As the heir to the Sterling empire, Asher Sterling had been engaged to me since we were children. Because of my status as his fiancée, I controlled every aspect of his life. Every time I tightened the leash, Asher would glare at me with pure hatred and spit out, "Blaire Thorne, just you wait. One day I’m going to cancel this bullshit engagement." Then, I accidentally found out I was a "fake heiress"—switched at birth. I decided to keep my head down. I stopped asking about Asher’s whereabouts. I stopped forcing him to fulfill his "fiancé duties." After half a month of silence, his frat brothers threw a massive party to celebrate his freedom. But instead of celebrating, Asher had a mental breakdown on the spot. "Who told you to stop watching me? Who gave you permission?" "Are you happy now? She’s actually gone to find some other dog." 1 "Blaire, Asher is out with Carter and that crew again. Getting wasted." In the dimly lit lounge, the bass of the club music thumped against the walls. My best friend, Harper, was showing me a video on her phone, but my mind was elsewhere. I took the phone. On the screen, Asher was wearing a flashy crimson dress shirt, unbuttoned low. He was leaning against a limited-edition McLaren, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers, looking bored and dangerous. He was surrounded by a group of trust fund babies, each with a scantily clad model on their arm. I watched it calmly, then handed the phone back to Harper. "It’s fine. Let him be." "Are you okay?" Harper pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. "No fever." "Are you an imposter? Who are you and what have you done with the real Blaire Thorne?" "Harper," I shot her a look. "Do I need to bring up the embarrassing story from your sixth birthday to prove it's me?" I grabbed my bag and stood up. "I'm heading out." I couldn't blame Harper for being shocked. Since I was eight, I had been Asher’s shadow, managing his life with an iron fist. Before, I had the right to control him. Now... I wasn't so sure. Because soon, I wouldn't be Asher Sterling’s fiancée anymore. 2 Three days ago, I found out I wasn't my parents' biological daughter. I was switched at birth. It wouldn't be long before the Thorne family’s real daughter was found. The fate of a "fake heiress" in our social circle was predictable. I had offended plenty of people over the years, using my status as the Thorne princess and the future Mrs. Sterling. Half of Manhattan was waiting for me to fall from grace. Especially Asher. Since we turned eighteen, I had enforced three strict rules on him: No smoking, no binge drinking, no fighting, and no hanging out with his loser friends. No staying out overnight. Home by midnight. Fulfill the obligations of a fiancé—intimacy at least three times a week. Every time he chafed under my rules, he’d threaten to dump me. I never took it seriously. But now, things were different. Old money marriages were about mergers and acquisitions. Even if Grandfather Sterling liked me, he wouldn't let his grandson marry a woman with zero leverage. This engagement was doomed. To prevent Asher from kicking me while I was down later, I decided to cut my losses. I would stop controlling him immediately. 3 I didn't go find Asher. I went straight to our shared penthouse. But the moment I walked in, Asher followed. Hearing the door click, I instinctively looked up. Our eyes met. Asher looked almost guilty for a second, trying to dodge my gaze, but then he locked eyes with me defiantly. He lifted his chin, his voice unnecessarily loud. "Blaire, that's right. I went out with Carter and the guys today. I smoked, and I drank." I didn't argue like I usually would. I just gave a soft "Hmm," and turned to go to my room. "Blaire—" Asher crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed my wrist. His obsidian eyes bore into mine, a flicker of anxiety beneath the surface. "Did you hear me? I said I smoked and drank." "I know," I said, my voice flat. "You don't need to report to me. As long as you're happy." "Cut the crap, Blaire." The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smug smirk. "I know you're still mad." "Because I didn't take you to the gala last time? Or because I haven't come home in three days?" "No, I haven't..." He cut me off. "You can't pretend you don't care tonight." Asher started unbuttoning his shirt. He had a swimmer's build—broad shoulders, tapered waist, defined abs. He was undeniably hot. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his stomach. Then he looked away, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. "I'm letting you off easy. You can touch whatever you want tonight." I glanced at the calendar. Right. It was one of our "scheduled" nights. Usually, I had to remind him. Tonight, he was weirdly proactive. "Asher, I'm not in the mood." I pulled my hand away and bolted into my room, locking the door behind me. 4 I woke up around noon the next day. Asher was shockingly still home. He was sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with exaggerated nonchalance. When I walked out, he coughed, put the phone down, and spoke in a bored tone. "Blaire, didn't you say your wardrobe was getting stale? I have time today. I'll drive you to Fifth Avenue." "No thanks, I'm meeting Harper." I rejected him without thinking. "Seriously, Blaire? How long are you going to keep this up?" Asher stormed over and seized my wrist again, his brows knitted together. "I'm giving you an out here. Are you planning to snitch on me to my grandfather again?" So that was it. He was worried about the old man. "Don't worry," I waved my hand dismissively. "I won't. I realized I was too controlling before." "The three rules are void. From now on, do whatever you want. I won't interfere." "Really." I held up three fingers. "I swear." "Blaire, you..." Asher looked at me in disbelief, his eyes glistening with sudden, inexplicable rage. His chest heaved. Finally, he turned his face away, his jaw tight. "Fine. Suit yourself." He slammed the door so hard on his way out that the walls shook. What was his problem? I met Harper at a cafe and told her about the identity switch. Harper stared at me for a long time. "So... you think the engagement is over, so you're preemptively quiet quitting the relationship?" "Yeah." "But have you considered that Asher might actually have feelings for you? He might not want to break up." "Asher hates me," I laughed bitterly. "Just last week, he told everyone he couldn't stand me."
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