Isabelle Vance, the woman Julian Godin had loved for nine years, was back in the country. And she’d brought a three-year-old daughter with her. The fragile warmth that had just begun to thaw my marriage to him froze solid overnight. At our anniversary dinner, a grand affair filled with the city's elite, Julian decided to prove to her that our marriage was nothing more than a business contract. In front of everyone, he had a doctor brought in to examine me. The doctor’s clinical pronouncement echoed in the sudden silence: "Mrs. Godin, married for three years, is still a virgin." I lay on the medical cot, my dress pushed aside, my eyes hollow as I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of a hundred mocking gazes. Afterward, he tossed the Southbridge project proposal onto the table in front of me, his eyes glacial. "Ava," he said, his voice dripping with contempt, "to endure a humiliation like that just to remain Mrs. Godin… you really are pathetic." A faint, almost silent laugh escaped my lips. He had no idea. The woman who signed that marriage certificate three years ago was my twin sister. The title of Mrs. Godin—and Julian himself—were things I had never once wanted. 1 I photographed the project proposal and sent it to my mother. A moment later, a notification lit up my phone. A deposit of forty thousand dollars. It came with a text: Stop dragging your sister's name through the mud with your pathetic stunts. I stared at the screen, my thumb unconsciously tracing the frayed red cord on my wrist. Finally, I typed back a calm reply. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I had just gotten home and collapsed onto my bed when my phone buzzed again. It was Julian. "Get to the hospital. Now." His voice was as cold and sharp as splintered ice. A shiver shot through me. I scrambled out of bed and into a cab, my heart pounding against my ribs. I sprinted through the automatic doors of the emergency room, but before I could even process what was happening, one of Julian’s men slammed me against the wall, a hand tight around my throat. Julian sat on a bench nearby, idly flicking a silver lighter open and shut. "Isabelle says you're the one who hired someone to run them off the road." My face flushed, and I struggled to force out the words. "I… didn't…" He finally looked at me, his eyes void of warmth. "Proof?" I had none. I'd only just heard about it myself. How could I have proof? Julian’s brow tightened. His man immediately shoved me, and I stumbled, falling hard to the cold tile floor. I swallowed the coppery taste of blood in my mouth and tried to explain, but a sharp kick sent me sprawling again. He rose and walked over, looming above me. "If you don't want a divorce, you'll stay on your knees right there. When her surgery is over, you can get up." I met his gaze and understood instantly. He'd already decided I was guilty. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I lowered my head and knelt silently outside the operating room, my fingers finding the familiar comfort of the red cord on my wrist. I couldn't get a divorce. Not yet. I don't know how many hours I knelt there. The feeling in my legs, from my knees to my ankles, had long since vanished. My body finally gave out, and the world dissolved into blackness. When I came to, the light above the operating room door was off. I was still on the floor, and a dull ache radiated through my entire body. It took several tries just to push myself up. "Ava." Julian's voice came from above. I lifted my head, my neck stiff with pain. I wondered why he wasn't with Isabelle. "It's been three years," he said, crouching down, his long fingers closing around my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. "Did you really start to think I had feelings for you?" My eyelashes fluttered, but I said nothing. "As long as you stay away from her and her daughter, you can keep your title. I can give you anything you want, Ava. Anything but love. Do you understand?" The stark light of the hospital corridor haloed him. I suddenly remembered the small, tasseled lamp he'd brought back for me from a business trip to the Middle East last year. He had placed it gently on my bedside table, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "You don't have to be afraid of the dark anymore," he’d said. "This will keep the darkness away." I never knew how he found out about my fear, but the rare tenderness in his eyes that night… it had allowed me to believe, just for a moment, that something real might be growing in the barren soil of our fake marriage. "I know," I whispered, my voice steadier than I expected. "I never thought that." Julian’s eyes narrowed, searching my face for a lie. Our gazes locked for a long moment before he suddenly grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. A searing pain shot through my knees, and I nearly collapsed, but his other hand shot out, steadying me at the waist. "Remember what you said," he warned, his voice a low growl. I watched him walk away and managed a bleak, twisted smile. My phone began to vibrate violently. I answered, and my mother’s impatient voice burst through the speaker. "Your sister is coming back in two months. Get ready to switch." My breath hitched. My hand tightened around the phone. "The money…" My mother clicked her tongue in disgust. "I don't know where you get your obsession with money. It’s so common. You'll get your payment. Twenty million to buy your silence. Is that enough?" A genuine smile finally touched my lips. "Yes. Thank you, Ma'am." The formal address only seemed to irritate her more. She hung up without another word. Some of the tension I'd been holding for years began to ease. I stared at the red cord on my wrist and whispered to the empty air. "Once you're better, we'll go see the northern lights." 2 I was never the one meant to marry Julian Godin. Ten years ago, my twin sister Scarlett’s congenital heart condition flared up. The sight of me would send her into fits of tears. She’d cry about how unfair it was that I was healthy, that I had stolen her share of nutrients in the womb. Her sobs broke our parents' hearts, and in a fit of misplaced justice, they sent me away to live in a rural town. A child ignored by her parents is a child ignored by everyone. The housekeeper never sent the living expenses my parents had promised. At my hungriest, I fought with stray dogs for scraps of food. That was when Leo found me and took me in. The villagers all laughed at him. "Look at the simpleton, picking up a beggar for a wife." But I knew he wasn't born that way. He had a brain tumor. Three years ago, when his illness was at its worst, the Sterling family came for me. They brought me back from the countryside and ordered me to marry into the Godin family in my sister’s place. Scarlett refused to be tied down. She wanted to chase "true love." On the eve of her wedding, she ran off with another man. Terrified of offending the Godins, my parents suddenly remembered they had a spare daughter. I agreed to the substitution on one condition: forty thousand dollars a month, deposited directly into my account. Leo’s life was sustained by a series of experimental injections. He needed one every three months, at a cost of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars each. My compliance was the price of his life. Julian spent a full month at the hospital with Isabelle and her daughter, Kate. When he finally came home, a dark cloud hung around him. I knew that look. He'd been forced to see his father. I tried to slip away unnoticed, but he saw me. "Ava." His voice was heavy, his expression unreadable. "I need an heir." I spun around, my eyes locking with his cold, hard gaze. He stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a humorless laugh. "What, you're not willing?" My throat felt like it was closing up. I couldn't speak. "The Godin family needs an heir," he stated, his tone quiet but absolute. I clenched my fists, forcing a smile. "Of course. I'm willing." He loosened his tie with a careless tug and took a step closer. His warm breath ghosted across my cheek. I went rigid, fighting the urge to flinch. As I closed my eyes in resignation, he let out a soft, mocking scoff. "So eager to have me in your bed?" He stepped past me, his shoulder brushing mine. "Too bad. It’ll be IVF." The study door slammed shut behind him. It was only then that I realized my legs had given out. I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. 3 The IVF process was more agonizing than I could have imagined. The hormone shots used a needle that was long and thick, and the moment it pierced my skin, my vision would swim with black spots. "You must really love your husband," the nurse remarked one day as she administered the injection, "to go through all this for him." My mind was a fog of pain. I mumbled a vague agreement. When I looked up, I saw Julian standing in the doorway. He wasn't supposed to be here. His eyes were dark, fixed on me. After the nurse left, advising me to rest, I lay on the bed, weak and drenched in a cold sweat. Julian took a few steps into the room, looking like he was about to say something, but his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone he’d set for Isabelle. "Julian, Kate says she misses you…" A little girl's cheerful voice calling for her "Daddy" drifted through the phone. For a fleeting moment, Julian's expression softened. He hung up and stood there, frowning at me, hesitating. I didn't understand what he was waiting for, but I knew my role. As the understanding wife, I offered a weak smile. "Go ahead. I'm fine." His frown only deepened. He studied my face, as if searching for something he couldn't find. Finally, he just said, "My assistant, Mr. Hughes, will take care of you." I was surprised. Hughes was his personal right-hand man, dedicated solely to him. To have him assigned to me over a simple medical procedure felt like an absurdly grand gesture. The moment Julian was gone, I reached into my purse and pulled out the birth control pills I'd been carrying. I swallowed them dry. I couldn't get pregnant. I was leaving soon, and I wanted no deeper ties to Julian Godin. When Mr. Hughes drove me back to the Godin estate, Isabelle's daughter, Kate, was in the living room playing with blocks. After the incident, Julian had moved them both into the house. I'd heard of Isabelle long before I married Julian. She was his first love, the symbol of his youthful rebellion against his powerful family. The moment Kate saw me, she shrieked and charged, throwing a wooden block that hit me squarely in the stomach. "Bad woman! Get out! Don't steal my daddy!" The force of her push sent me staggering backward. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of a coffee table, and I gasped, a sharp pain radiating through me. "Kate!" Isabelle cried, rushing to scoop up the child. Her eyes immediately reddened. "I'm so sorry, Ava. She's just a child, she doesn't understand…" She trailed off, her own tears starting to fall as if she were the one who had been wronged. "Ava, what are you doing?" Julian’s sharp voice cut through the air as he strode down the stairs. He instinctively moved to shield Isabelle and Kate behind him. I opened my mouth to speak, but Isabelle's sobs grew louder. "Julian, Kate has been having nightmares. She dreams that Ava is going to throw her out… She's too young to understand adult problems." She dabbed at her eyes, then gave Kate a subtle pat on the back. The little girl immediately launched herself at Julian. "Daddy, I don't want a stepmom! She'll throw me and Mommy out on the street!" Julian’s face darkened. He lifted Kate into his arms, his glare fixed on me. "What did you say to her?" I lost all desire to even try to explain. I just stood there in silence. Isabelle continued her performance, her voice thick with manufactured grief. "It's all my fault. It's because of my humble background that she has to live with the stigma of being an illegitimate child. Now that Miss Sterling is the real Mrs. Godin, we…" Julian cut her off, his voice turning to ice as he addressed me. "Get this straight, Ava. The thing in your womb is nothing more than a tool to appease my family. The moment that child is born, I'm sending it abroad." He took a menacing step toward me. From the safety of his arms, Kate stuck her tongue out at me. "Now," he commanded, "apologize to Kate." I looked at their perfect family tableau. I was so close to being free. I didn't want any more trouble. "I'm sorry," I said, bowing my head, the words coming out numb and automatic. "I'm sorry. It was my fault." My compliance didn't seem to satisfy him. His brow remained tightly furrowed. Isabelle, however, was pleased, graciously accepting my apology. To "make it up" to them, Julian cleared his schedule and took them on a lavish vacation. They went on cruises, he bought her jewelry at a Sotheby’s auction, they even flew to see the northern lights. Isabelle took great pleasure in sending me photos every single day. I would reply with the same robotic blessing. Hope you have a wonderful time. Who Julian was with, or what he did, meant nothing to me. In my heart, I was just counting down the days until I could be myself again. 4 As the exchange date drew closer, I started packing a little bit each day. The quiet hope for a future that was my own began to kindle inside me. Tonight, I had just zipped up the last suitcase when a call came from the hospital. The nurse’s voice was urgent. "Miss Sterling? The patient in room 703, his condition has taken a sudden turn for the worse. He might not… he might not make it through the night." My hands froze. I didn't even grab a coat. I flew down the stairs, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble. I reached the grand foyer just as the front door swung open. Julian and Isabelle were back from their trip, loaded down with shopping bags. "Well, well, Miss Sterling. Where are you off to so late at night?" Isabelle blocked my path, a fake smile plastered on her face. I had no time for her. I tried to move around her, but she grabbed my arm, her expression shifting to one of mock concern. "You look terribly pale, Ava. Is something wrong?" I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. A cruel, playful glint flashed in her eyes. She could see my desperation and was enjoying it. Thinking of the nurse's words, a surge of adrenaline hit me. I tore my arm from her grasp. "Get out of my way," I snarled. "Who do you think you are to stop me?" "Daddy!" Kate shrieked, startled by my outburst, and buried her face in Julian's chest. "Auntie Ava is scary… she's like a wicked witch…" Isabelle flinched, then immediately dissolved into tears, looking helplessly at Julian. "I… I was just worried about her… The doctor said she needs to rest during the treatment." Julian’s expression was thunderous. His gaze flickered down to my bare feet and back up to my face. "Go back to your room. I'll have the family doctor come and see you." "No," I said, shaking my head frantically. "I'm fine. I don't need a doctor. I have to go out. Right now." My defiance made his eyes harden. "I said, go back to your room." Every second we stood there felt like an eternity of torture. I clenched my jaw. "I have to leave. It's important. I have to—" "You're not going anywhere until the doctor has checked on you," Isabelle interrupted, her voice dripping with false concern. "Nothing is more important than the baby, Ava. You should go upstairs." Julian gave a subtle nod, and two housekeepers moved to grab my arms. Panic exploded in my chest. "I have to go out!" I screamed. "Don't touch me!" They froze, looking uncertainly at Julian. He didn't even glance at me, turning instead to comfort the sobbing Kate. "Take the madam back to her room." His voice was flat and final. "Do not let her leave without my permission."
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