The Substitute Heiress のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

EvieThe smell of gardenias was so strong I could taste it in the back of my throat. They were everywhere, choking the rooftop terrace. My favourite, Nathaniel had said.He had picked out this dress too. White silk, Zac Posen design. He laid it on the bed himself, a gesture he pulled off most times I have to dress up.“Wear this tonight. You know you love Zac Pose.” I don’t. And if I did, I didn’t remember. But I trusted him. I always trusted him with everything, because three years ago, I woke up with no memory of who I was. It was a miracle I survived and I owe him for that.I still remember the blur of hospital lights and then his face, calm and reassuring, like he was the only one who ever cared for me in my lifetime. He met me with a smile, telling me he had taken care of everything, he had saved me from a gastric accident that claimed the life of my driver.He took me to his mansion. He fed me, clothed me, and taught me what good wine tasted like. It was the perfect life any wo

EvieHe stepped out of the SUV, opened the back door, and looked at me like he had already made the decision.“Get in.”“No,” I choked out, stumbling back. “Who are you? Get away from me!”He moved fast. A hand on my arm, not rough but impossible to break. He guided me into the back seat like I was luggage. The door slammed, then the locks thudded down.“Please,” I whispered, pressing myself against the door. “I don’t have any money.”He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “I’ve been looking for you for three years, Miss Vanderbilt.”The name didn’t ring a bell or fit.“My name is Evie.”He reached the passenger seat, picked up a tablet, and handed it back to me without looking.On the screen was a grainy photo, taken outside Mount Sinai Hospital. I, in my dress, hair a mess, face pale with shock stared at the hospital doors. I was a blur in the background of a news shot about a charity wing. This was from the day I traced Damien

The room was quiet.I stood near the tall windows, barefoot on a thick rug that felt familiar in a way I could not explain. Pale curtains shifted with the ocean air. Somewhere below, waves met rock in a steady rhythm. The sound reached the room softened by distance and glass.This was meant to be my room.It did not feel like I was intruding. The bed was made the way someone makes it when they expect to return. A navy throw rested at the foot, folded once. Books sat on the nightstand with creased spines and bent corners. A faint scent hung in the air, clean and warm, the kind you notice only when you stop moving.I felt calm like I was standing beside my own life and looking in.On the low table by the window, several photo albums were stacked neatly. Leather covers, worn at the edges. The kind people keep because throwing them away would feel wrong.I sat on the bed and pulled the top album closer.My name was written inside.Alessandra.The first page held a photograph of a littl

When the call ended, I was still on the bed.The phone rested against my ear for a moment longer than necessary, as if I expected Rowan’s voice to return on its own, to soften what he had just said, or to take it back entirely. When nothing happened, I lowered my hand and stared at the screen until it went dark.“You loved him very much.” It echoed in my head again.The words did not sting. That was the strange part. They did not echo with grief or longing or the faint ache of what was lost, they settled in my chest quietly, like a statement that expected a response I could not provide.Surprise came first, followed by something close to anticipation. My body leaned forward into the idea before my mind could catch up. Anxiety followed soon after, wrapped carefully in what felt almost like hope.If I loved him, I would feel something.I would wait for it.I waited for a change in my breathing, for heat under my skin, for a sudden sadness I could not explain. I waited for my chest to ti

Nathaniel’s POVAdam sat across from me, shoulders squared, hands resting on his knees instead of the chair arms. He had learned early that I noticed things like that. The office was dimmed in the evening sunlight. I focused directly on the folder between us.Evie’s folder.It lay open with pages that said very little. A handful of photographs. Hospital intake notes. A blood group written in red ink by a doctor who had not known how important it would become.“How soon,” I asked, “can you find her.”Adam did not answer immediately. He never did when the truth was not clean.“There’s no digital trail,” he said finally. “No credit card. No ID records. No social presence. We need to start looking for all these records.”I leaned back slightly. “And the photo.”“That helps,” he said. “The blood group helps more. But without a starting identity, it’s a wide search. It will take time.”“How much.”He met my eyes. “Weeks, if she’s staying put. Longer if she’s moving.”I nodded once.Adam sto