright. The street too quiet.

“This isn’t high school theater,” I said. “This is real. Marriage. Sex. A family.”

“You said it yourself,he doesn’t love me. He barely talks to me. It’s not like he’d notice.”

“And if he does?”

“Then I handle it. But right now, you’re the only one who can save us.”

Save us.

Like this was a sacrifice. Like I was a soldier.

I turned back to her.

“I don’t even know what he’s like.”

She stood, brushing her knees. “He’s cold. Private. Always traveling. He won’t be around much.”

“You want me to sleep with him.”

“I want you to give me time.”

“No. You want me to give him a child.”

Silence again.

Then: “Yes.”

We stared at each other.

Identical eyes. Identical faces.

Two lives,one real, one borrowed.

She stepped closer. Lowered her voice.

“I already laid the groundwork. The staff knows I’m going to my aunt’s place for a week. All I need is time. A few days. You move in, take my place, act like me. If he’s gone, it’ll be easy.”

“And when he’s not?”

“You’ve seen me act all your life. You know what to do.”

She didn’t wait for a yes.

She hugged me.

The rare kind. Tight. Needy. Unspoken desperation.

That night, I packed a bag and disappeared.

At the Donavan estate, no one questioned it. The driver picked me up without a word. The butler bowed. The cook smiled. The housekeeper said, “Welcome home, Mrs. Donavan.”

I nodded and walked in like I belonged.

Eliora had left me notes. What she liked for breakfast. The perfume she wore. How she spoke. What she avoided. Her favorite chair in the drawing room.

I followed the script.

Perfect posture. Limited words. Crossed ankles. Sharp glares.

It was terrifying how easy it felt.

He came back on the third day.

Adrian Donavan.

He didn’t knock. Just pushed open the door to the bedroom and stepped inside.

Tall. Calm. Disconnected.

“You’re here,” he said, eyes scanning me.

I swallowed. “Of course.”

He blinked once. “Wasn’t sure. You said you were leaving.”

I fought panic. “Changed my mind.”

He nodded.

Unbothered. Distant.

He took off his watch and placed it on the nightstand.

“You’re quiet,” I said.

“You usually prefer it that way.”

A test?

I smiled faintly. “I do.”

He walked past me to the closet. Rolled up his sleeves.

I watched his back.

Broad. Tensed.

“You’re home early,” I said.

“Business shifted. I figured I’d try being a husband for once.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

He turned around. His eyes locked on mine.

“You look different,” he said.

My stomach flipped.

“How so?”

He paused. “I don’t know. Softer, maybe. Lighter.”

I forced a shrug. “Must be the lighting.”

He stared for another second. Then walked past me again.

In the mirror, I saw his face. Curious. But not suspicious.

Not yet.

At dinner, we sat across from each other in silence. The steak was perfect. The wine expensive. The room too big for two people pretending.

He finally spoke.

“You never drink red.”

I hesitated, then pushed the glass away. “Right.”

“You also hate roses.”

I looked at the centerpiece. A dozen red roses in crystal.

“Noted.”

He tilted his head. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

I didn’t blink. “You mean besides marrying a stranger?”

That caught him off guard.

His mouth twitched.

Then he looked away.

Later that night, I lay in the bed Eliora hadn’t touched in days.

He came in after midnight.

Said nothing.

Slid under the covers beside me.

His warmth was close.

My heart pounded so hard I thought he could hear it.

“You’re not going to ask?” I whispered.

“Ask what?”

“Why I’m different.”

“I assumed it was progress.”

He turned to me, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t need perfect,” he said. “I just need peace.”

He kissed me.

Not deeply. Not hungrily.

Just… there.

My first instinct was to pull away.

But I didn’t.

I kissed him back.

For Eliora.

For Dad.

For the company.

For the lie that was now mine to carry.

His hand slid to my waist. My breath caught.

Then—his phone rang.

He sighed and pulled away, checking the screen.

“Work,” he muttered. “Always work.”

He got up, left the room, took the call.

I curled into the pillow, shaking.

Thiswas a game we weren’t going to be able to play forever.

And I had no idea what would happen if he ever discovered I wasn’t the woman he married.

He noticed I was different. But he still kissed me. And I kissed him back. And now I’m not sure I’m just pretending anymore.

--