On our third wedding anniversary, my husband Ethan Foster didn't come home all night. I saw a message on the phone he'd left at home. "Ethan, Aria's back in the country today. That bet you made back then should be over now, right? Three years. Aren't you tired of playing happy couple with that substitute yet?" Ethan replied: "A fake will always be a fake. The game's over. I'll give her some money and send her on her way." The next second, a video arrived on my phone. In the video, Ethan was passionately kissing Aria, her clothes half undone. He even said affectionately, "Aria, I love you." So after three years of marriage, I was just a stand-in for his first love. Since it was fake, since it was all a game. Ethan Foster, I'm done playing. Natalie's POV In the third year of my marriage to Ethan Foster, I thought I was the happiest woman in the world. Ethan was one of this city's most powerful elites. Decisive, ruthless, and cold. Yet he seemed to save all his tenderness and patience for me alone. He would turn down billion-dollar contracts just to pick me up after my simultaneous interpretation conferences ended. He would drive across half the city on freezing winter nights just to buy me a cake I'd casually mentioned. He even personally planted an entire greenhouse of white roses for me in our wedding home. Everyone said Ethan Foster was madly in love with me. I believed it wholeheartedly myself. Until today. Our third wedding anniversary. I'd turned down an overseas translation position with the UN headquarters and came home early to prepare an elaborate dinner. The clock struck ten PM. Ethan still hadn't returned. I sat on the sofa and picked up an old tablet Ethan had left at home. The screen lit up, and a notification chimed abruptly. It was a group chat named "Bad Boys Club." I hadn't intended to snoop, but the message that popped up on the screen was like a poisoned ice needle stabbing straight into my eyes. "Mr. Carter: Ethan, Aria's back in the country. Just finalized her divorce. That bet you made back then should be over now, right? Three years. Aren't you tired of playing happy couple with that substitute yet?" My breathing stopped cold. Aria? Aria Sinclair? Ethan's first love, the one who'd gone overseas and married a Wall Street tycoon? The messages in the group kept coming. "Mr. Hayes: Yeah, back then Aria thought your assets weren't stable enough and married someone else. You got pissed and made that bet. Said you'd find a woman with the same temper and same eyes as her, and train her to be the most obedient dog. Now Natalie's completely devoted to you and Aria's back. Time for the substitute to exit, right?" My whole body went cold. My fingers trembled uncontrollably as I scrolled up. Then I saw Ethan's reply from half an hour ago. "Ethan Foster: A fake will always be a fake. The game's over. I'll give her some money and send her on her way." Fake. Game over. Send me on my way. Those few short words were like a rusted, dull knife, slicing and shredding all the sweetness and happiness of these three years into bloody ribbons. So that meticulous tenderness was fake. Those late-night cakes were fake. That roomful of white roses was fake too. White roses. Aria Sinclair's favorite flower. And I was nothing but a substitute chosen because my eyes and temperament resembled Aria's, used by Ethan Foster to get revenge on his first love and vent his resentment! A plaything to win a bet! "Click." The villa's front door opened. Ethan walked in with a chill clinging to him. He wore a perfectly tailored black designer suit, his features deep and devastatingly handsome. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, he paused briefly, then put on that warm smile I knew so well. "Natalie, why are you still up? Didn't I say you didn't need to wait for me?" He walked over, habitually moving to pull me into his embrace. But I caught a faint scent of perfume. Jo Malone Bluebell. Not my scent. Aria Sinclair's favorite. I stiffly avoided his touch. Ethan's hand fell empty. His brow furrowed imperceptibly, but quickly smoothed out again. "Sorry, there was an emergency acquisition at the company tonight. Meeting ran until now. Even missed our anniversary. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?" He was lying. Even his lies looked so tender and flawless. I lifted my head and quietly looked at this man I'd loved for three years. "Ethan," My voice was hoarse. "Were you really at a meeting tonight?" Ethan's eyes flickered for an instant, then he laughed lightly and ruffled my hair. "Of course. Where else would I be? Stop overthinking. Get some rest." He didn't look at the table full of food that had long gone cold. He didn't notice the tablet still glowing under the sofa cushion. He walked straight toward the bathroom. Listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, I slowly closed my eyes. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, the pain making it nearly impossible to breathe. But I didn't cry. I had the same pride as Aria Sinclair. Perhaps even more. Since it was fake, since it was a game. Ethan, I'm not playing anymore.
Natalie's POV The next morning, I sat in the dining room as usual. Ethan came downstairs looking refreshed, as if last night's late return and lies had never happened. He naturally pulled out a chair and sat across from me, picking up his coffee and taking a sip with elegant, refined movements. "Natalie, I need to discuss something with you." Ethan set down his coffee cup, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. I cut into the fried egg on my plate without looking up. "What is it?" "A friend of mine just got back to the country and ran into some trouble. She doesn't have a suitable place to stay. I'm planning to let her move into the guest house behind our villa for a while." Friend. My grip on the knife and fork paused slightly. The blade scraped across the porcelain plate with a harsh screech. I looked straight into Ethan's eyes. "Which friend? Male or female?" Ethan's brow furrowed slightly, as if displeased by my questioning, but he still answered patiently. "Female. An old friend. Aria Sinclair." He didn't even bother hiding the name. Perhaps in his view, I was a canary he'd tamed for three years. I couldn't cause any trouble, and he didn't need to waste effort fabricating lies. "Aria Sinclair?" I pulled at the corner of my mouth. "Your ex-girlfriend, your first love. You want her to move into our home?" Ethan's expression darkened, his voice growing colder. "Natalie, don't be unreasonable. Aria just got divorced and left with nothing. She's emotionally unstable right now, even showing signs of depression. As a friend, helping her is only natural. Weren't you always the most understanding one?" Understanding. So my three years of patience and accommodation were just bargaining chips he could trample over my boundaries with. "I don't agree." I set down my knife and fork. "Ethan, I'm your wife. I will never allow your ex-girlfriend to live in my home." "Natalie!" Ethan slammed his hand on the table, his eyes showing undisguised irritation and coldness. "I'm informing you, not asking your permission." He stood up, looking down at me from above, tearing off that tender façade to reveal the dominance and tyranny of a capitalist at his core. "The guest house doesn't get good light. Aria has mild depression and needs more sunlight. Clear out your translation studio on the second floor and turn it into a bedroom for her." I was thunderstruck, staring at him in disbelief. That translation studio was my workspace, filled with rare foreign books I'd collected and translation manuscripts I'd poured countless hours into. And he wanted to destroy my private sanctuary just to make room for Aria Sinclair? "That's my studio!" My voice trembled slightly. "Ethan, what gives you the right?" "The fact that this villa is in my name." Ethan coldly dropped that line, then turned to the butler standing nearby. "Clear out the second-floor studio today and replace everything with French furniture Aria likes. If Mrs. Foster tries to stop you, move everything by force." With that, he didn't even glance at me before striding out of the villa. The door slammed shut with a bang that made my heart lurch violently. I looked at the breakfast spread across the table and suddenly felt my stomach churning. The butler approached with several servants, looking troubled. "Mrs. Foster, about this..." I took a deep breath and forced back the sting in my eyes. "Move it." I closed my eyes. "Pack all my things and put them in the basement." Since he wanted to make room, I'd clear everything out for him. Not just the studio, but my place in this house as well. Ethan Foster, you think winning your bet means you can trample my dignity at will? You're wrong. I, Natalie Sullivan, have never been anyone's substitute.
Natalie's POV The day Aria Sinclair moved in, light rain was falling. Ethan personally drove to pick her up. When they walked into the villa side by side, I was sitting on the living room sofa proofreading a German translation manuscript. Aria Sinclair was indeed beautiful. The kind of beauty that carried a delicate fragility favored by time. Her eyes were almost identical to mine. Aria's gaze was like a pool of spring water, capable of drowning anyone at any moment. "Ethan, this must be Miss Sullivan?" Seeing me, Aria smiled faintly, her expression carrying a subtle appraisal and an air of superiority. She called me Miss Sullivan, not Mrs. Foster. Ethan didn't correct her. He simply gave a light "Mm," then turned to Aria with a voice so gentle it could drip honey. "The room's been decorated according to your preferences. Go upstairs and see if you like it. Tell me directly if anything's missing." Watching this scene, I felt nothing but irony. For three years, Ethan had been this gentle with me too. But only today did I understand. When he looked at me tenderly, he was never seeing me. He was looking at another woman's shadow through my eyes. At dinner, the atmosphere at the table was bizarrely tense. Ethan seemed to have forgotten my existence, all his attention on Aria Sinclair. "Aria, try this. I had the chef make it specially. It used to be your favorite." Aria smiled shyly. "Thank you, Ethan. You still remember my tastes." Then she turned to look at me with feigned surprise. "Why isn't Miss Sullivan eating? Is the food not to your liking?" I looked at the dishes I didn't like before me, my stomach cramping. I'm severely allergic to cilantro. Even a little bit makes my whole body break out in red welts, and I can have difficulty breathing. In three years of marriage, Ethan had never allowed a single sprig of cilantro on our table. But today, to cater to Aria's tastes, nearly every dish on the table contained cilantro. "I'm not hungry." I said. Only then did Ethan glance at me, his brow furrowing. "Eat something even if you're not hungry. Don't sit there with that cold face. Aria just arrived, and as the lady of the house, don't you have even this much grace?" Grace? I laughed coldly inside. He brought his first love brazenly into our home, took over my studio, and now wanted me to smile graciously? "I said I'm not hungry." I stood up, meeting Ethan's gaze without backing down. "You two enjoy." I turned to leave, but Aria suddenly teared up, pulling on Ethan's sleeve pitifully. "Ethan, am I making Miss Sullivan unhappy by being here? Maybe I should move out. I don't want to damage your relationship..." "Sit down." Ethan grasped Aria's hand reassuringly, then whipped his head toward me, his eyes sharp as knives. "Natalie, apologize to Aria!" My footsteps halted. I turned back, looking at him in disbelief. "What did you say?" "I said apologize!" Ethan's voice rose several notches, carrying undeniable authority. "Aria is a guest. What kind of hospitality is this?" I looked at Ethan's face. The one I'd once been so infatuated with. Now finding it terrifyingly unfamiliar. I didn't cry or make a scene. I just looked at him quietly. "I did nothing wrong. I will never apologize." With that, I went upstairs without looking back. Behind me, Ethan's voice came, suppressing fury. "Natalie, don't be ungrateful!" I closed the bedroom door, shutting out all the noise. I leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor. The torn hole in my heart was howling as bone-chilling wind poured through. Ethan Foster, just how cruel is your heart?
Natalie's POV The annual charity gala was high society's most watched social event. As head of Foster Group, Ethan always attended with me in previous years. I'd prepared for this for half a month, even turning down an important translation conference just to walk the red carpet with him. On the afternoon of the gala, I changed into the starlight blue haute couture gown Ethan had personally selected for me half a month ago. The skirt swayed with glittering starlight. I sat at my vanity, waiting for Ethan to come home and pick me up. Time ticked by until only one hour remained before the gala started. Only then did Ethan's call finally come. "Natalie, you don't need to go to the gala tonight." On the other end, Ethan's voice was calm without a ripple. My grip on the phone tightened sharply. "Why?" "Aria just got back to the country and needs to reintegrate into this circle. Tonight's gala is a good opportunity. I'm taking her." Ethan said matter-of-factly. "You never liked these social obligations anyway. Stay home and rest." My heart felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer, the pain making my vision go black. "Ethan, I'm your legal wife." My voice trembled slightly as I struggled to maintain my last shred of dignity. "You're taking your ex-girlfriend to this kind of public event. What does that make me look like? What do you take me for?" "It's just walking a red carpet. Don't be so sensitive." Ethan's tone carried a trace of impatience. "Aria's very fragile right now. She needs my support. Be reasonable and don't make this difficult for me." With that, he hung up without hesitation. Listening to the busy signal on the phone, I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed to the nines, and suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Be reasonable. These three years, I'd been too reasonable. That's why he thought I was an object he could knead at will and discard at any time. At eight PM, the gala officially began. I sat on the living room sofa and turned on the television. On screen, they were broadcasting the red carpet segment live. When Ethan's car stopped at the red carpet entrance, the scene's camera flashes blazed like daylight. The car door opened. Ethan stepped out first, then gentlemanly extended his hand. A slender, pale hand placed itself in his palm. Aria Sinclair wore a pure white haute couture gown, looking like a proud white swan as she took Ethan's arm and gracefully walked up the red carpet. They looked so well-matched. The reporters at the scene instantly erupted. "Mr. Foster, is this beautiful lady your new companion?" "Mr. Foster, there are rumors you've rekindled your romance with your first love, Aria Sinclair. Is it true?" "Mr. Foster, why didn't your wife Natalie attend tonight? Is there a crisis in your marriage?" Facing the reporters' rapid-fire questions, Ethan neither denied nor explained. He simply turned his head slightly to look at Aria beside him, the corner of his mouth curving into an indulgent smile, then escorted her into the venue under the bodyguards' protection. That one look said more than a thousand words. My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Aria Sinclair. In the photo, Aria leaned on Ethan's shoulder. They both held champagne glasses against the backdrop of the gala's luxurious interior. The caption was just one short line. "Miss Sullivan, I've taken back what belongs to me." I didn't reply or angrily smash my phone. I simply pressed the lock button calmly and tossed the phone aside. When all expectations have been crushed into mud, all that remains is absolute clarity. I stood up, returned to the bedroom, and pulled out the suitcase from under the bed. It was time to end this absurd farce.
Natalie's POV I was nearly finished packing when I received a call from my professor. "Natalie, the senior simultaneous interpretation position at UN headquarters in Geneva. They're very impressed with your credentials. If you're willing, you can fly over next week to sign the contract and start. This has always been your dream. What do you think?" I looked at the empty wardrobe, utterly resolute. "I'm willing to go. Please help me reply to them that I'll report on time next week." After hanging up, a long-lost sense of relief surged through me. These three years, I'd given up too much to be a good Mrs. Foster. Now I was going to reclaim Natalie Sullivan's life, piece by piece. The next afternoon, I was organizing an extremely important rare German manuscript on the living room table. This was a unique copy I'd spent half a year restoring and translating for an old professor. I had to submit it tomorrow. In the time it took me to get water from the kitchen, a sudden "crash" came from the living room. My heart lurched as I rushed back. Aria stood by the coffee table, holding an empty coffee cup. And that precious German manuscript was now soaking in a pool of dark brown coffee, the text rapidly bleeding and blurring. Completely ruined. "Oops, I'm so sorry." Aria covered her mouth, but her face showed no trace of remorse. Instead, it carried a provocative sneer. "I thought this was just a pile of waste paper. My hand slipped and the coffee spilled. Miss Sullivan won't mind, will you?" Looking at my destroyed work, blood rushed to my head. I walked forward and raised my hand. "Crack!" I slapped Aria hard across the face. I used all my strength in that slap. Aria's head snapped to the side, five clear finger marks instantly appearing on her pale face. "How dare you hit me?!" Aria clutched her face and screamed. Just then, the front door opened and Ethan strode in. Seeing the scene before him, his expression instantly darkened to the extreme. "Natalie, what are you doing?!" Ethan quickly stepped forward, pulling Aria protectively behind him and shoving me hard. He hadn't used much force, but I felt that shove push me straight into an abyss. I staggered back two steps, my waist hitting the hard edge of the coffee table. I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain. But I didn't cry out. I just stared fixedly at Ethan. "Ethan, I just accidentally dirtied a few pieces of her waste paper, and she hit me..." Aria hid behind Ethan, tears streaming down her face. Ethan looked at the manuscript on the floor, his brow furrowed, then turned to glare at me furiously. "Natalie, have you lost your mind? It's just a few pieces of scrap paper. If they're ruined, they're ruined. How dare you hit someone?" Scrap paper? I laughed bitterly. That was half a year of my heart's blood, an invaluable academic treasure. To him, it was just scrap paper. He'd never respected my profession, never respected my soul. All he wanted was an obedient shell with Aria's shadow. "Ethan, that was half a year of my work." I said. "She deliberately destroyed it. One slap is what she deserves." "Enough!" Ethan cut me off sharply. "How much could a translation manuscript be worth? A hundred thousand? A million? I'll compensate your client! Now apologize to Aria immediately!" Using money to measure my heart's blood, using authority to force me to bow my head. Looking at this unreasonable man before me, I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. I straightened my spine. "I will never apologize to her. Ethan Foster, you disgust me." With that, I walked past them and went straight upstairs, never looking back once.
Natalie's POV After that argument, the villa fell into a deathly cold war. I completely treated Ethan as air. I no longer prepared his breakfast, no longer asked about his schedule. Even when we passed each other in the hallway, I would look away, as if he were just a transparent stranger. For three years, I'd been completely obedient to him, loved him to my bones. As long as he gave me the cold shoulder even slightly, sooner or later I couldn't stand it and would run to him to apologize. He had absolute confidence and arrogance. However, three days passed, five days passed. I still ignored him. That evening, Ethan came home unusually early. He carried an exquisite velvet gift box containing a pink diamond necklace worth tens of millions. It was a piece of jewelry I'd glanced at twice in an auction catalog last month. He probably still naively thought that as long as he produced this, I would tear up with emotion like before and throw myself into his arms. He pushed open the bedroom door. I was sitting by the window reading. "Still angry?" Ethan walked over and placed the gift box on the table in front of me, his tone carrying a kind of condescending tenderness. "See if you like it. You looked at it twice last time, so I had someone bid on it specially. Forget about the manuscript incident. Don't quarrel with Aria anymore. Consider this necklace your compensation." I set down my book and looked at that dazzling pink diamond necklace. If this were before, I might have felt touched. But now, I only felt sad. A slap and a sweet treat. He really did see me as a dog. "Thank you." I didn't refuse or show delight. I simply closed the gift box calmly and pushed it aside. Ethan looked at my face, his brow furrowing slightly. "Just 'thank you'? Natalie, I've already given you a way out. Don't push your luck." "I accepted it. What more do you want?" I raised my head. Ethan snorted coldly. "Good that you accepted it. Clear your schedule tomorrow night and come have dinner with me." With that, he turned and left the bedroom. He thought he'd successfully placated me, not knowing that I'd only accepted the necklace to avoid any more pointless arguments with him. The next morning, I went to a law firm. "Miss Sullivan, are you certain you want to give up all marital property and leave with nothing?" The lawyer looked at the drafted divorce agreement and couldn't help confirming again. "Given Mr. Foster's net worth, you could easily claim a very substantial settlement." "I'm certain." I picked up the pen and signed my name on the agreement without hesitation. I didn't want a single cent. Ethan's money made me feel dirty. I just wanted to leave cleanly and sever all ties with him. Walking out of the law office with the signed divorce agreement, I looked up at the sky. The sunlight was blinding, but it dispersed the gloom that had accumulated in my heart for three years. Tomorrow was my birthday. It was also the day I would leave this place. Ethan Foster, what we had is finally ending.
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