1 Everyone in Silver Creek whispered the same story: Cecilia Newman, heiress to a fortune, had only settled for me, for this gilded cage of a marriage, because she couldn’t have her first love, Leo. I paid the rumors no mind. I believed that true devotion could move mountains. One afternoon, Cecilia called to say the Alaskan king crab she’d ordered for me had just arrived at the airport, and she was going to pick it up herself. My heart swelled. I pulled out the steamer and the good silverware, happily anticipating her return. But the crab never came. Instead, a call came from St. Jude’s Hospital. “Are you the husband of Cecilia Newman? The car she was in with a male companion crashed into a guardrail on the overpass. They’re both unconscious. Please come to the hospital immediately.” My hands trembled as I logged into her car’s dashcam app. The footage was harrowing. After the airbags deployed, I saw her force her eyes open, her voice a ragged whisper. “If I die,” she breathed, “I voluntarily bequeath all my personal assets to Leo.” I rushed to the hospital. Cecilia was lying in bed, a plaster cast immobilizing her neck, lost in a drugged sleep. The doctor pulled me aside, warning me to be especially careful with the left side of her cervical spine, which had sustained the most severe damage. He theorized that in the instant before the crash, she must have wrenched the wheel hard to the right, instinctively shielding her passenger. I remembered when she’d won a championship racing trophy, she’d boasted to me, “In my car, nothing will ever hurt you.” But I hadn’t been in the passenger seat. “Leo…” The name was a faint sigh on her lips, a ghost from her unconscious mind. Her “last will and testament” echoed in my head, a cold wave of disappointment washing over me. When she finally opened her eyes and saw me, the flicker of worry in them vanished. “I couldn’t bring the crab back for you,” she said flatly. Before I could respond, as if my answer didn't matter, her voice sharpened with urgency. “Julian, the man who was with me… how is he?” “The doctor said he’s fine. ‘Well-protected,’ thanks to you. Just a few scrapes on his arm.” She caught the ice in my tone. “Julian, don’t overthink this. Leo is my assistant. This was a work-related accident, and it’s my responsibility to make sure he’s okay.” Just then, Leo himself appeared at the door. “Cece!” He rushed to her bedside, grabbing her hand. His voice was thick with emotion. “I thought I’d never see you again… I was so worried.” “Oh, Leo, I’m alright.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “Your arm is hurt, you shouldn’t be walking around. I’ll be fine, and you have to be, too.” She gently guided him to sit on the edge of her bed. Then, she turned to me, her tone shifting from gentle concern to brisk command. “Julian, go talk to the hospital administrator. I want Leo’s bed moved in here. I… I have work to discuss, and it’s more convenient this way.” “This is a private VIP room,” I said, my brow furrowed as I watched them. “The monitoring equipment is set up for one patient. How can they add another bed?” Leo looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh, Mr. Quinn, you’re here…” He shook his head at Cecilia. “Cece, I’ll be fine in my own room. I don’t want to be a bother.” “No, it’s no bother at all!” she insisted, a playful pout on her lips. “They can bring in more equipment. I won’t rest easy unless you’re where I can see you.” She looked back at me. “Julian, go handle Leo’s admission paperwork and pay for it. My phone was smashed in the crash.” “There’s no need to trouble Mr. Quinn,” Leo said, a hint of pride in his eyes. He always believed my family's business was propped up by the Newmans, and his disdain for me was palpable. “Just transfer me the funds for the hospital bill. I can handle it myself.” He held out his phone. “Mr. Quinn, you can scan my code to add me.” As he extended his hand, the silver cross hanging from a chain around his neck caught the light, and the sight was like a needle in my eye. It was the same design Cecilia had admired on our trip to Bali. She had bought the women’s version right in front of me. I never imagined she had secretly bought the men’s version for him. I transferred him the money. As I did, I noticed a red dot on his social media profile, indicating a new post. I clicked on it. It was a video, taken right after the crash. Cecilia, unconscious, was cradled in his arms. The caption read: “Surviving the crash with the love of my life in my arms. What a blessing to finally have my lost love back.” Beneath it, a flood of likes and comments from our mutual friends, offering their concern and their congratulations. So they all knew. Everyone knew but me. I scrolled down. On every date Cecilia had told me she was on a “business trip,” Leo’s feed was updated with pictures: sprawling ocean-view suites, champagne and candlelight, bathtubs filled with white rose petals, and the unmistakable, angry red love bites on Cecilia’s neck. I closed my eyes, steadying myself against a wave of nausea. I walked out of the room and dialed my assistant. “Marcus,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Start pulling our capital out of Newman Industries. Prepare to sever all ties.” 2 Our families had been intertwined for years, our business empires woven together. It would take time to untangle everything. Once it was done, I would vanish from Cecilia’s world for good. When I returned to the room, Cecilia’s friends had arrived. They were clustered around her and Leo, laughing and teasing. Cecilia was taking small, delicate bites of porridge that Leo was feeding her with his own hand. Someone nudged their friend, smirking. “You’ve gotta hand it to Julian. The man is incredibly magnanimous.” The comment drew a round of snickers. Another chimed in, praising Cecilia. “Honestly, our Cece is an icon. A queen with her king at home and a prince on the side. We should all be taking notes.” Cecilia’s face was flushed, and Leo’s expression was one of pure devotion. They were the perfect picture of a loving couple. Even the nurses at the station were whispering excitedly. “I always heard Mr. and Mrs. Newman’s marriage was the real deal, a true love match. Seeing it in person… it’s so sweet.” “You don’t know the half of it! It was a marriage of giants, sure, but the Quinn family’s business is in downstream materials—not exactly glamorous. But she was crazy about him! She bought him a whole island in the Atlantic, named it ‘Quinn Isle’ after him, and had ships bring in enough white roses to cover the entire thing for their fairytale wedding! It was the most romantic thing ever!” At that wedding, Cecilia had declared to the world that I was the love of her life. The language of white roses is “I am worthy of you.” I always thought she did it to silence the rumors that my family was leeching off hers, that I was some sort of kept husband. I thought it was her way of showing the world her love for me. It wasn't until I saw the bouquet of fresh white roses by Leo’s bedside—undoubtedly meant for her—that the truth hit me. It was never about me. White roses were simply the flowers Leo loved to give her. Finally, someone shattered the cloying fantasy. “Julian, you’re here,” said Nancy, one of Cecilia’s friends, spotting me by the door. I gave a curt nod. The nurses at the door realized they’d been fawning over the wrong leading man and scattered in embarrassment. Leo paused with the spoon halfway to Cecilia’s mouth. She pouted, her disappointment obvious. “Julian, Cece is just so crazy about you,” Nancy said, trying to smooth things over. “Yesterday, she specifically told me to go pick up the Alaskan king crab you love from the airport.” She shot Cecilia a look, as if expecting praise for her quick thinking. But Cecilia’s expression only grew more rigid. “I… I heard there was a problem at the office on my way, so I asked Nancy to pick it up instead,” she lied. Then, looking at me, she added coolly, “Julian, I trust you can distinguish between what’s important and what isn't.” Yesterday, I was consumed with guilt, blaming myself for her getting into an accident while fetching crab for me. Today, I learned that her “important business” was a date with Leo. She had lied to my face. “Do you remember the vows we made at our wedding?” I asked her, my voice low. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Julian, don’t make a scene. The quarterly settlement is coming up.” It was a veiled threat. The Quinn family operated as a downstream supplier to the Newman conglomerate. On paper, our accounts always showed a loss. Every quarter, my father-in-law would have Cecilia transfer a large sum to us as a “subsidy.” Cecilia always believed she was plugging the leaks in my family’s failing business. She never denied the rumors that the Quinns were parasites, sucking the Newman empire dry. Except it was all a charade. It was only after my father passed away and I took full control of the company that I understood the game my father and hers had been playing. A game, it seemed, that Mr. Newman had never bothered to explain to his own daughter. “Tch, the third wheel who stole another man’s love has some nerve, putting on airs like that. Pathetic.” One of Leo’s friends spoke just loud enough for the whole room to hear. Every head swiveled in my direction. “All I know,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence, “is that the man with a government-stamped marriage certificate to Cecilia Newman is me. So who, exactly, is the third wheel here? Leo?” Leo’s face flushed with humiliation. Cecilia’s heart immediately went out to him. “That’s enough!” she snapped. “Are you all here to visit me or to cause trouble? Get out! All of you!” As the room cleared, I turned to leave as well, unwilling to be part of this farce any longer. “Julian,” Cecilia called out, her lips pursed. “I have an IV drip this afternoon. Aren’t you going to stay with me?” She had a history of allergic reactions. I used to stay by her side through every single infusion, terrified something might happen. “Will you be short on company?” I asked without turning back, and walked out the door. Leo followed me into the hallway, blocking my path. “Julian, you know Cecilia and I have history. Are you really content being my replacement?” Cecilia and I were supposed to have been the perfect match. Childhood friends from families of equal standing. Our parents were always creating opportunities for us to be together. 3 As a child, I was quiet and reserved, while Cecilia was a blazing sun, brimming with a fierce sense of justice. When a bully at school tore up my textbooks, she slapped him clean across the face and then made it her mission to hunt him down and slap him again every day for the rest of the semester. Though she was a girl, she was drawn to high-octane thrills like car racing. For every race, she insisted I wait for her at the finish line. A track without me at the end, she’d say, was meaningless. But then, the Newman family caught a wave of fortune and soared, becoming the most powerful dynasty in Silver Creek. Suddenly, Cecilia and I were no longer a perfect match. Her parents began to subtly steer our paths apart, transferring her to the international division of our school. They wanted a more prestigious fiancé for her, someone from a truly noble lineage. That person was Leo. Cecilia, rebellious to her core, resisted. With fifty pounds of bone in her body, forty-nine were pure defiance. Leo, at the time a spoiled scion himself, had no interest in the girl who fought him at every turn. On the surface, they were like fire and water. But a knot of unease tightened in my chest. I saw it in her eyes—a stubborn, obsessive need to win. It was the beginning of her fascination with him. Then, Leo’s family went bankrupt. His father vanished, and Leo plummeted from grace, hounded by debt collectors on the streets. When Cecilia heard the news, she grabbed a suitcase full of cash and stormed into some back-alley clinic to rescue him. From that day on, the love story of Cecilia Newman and Leo became the stuff of legend in our circle. Girls swooned over the fallen prince who had won the heart of Silver Creek’s wealthiest heiress, proclaiming that his good fortune was destined to return. To be honest, I envied him too. But the chasm between Cecilia’s status and Leo’s destitution was too vast. Their story was doomed from the start. As their romance reached a fever pitch, Cecilia’s mother summoned Leo. She made it clear that she would never allow her daughter to marry a man drowning in debt. But, she offered to pay off the remainder of his liabilities on one condition: he had to disappear from Cecilia’s life forever. Leo took the deal. He vanished, reappearing somewhere across the ocean. Cecilia searched for him like a woman possessed. When she couldn't find him, she sank into a deep depression and finally acquiesced to a family-arranged marriage. “As long as it’s not Leo,” she told her friends, “it doesn’t matter who I marry.” In the end, she chose me. I knew why. Of all the candidates, she knew me best. She believed I would never vanish, that I could offer her the security she craved. Her family, scarred by the Leo debacle, quickly agreed that the Quinns were a safe, respectable choice. And because I loved her, I had no regrets. In my youthful ignorance, I truly believed that devotion could conquer all. At our fairytale wedding, we took our vows, promising to be honest with each other, to never deceive. But now, Leo was back. And Cecilia had broken her promise. A replacement? For the first few years of our marriage, we were like most couples in arranged unions: polite, respectful, and living separate lives, though we were both faithful. The tabloids were ruthless. Microphones shoved in my face. “Mr. Quinn, your company’s latest financial reports show another year of losses! Is it true that Mrs. Newman has to bail you out every year?” “Mr. Quinn, what’s your response to the rumors that you willingly serve as a stand-in for your wife’s first love, all to leech off the Newman empire?” Cecilia would always rush to my defense, shielding me from the flashing cameras. “Julian is the husband I chose with my own heart,” she would declare. “Anyone who dares to slander us again can expect a letter from my lawyer.” In those moments, I felt safe. One night, she came into my bedroom, dizzy from too much wine. “Do you know who I am?” I asked, catching her wandering hands. “My husband, of course,” she murmured, her eyes shimmering in the dark. “Julian, what a silly question.” Her hand rested on my chest. “You didn’t answer the reporters’ questions today,” I said, my heart hammering. I clenched my fists, deciding to be brave, just this once. “Are you still in love with Leo?” She nuzzled against me like a kitten. “Of course not. That’s all in the past.” I could no longer contain the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. I claimed her that night, fiercely, desperately. After that, something shifted. We became like any other couple. Cecilia started paying attention to my daily life, my every move. The delayed affection burned all the hotter, as if trying to make up for five years of missed opportunities. She knew I loved crab, so every autumn, she’d fly with me to a five-star Michelin restaurant in Alaska. She promised we’d return every year, no matter how busy we were. She even gave up racing, because I told her I couldn't bear even the million-to-one chance of losing her. Was all of that just a reward for being a good stand-in? My thoughts snapped back to the present. Leo was still blocking my way in the hospital corridor. I shoved him aside impatiently. “Garbage belongs in the trash.”
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