The real heiress returned, and I was thrown out. Sobbing, I called the fiancé from my arranged marriage. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, “I’m not your fiancée anymore. We should break up.” His reply was firm. “Break up? No way. We’re not breaking up.” And now, he’s standing in front of the tiny apartment I just rented, loaded down with bags, staring at me as I stare back at him. He stated it simply. “Because I’m a fake, too.” 1 Landon and I stood there, face to face, in the cramped doorway of my new apartment. Tears clung to my lashes, threatening to fall, but the absurdity of the moment held them back. The fake heiress and the fake heir. A matched set. I stammered, “You… when did you find out?” Landon thought for a moment. “They told you this morning, right?” I nodded. “For me, it was this afternoon.” The tears wouldn't come anymore. When I first found out, my immediate thought was that it was over between Landon and me. He was handsome, wealthy, and didn’t mind my quiet, reserved personality. He was the perfect partner I had always dreamed of. Without my status as an heiress, our future was impossible. But now, it wasn't over. Or maybe it was. Honestly, it might have been better if it were. Landon bent down and started effortlessly moving his bags inside, leaving me stunned. “Let me crash here until I find a new place, okay… fiancée?” He was tall and lean, with a strength that didn't fit the image of a disowned heir. I sniffled. “Don’t call me that.” Landon paused, turning to look at me. The lump in my throat grew. “It makes us sound pathetic. Poor and trying to pretend we’re not.” I was being honest. This whole scenario felt like some tragic indie romance with a CEO trope. People online would laugh at us for days. A laugh escaped Landon’s lips. “Sloane, I never realized you were such a proud little thing.” I covered my face with my hands. 2 I sat on the sofa, surveying the room. The small space was now cluttered with luggage and boxes. And a very long-legged Landon. The apartment was tiny to begin with, but with him in it, it felt like there was no room to even stretch. The more I thought about it, the more miserable I felt. Tears began to stream down my face again. “Hey, don’t cry.” Landon’s voice was gentle as he reached out with a tissue to dab at my tears. “Your eyes will get all puffy.” I turned my head away. “Back then… when I cried, how did you used to comfort me?” Landon considered it carefully. “Well, I’d come find you. We’d go out to eat, go shopping, see a movie. I’d help you bake your little cakes, and then I’d eat them.” Baking was my escape, and Landon was my most willing taste-tester. No one else in my family would touch my sweet, decadent pastries. Too sinful, too bourgeois. I shook my head softly. That wasn't what I meant. Back then, when I cried, he had to cross half the estate just to wipe away my tears. Now, his arm was practically too long for the short distance between us. Landon’s shoulders started to shake. I thought he was crying, too. I looked down. He was smiling, a wide, brilliant smile. “…” I retreated to a corner, wrapped in my misery. 3 I never would have realized how capable Landon was if we hadn't been thrown out. While I was still drowning in my sorrow, he had already unpacked, organized everything, and cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom. I was flabbergasted. Unfazed, he smoothed a sheet over the mattress and asked me the most important question. “Didn’t they give you any money when you left? Why did you rent a place this small? Can you even sleep here?” There was only one bed. All my valuables had been confiscated. That morning, when Scarlett and my mother—no, her mother—walked in to break the news to me, she had ordered me to leave everything behind. She said Scarlett had suffered for too many years in my place, and now it was my turn to taste that same hardship. Scarlett’s expression had been placid, a mirror image of her mother’s. No wonder she’d always suspected I wasn’t her biological daughter. We were complete opposites. I was an introvert, mild-mannered and quiet. She was a social powerhouse, decisive and commanding. My adoptive mother had never shown me much warmth, and now, knowing the truth, she’d retracted what little affection she had left. “Sloane, what’s your plan now?” Landon asked. The only plan was to take it one day at a time. I could survive on my own. I had to. He finished with the bed. “There’s only one bed. I’ll take the couch.” I was silent for a moment. I hadn’t really planned on him staying. But then… I pictured Landon’s long legs cramped up on that tiny sofa. It was just too pitiful. I slowly edged closer to him. “Landon, how long have we been together?” “We’ve known each other for 1,342 days. We’ve been a couple for 312 days.” I was shocked. “How do you remember that so clearly?” “Sorry, Sloane. It’s the OCD. I have to be perfect about everything.” Ah, that explained it. I cleared my throat and adopted a serious tone. “Well, since we’ve been a couple for over… three hundred days… I guess sleeping in the same bed isn’t a huge deal. You don’t have to take the couch.” I was worried he wouldn’t sleep well. It was the old me, always worrying that everyone around me was uncomfortable, even if I couldn’t provide them with the best conditions. I didn’t want him waking up with an aching back. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting one half of his face in shadow and making the strong line of his nose even more pronounced. He sat up. “Sloane, do you know what you’re saying?” For the first time, he looked genuinely serious. “What’s wrong?” I asked, confused. Landon softened his tone. “If you were with any other guy, you should never, ever agree to share a bed just because you’ve known him for a while.” But I wouldn't be with any other guy. Tears started to well up in my eyes again. I thought I understood his hidden meaning. “Are you trying to break up with me?” I would understand. Just as I had never expected our engagement to last after the news broke. Oh, I couldn't call it an engagement anymore. That was just pretending. Landon moved closer to me, his voice a low murmur. “Forget it.” He nodded slightly. “Because that other guy is me. And that will never change.” I was even more confused now. What was he even talking about? 4 We lay stiffly in bed. Or maybe it was just me. Landon was already asleep. His long, dark lashes rested against his cheeks. He had the most beautiful eyes. I reached out a hand to touch them, but in the next second, he pulled me into his arms. I froze. “Cheeseball…” he mumbled in his sleep. Cheeseball was his cat. Had he been kicked out without even a chance to find a place for his cat? How tragic. I lay nestled in his arms, not daring to move, afraid of waking him. His scent was light and clean, a comforting fragrance that made me feel dizzy and safe all at once. I drifted in and out of a light sleep all night. In the morning, Landon saw the dark circles under my eyes and asked if I hadn't slept well. What did he think? I forced a laugh. “I’m okay… I’m just not used to sleeping with someone else.” I looked down, hiding my face. The truth was, I had woken up very early. I opened my eyes to find us tangled together like an octopus, and my heart had nearly skipped a beat. It took all my effort to untangle myself without him noticing. Thankfully, Landon acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Habits can change. Come on, let’s have breakfast.” What did he mean, habits can change? Before I could ponder it, the scent of a delicious breakfast captured my full attention. “Landon, you can cook?” He sat down, placing a piece of toast on my plate, and raised an eyebrow. “You still don’t know me very well, do you?” I ate in shame. On the 312th day of our relationship, I hadn't even known that he could cook. “It’s not your fault, Sloane,” he said, gently wiping a crumb from the corner of my mouth. “We never really had a chance to get to know each other in that environment.” All we had were clinking glasses and formal dinners. Our marriage was a bargaining chip for our families. Every meal was a business meeting, with a table full of people talking shop. We never had a moment alone. In the three years we'd known each other, we had remained polite strangers. Before, after a meal like that, I would have retreated to my little kitchen to experiment with baking, never having to worry about where my next meal came from. Now, I was stuck in this tiny apartment with nothing to do. I felt like such a failure. If I were just a lucky, useless person, I could have been useless forever. But fate had taken back its joke, and now I was just a useless person with bad luck. A tide of anxiety and insecurity washed over me, pulling me under. I braced myself. “Landon, I can’t support you. There’s no future for you with me. Maybe we should just…” Forget it. “Sloane.” Landon cut me off, his gaze intense. “If you’re trying to kick me out, I really have nowhere else to go.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Would you really do that to me?” That handsome face, those deep, beautiful eyes, were mesmerizing. Would you really do that? I have to admit, my heart softened. A flicker of pleasure crossed his eyes. He lowered his voice, making it soft and pleading. “Sloane, you’re all I have.” 5 Honestly, that one sentence gave me a new surge of strength. No one had ever needed me so desperately. In the Sutton family, I was always on the periphery. I struggled with the decision. But if I let Landon stay, how was I supposed to support both of us? Have a handsome husband to feed. Am desperate. Landon sat beside me, his voice a soft, alluring whisper. He told me he could cook, he could clean, he would wait for me to come home, and he could even go out and earn money himself. He could do anything. He added one last thing. “I just want a home I can come back to.” A tingling sensation shot up from the soles of my feet. I turned my head and found our noses were almost touching. His handsome face was right there. No one understood the power of eye contact better than Landon. He was devastatingly good-looking. Everything looked good on him. Even a simple white t-shirt and jeans looked like couture. I remembered how he had always been the center of attention in our circle, a golden boy from birth. If the Sutton family hadn't been a suitable match, and if the Conrads hadn't wanted a less… flashy… partner for their son, the engagement never would have been offered to me. When we first met, he had been so considerate, never making me feel like there was a gap between us. Everyone expected his fiancée to be a sophisticated, capable woman. And then he introduced me. A girl who didn't quite live up to anyone's expectations. Well, now it was even worse. I wasn’t even a real heiress. And if Landon was broke… well, a lot of people would probably be thrilled to see him broke. “Landon.” “Hmm?” I clenched my fists. “I think… I think we can make this work.” His eyes seemed to light up. I gritted my teeth. So what if we were a fake heiress and a fake heir? Just because we’d lost our golden ticket didn’t mean we couldn’t live, right? 6 I threw myself into finding a job, working hard, and taking on overtime. Supporting myself wasn’t as difficult as I’d thought. Before I left the Sutton manor, I overheard Scarlett say something. “Sloane Sutton won’t survive. She doesn’t know how to do anything.” My adoptive mother’s voice was flat. “I know.” She knew. I forced a smile and pretended I hadn’t heard, feeling a strange mix of anger and resignation. She saw me as insignificant. She had never thought much of me. But look at me now. I’m surviving. I can even support Landon. Once the dust of my glamorous, empty life had settled, I discovered there were actually a lot of things I could do. Landon was more invested in my job than I was. Every day, he’d have dinner ready when I got home, and he’d start his daily interrogation at the dinner table. I’d answer all his questions in detail, but I was curious. “Why do you want to know about all these trivial things?” “My adoptive parents were very strict with me.” He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes dimming slightly. “The way I was raised always confused me. But I think a family… should be about sharing. Your life, your joys, your sorrows… as your family, I should know more about those things than anyone else.” A boy broken by his demanding parents. So that was it. Landon’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “It’s okay, Sloane. If you’re tired, you don’t have to tell me anything. Just relax and eat. I was just asking.” My head spun, and I quickly waved my hands, assuring him it was fine. My ears felt hot. He considered me family. And he wanted to hear about all the random little things in my day. That made me happy. Landon’s lips curved into a smile. He seemed happy, too. 7 Landon told me that his parents had given him some startup capital when they kicked him out. He wanted to use it to open a cake shop for me. I refused. I couldn’t take his money. His eyes fell. “Don’t be sad,” I said, panicking. He shook his head. “I’m not sad. I know you have your concerns, Sloane. We were only engaged in name before. Now, even that is gone. What right do I have to do this for you?” I didn’t know what to say. For the past few weeks, whenever I tried to pull back and create some distance, he would do that—he’d look down, just so. Landon’s lashes were long and his eyes were beautiful. When he lowered them, he had this melancholy look that I couldn't quite describe. He was never like this before. He used to navigate business dinners and social events with a flawless smile, making it impossible to tell if it was genuine or a mask. He turned his face away, looking even more dejected. I felt a surge of anxiety. My priority was to cheer him up. “Okay, okay, I promise! I’ll do it. Just please don’t be sad.” He slowly turned back to me. “Really?” “Really.” His eyes curved into a smile. “Okay.” “…” Something felt a little off. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. 8 After the cake shop opened, I kept a meticulous record of the money I owed Landon. I planned to pay him back as soon as I started making a profit. But I couldn't deny my gratitude. What was once a hobby had become my passion, and I found myself completely immersed in it. I simply loved to bake. Mrs. Sutton used to say my “little hobbies” were undignified and that she didn’t want to see me wasting my time on them. So, I baked in secret. I had no talent for piano, or ballet, or the cello—none of the skills that would have allowed me to compete with the other heiresses. Even when I tried, Mrs. Sutton would just scoff. I was once filled with anxiety and sadness, unsure of what to do or who to be. When they told me the heir of the Conrad family wanted an arranged marriage with me, my first thought was—Does he know how painfully average and boring I am? I didn’t dare ask. For the first time, Mrs. Sutton smiled at me. “Sloane,” she said, “you’re finally useful.” In that moment, I felt a wave of relief. I saw Landon, and the Conrad family, as my lifeline. I had seen countless arranged marriages in our circle, and most ended badly. But they always resulted in powerful alliances. That was enough. I was useful now. All I had to do was be a proper, obedient wife, and I could bake my little cakes in peace for the rest of my life. But Landon surprised me. He was a good person. A very, very good person. So good that I was starting to truly fall for him. 9 The cake shop was quiet, but business was steady. Perhaps years of dedication to my hobby had resulted in a genuine leap in quality. I received a lot of positive reviews. Many of them said things like this: [The owner is super sweet, beautiful, and so patient, just like her cakes. I get lost just talking to her.] Huh? What was that supposed to mean? My face would flush whenever I read comments like that. Maybe it was just a new way of expressing happiness? I’d been so sheltered and subdued in the Sutton household that such open displays of emotion made me a little shy. Landon, with a straight face, would periodically delete comments like these from the shop’s page. He was particularly sensitive to any sentence containing the word “owner.” “I don’t think they mean any harm,” I’d say quietly. “They sound like compliments.” “I know. They really like you,” Landon would reply with a small smile. “But Sloane, we should set these aside for now. If we get too many comments, it clogs up the feed for new customers.” Oh, I see. That made sense. Landon was probably right. The positive reviews kept pouring in. But for a while after that, Landon’s smiles seemed forced. I figured he was just exhausted. He was always so busy, and he had to take care of me, too. I made an effort to talk to him more, to share happy things from my day. If he was unhappy, it made me sad, too. It worked. Landon’s mood visibly brightened. He was even gentler and better than I could have imagined.
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