It is a well-known fact among the Manhattan elite that the Upper East Side princess, Sloane Sterling, loves nothing more than to be absolutely unique. Her biggest taboo is anyone sharing even the slightest resemblance to her. Because a bystander carelessly mentioned, "Hey, that waitress's eyes look a lot like yours," Sloane ordered her bodyguards to gouge out the waitress's eyes and push her off a yacht, drowning her alive. And just like that, I lost the only family I had in this world. Later, I became Sloane Sterling's body double. I wore the replica face she hated most—the face that looked exactly like hers. And I took everything from her. 1 Along with my mother's corpse came a hush-money check for $500,000. I didn't even blink as I signed the non-disclosure and settlement agreements. After officiating her funeral, I didn't waste a second before going on a spending spree. I got extreme plastic surgery. I bought designer clothes. I even enrolled in elite etiquette and arts classes. The neighbors in our run-down apartment building whispered: "Poor Mary. She worked her fingers to the bone raising her daughter, and she raised a cold-blooded sociopath." I let them talk. I didn't care. As time passed, my mother's death faded into background noise. The whispers turned into praise: "Chloe is getting more gorgeous by the day." "Which clinic did she go to? The surgeon is a genius." I just smiled and said nothing. This face was molded perfectly to replicate Manhattan's reigning It-Girl, Sloane Sterling. How could it not be beautiful? 2 A top-tier socialite like Sloane could trend on X just by sneezing. Her toxic, on-and-off romance with Wall Street billionaire heir Carter Harrington was the country's favorite post-dinner gossip. They were childhood sweethearts. Everyone called them a match made in heaven. But the billionaire heir was a playboy. Scandals surrounded him constantly, causing them to break up and get back together on an endless loop. The most recent drama happened when Carter set his sights on a C-list actress. The actress even got pregnant with his child. Paparazzi photos showed them holding hands, looking deeply in love. But not long after, news broke that the actress had "accidentally" fallen from a penthouse balcony. She died on impact. Two lives, gone. Her death didn't cause much of a ripple, though. Because the top trending topics that day were: [The Princess Runs Away] [Carter & Sloane Fight Again!] [Place your bets: How long until they make up?] No one cared about the dead actress. Fans were far more focused on the fact that Carter and Sloane had a massive fight. This time, Sloane posted a dramatic story on Instagram. She claimed she was moving to Europe to "find herself" and wouldn't be returning to the States anytime soon. Some netizens questioned it: "Doesn't Sloane have modeling contracts lined up? Can she really just ditch them?" Her obsessive fans immediately attacked the critics: "Sorry you're broke! When you have that much money, you can do whatever you want." "Other influencers are controlled by capital, but our Queen Sloane is the capital." "She's more famous than you'll ever be. Cry about it." ... Not long after Sloane left for Paris, the internet noticed something. There was a new girl by Carter Harrington's side. And this girl had a face that looked 80% identical to Sloane Sterling's. This time, the internet was strangely calm: "Oh, look. Clone #18 has arrived." Every time Carter and Sloane broke up, a new woman would appear by his side shortly after. And every single one of them shared a resemblance to Sloane. The gossip blogs affectionately called these girls "The Clones." They even gave them serial numbers. To the public, these stand-ins were ultimate proof of Carter's undying love for Sloane. After all... He loved the clones because they looked like her. But she was the original. "Carter is so extra (facepalm)..." "He's too proud to chase her to Paris, so he pulls this stunt every time." "But you gotta admit, Clone #18 looks EXACTLY like Sloane. Where does he even find them?" Of course I looked like her. I clung to Carter's arm, leaning against his chest like a fragile little bird. I had suffered immensely for this face. My mother's eyes were naturally similar to Sloane's. But I didn't just want the eyes. I matched her jawline. I went through agonizing micro-adjustments for my nose and lips. To ensure Carter's background checks wouldn't reveal I intentionally altered my face to approach him, I didn't dare go to legitimate hospitals. I went to underground, black-market clinics. Risking severe infections, disfigurement, or dying on the operating table, I spent three years and triple the money to carve this face out, millimeter by millimeter. It was my entry ticket into his world. How could I not look like her? 3 I quickly got my own dedicated subreddit. [r/HasClone18BeenFiredYet] Of course, this wasn't an exclusive honor. My 17 predecessors all had their own threads, created by bored Carter-Sloane shippers. Carter was a man who got bored easily. The longest a clone had ever lasted was 25 days. The shortest was a mere three days. So, the fans checked the subreddit daily. They kept a log of the new stand-in, placing bets on how long I would last by Carter's side. Most bet I wouldn't make it past a month. A few outliers had higher hopes: "Maybe this one will break the one-month curse? She seriously looks exactly like our Queen." Even so, the absolute maximum prediction was three months. No one expected me to be a survivor. One of me was better than all seventeen combined. One month passed; I was still there. Three months passed; still there. Six months; still there. Ten months passed... Carter Harrington announced our engagement. The internet exploded. 4 Sloane Sterling booked an overnight first-class flight and flew straight back to New York. The night before she landed. Carter held me in his arms, his fingers lazily tracing the contours of my face. "You know what to say and what not to say tomorrow, right?" I nodded obediently, cheerfully said, "I know!", and thoughtfully began picking out the suit he would wear to meet Sloane the next day. When news of our engagement broke, 99% of the internet cursed my name. A tiny fraction guessed the truth: this was just Carter's ultimate tactic to provoke Sloane. Unfortunately for the haters, that tiny fraction was right. Sloane hadn't returned to the States in nearly a year. The billionaire heir lost his patience and orchestrated this entire spectacle. And from the very beginning, I played along perfectly. After all, there was a reason I lasted by Carter's side this long. Besides the face, it was my absolute, unwavering submission. I mean absolute submission. The kind with zero trace of self-respect. Carter liked competitive gaming. I spent hours practicing games I had never heard of, just so I could be his perfect duo partner every night. Carter liked fresh walnuts. I cracked them by hand for him until my fingernails chipped and my fingertips bled. Carter was a borderline alcoholic. To help him break the habit, I matched him drink for drink. My body, which had never touched alcohol before, was forced to down two bottles of neat bourbon. I ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer, nearly dying. After that, Carter rarely touched liquor. He even quit smoking. His frat-boy friends' attitudes toward me completely shifted. At first, they just saw me as Carter's disposable toy. They would tease me and use me for their amusement. But gradually, they couldn't stand it anymore. "Carter, man, Chloe is a really good girl. Stop messing with her head." Faced with their advice, Carter just pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Keep out of my business." One of the rich playboys joked: "Hey Carter, whenever you get bored of her, let me know. I wouldn't mind taking her off your hands." He reached out and sleazily grabbed my waist. Carter's face went dark. He smashed a beer bottle over the guy's head. Then, he pinned down the hand that had touched me and stomped on it until the bones cracked. You see, after all this time, I actually held some weight in Carter's heart. Otherwise, I wouldn't have dared to play a cheesy rom-com on the living room TV in front of him— A show where the male lead fakes an engagement with the side-chick to make the female lead jealous. The female lead crashes the wedding, they confess their love, clear the misunderstanding, and she puts on the dress meant for her. Happily ever after. The billionaire heir was a fast learner. He copied the script flawlessly. Now, the male lead and the side-chick were in position. We were just waiting for the female lead to fly home. The show was about to begin. 5 Sloane returned, and the elite circle threw her a lavish welcome-home party at a VIP club. In the private booth... I sat on Carter's lap, caged in his arms. He knew I hated places like this. He knew I despised PDA. He knew that ever since my stomach ulcer, I couldn't touch a single drop of alcohol. Yet, he forced a full glass of red wine into my hands, demanding I feed it to him mouth-to-mouth in front of everyone. All because sitting directly across from us was Sloane Sterling. I lowered my eyes and did as I was told. Before our lips could even touch, a sharp pain erupted at the back of my head. Sloane grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked me off Carter, and shoved me hard onto the floor. The wine glass shattered. Shards of glass pierced my palms. Blood and red wine bloomed together across my white dress. Carter didn't even glance at me. Instead, the corners of his lips curled up. He looked lazily at Sloane. "Can I help you, Miss Sterling? I'm kissing my fiancé. I don't see how that's any of your business." His tone was dripping with sarcastic provocation. Sloane's eyes instantly went red. "Fine, Carter. You win. I admit I can't let you go. Are you happy now?" Carter's smile deepened. Before he could speak, Sloane continued: "I know you're doing this just to trigger me. But you know I hate nothing more than being compared to others. Why would you use this filthy, low-class trash to provoke me? A stand-in? She's not even worthy of shining my shoes!" With that, she burst into tears and ran out of the club. The guys around us laughed. "Carter, you played too hard. The car flipped." "Better go chase your girl back, man." Carter clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he still stood up and chased after Sloane. The whole room erupted into roaring laughter, like they had just watched a spectacular comedy. Everyone knew Carter was just using me. No one doubted his love for Sloane. And absolutely no one believed he was actually going to marry me. From start to finish, I was nothing but a clown. A disposable prop. Amidst the laughter, I slowly stood up. My face was perfectly calm as I addressed the room: "Excuse me. I'll be taking my leave." The laughter died down a bit. They seemed to just remember I was still in the room. I didn't bother looking at their reactions. I turned and left without looking back. 6 Leaving the club, I went straight to a cheap, run-down motel. I stayed there for three days. For three days, I mostly just slept. I ordered takeout when I woke up. It was incredibly relaxing. On the third day, Carter finally found me. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had a heavy shadow of stubble. He was still wearing the same suit from the club. I appropriately showed a look of shock, then seamlessly transitioned into my usual, gentle smile. "What brings you here? How are things with Miss Sterling? Did you guys talk it out?" Carter ignored all my questions. He stared at me intensely, his eyes like a starving wolf about to devour its prey. "Why didn't you come home for three days?" His voice was hoarse, laced with a dangerous edge. I took a step back, furrowing my brows slightly. "Miss Sterling is back. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to stay at the penthouse anymore." Carter froze, his irritation spiking. "What the fuck does that mean?" I continued, polite and obedient: "Don't worry, I won't cling to you. I'll go pack up my things from the villa in a few days. I'll make sure it's completely spotless so Miss Sterling doesn't have to look at anything that upsets her." Carter stared at me, looking absolutely in disbelief. "Chloe. Are you saying you want to break up with me?" Faced with his question, I frowned deeply and spoke slowly: "Miss Sterling is back. Shouldn't we break up?" "Don't even think about it!" Carter snapped. He stepped forward instinctively, his hand clamping down on my wrist like a vice. His grip was so brutal I thought my bones would shatter. I gasped in pain. Carter didn't loosen his grip at all. Instead, he yanked me violently into his chest. He looked down at me, his eyes burning red: "I didn't say we're breaking up. Who gave you the right to make that decision?" Even a clay doll has a breaking point. Push a rabbit too far, and it bites. My eyes filled with tears. I looked up at him: "You two are getting back together! Why should I stay? To be the mistress in your relationship? Carter, I haven't degraded myself to that level yet." Carter paused. Clearly, he had never considered what to do with me once Sloane returned. But his inherent arrogance quickly provided an answer. "So what if you're the mistress? Do you think I can't afford to keep you? Just stay by my side and be good. I won't treat you badly." SLAP— I backhanded him across the face with everything I had. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I looked at him in total disbelief. "Carter, you bastard! Is that all I am to you? Some cheap whore?" I stared at him stubbornly. "Do you think I'll die if I leave you? Do you think I have no dignity, no feelings?! What gives you the right to humiliate me like this? Let me tell you something. Everything I did for you, I did because I fell in love with you. Because you were in my heart! I did it all willingly. Not because I'm some pathetic lapdog with no boundaries. You rejected me a thousand times, and I still had the courage to walk toward you. But since you've found your true love, my pride won't let me take another step forward. Carter, we shouldn't see each other anymore. For you, for me, and for Miss Sterling, it's..." Before I could finish, his massive frame pressed me against the wall. His face was terrifyingly dark. Ignoring my struggles, he pulled off his silk tie and ruthlessly bound my wrists together. "Chloe—" It was a term of endearment, but his voice was absolute zero. "I've spoiled you too much. I let you get so bold you think you can defy me. It looks like I need to teach you a lesson." ... 7 I was placed under house arrest. Carter watched me like a hawk, barely leaving my side. For an entire month, he treated me with a tenderness he had never shown before. Limitless haute couture and luxury goods flowed into the penthouse like water. Mansions and sports cars were transferred into my name without him batting an eye. He dropped his arrogant billionaire persona and started coddling me, caring for my every need. "Chloe, think about it. If you leave me, could you ever live a life this good?" ... He didn't suddenly learn to respect me. He just wanted to use a gilded cage to trap me, hoping I'd willingly become his nameless, hidden canary. I looked at him coldly, refusing to yield an inch. "Is this fun for you, Carter? Planning a wedding with Sloane on one side, and refusing to let me go on the other?" That's right. Carter and Sloane were officially getting married. The internet shippers were throwing digital parades. As for me, the "ex-fiancé," I was naturally cyberbullied into oblivion. "Carter, let me go. I—mmph!" He had clearly decided to marry Sloane. But every time I mentioned leaving, Carter would violently rip off his gentle facade and expose his brutal nature. He would ruthlessly bite my lips, not caring if they bled, just to swallow all the words I was trying to say. "Chloe, do not test my patience." His eyes were ice cold. I met him with stubborn silence. But inside, I was laughing. I laughed because Carter couldn't understand me, and he couldn't understand himself. He hadn't even realized it. These past few weeks, he had spent vastly more time with me than he had with Sloane. He even used "work" as an excuse to skip the most important event: wedding dress shopping with her. In reality, on the day he told Sloane he was busy, my period had "coincidentally" arrived early. Carter stayed with me all day. He bought me painkillers, brewed me ginger tea, and used his large, warm hands to soothe my cramps. It wasn't until he finally coaxed me to sleep that he found the time to call Sloane. When he said the words "I'm busy" over the phone, I let out a soft, sleepy whimper beside him. I know Sloane heard it. With her ego, how could she possibly sit still? If before, she only hated my face because it mocked hers, in that moment, she must have realized I was completely different from all the "Clones" before me. This was the very first time Carter Harrington lied and brushed her off for another woman. And he did it on the day she was trying on her wedding dress. I knew she was feeling an unprecedented level of panic. And she absolutely wouldn't take it lying down.
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