The mission succeeded: I’d captured the villain’s heart. But victory came at a cost—I was torn from his world at the peak of our triumph. Damian Blackwood, the man I’d broken and rebuilt, coughed up blood, clutching me as if to fuse me into his soul. “Cara, trust me,” he rasped desperately, “I’ll find you. I’ll wait for you to come home.” After I left, grief hollowed me. I spiraled into depression, turned to self-harm, and was committed to a psychiatric hospital. Three years later, the System took pity and sent me back to Damian. I rushed through the night, eager to surprise him—only to overhear him talking to a friend. “Congrats on settling down with that look-alike!” Damian laughed coldly. “Congrats? She’s a gold digger who plays hard to get. But she has her price.” A smirk betrayed him. “Gotta go, my substitute has a curfew. She’ll lock me out if I’m late.” He added, “And call off the search for Cara. If the new girl finds out, she’ll freeze me out for a month.” I stood frozen. The man I’d suffered three years for, through despair and electroshock therapy, clinging to his memory even when I forgot my own name—was gone in that shattering moment. And I finally let go. ... My hand found the cold brick wall, my body trembling so violently I could barely stand. System, take me back, I pleaded silently. I don't want to be here anymore. The System had heard it too. Its usually cold, electronic voice was laced with something like pity. Three days. Fine. Just three days. I stumbled back to the tiny, rundown apartment that had once been my home, needing a place to collapse. But when I pushed open the door, it wasn't my world inside. It was another universe entirely. My cramped 400-square-foot studio had been blown out, merged with the neighboring units to create a sprawling, multi-level penthouse. It was luxurious, dazzling, and utterly alien. Our simple wooden bed frame was gone, replaced by a monstrous European-style king. The cozy sofa I’d spent weeks picking out had vanished. And there, pressing a woman against an imported marble dining table, was Damian. He was kissing her deeply when he saw me. He froze. Instinctively, he pulled his collar up to hide a fresh bite mark on his neck. His eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto mine in a daze. "Cara," he breathed. "You're finally back..." I sidestepped his attempt to embrace me. A few feet away, the woman—Zoe—was wiping her mouth with a look of disgust. Her eyes met mine, and she paused, a slow, cold smile spreading across her lips. "So it's true. Everyone says I'm your spitting image." She pushed herself off the table. "Well, Mr. Blackwood, now that your ghost is back in the flesh, I assume I'm free to go." Damian, still stunned by my rejection, shot her a panicked look. A wave of guilt washed over his face. "What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped, then turned his frantic gaze back to me. "Cara, don't misunderstand. It's not what you think..." His explanation was pathetic, empty. I laughed, a hollow sound. I unclasped the thin silver bracelet from my wrist and, walking over to Zoe, fastened it around hers. "It suits you," I said softly. "A welcome gift." It was the bracelet he'd given me. The one that sealed our promise. The panic on Damian's face intensified. "Cara... are you leaving me? Don't you want me anymore? I swear, with her, it's—" Zoe was staring at the bracelet, lost in thought, when Damian lunged for it. "What are you looking at?" he roared. "You're not worthy of wearing that!" But Zoe was quick. She dodged his hand, a defiant spark in her eyes. It was unclear who she was trying to provoke. "Thank you for the gift, Cara," she said with a saccharine smile. "I love it." Damian's jaw clenched. He looked like he was about to verbally tear her apart, but as his eyes landed on her bright, challenging smile, he faltered. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a flicker of something else. He swallowed his rebuke and turned back to me, desperate. "Cara, I'll buy you another one tomorrow! An identical one!" Identical. Did he think a perfect copy could fool his heart into believing it was the original? Was it the same for people as it was for bracelets? I smiled. "A gift is a gift. I'm not a fan of playing with substitutes." Damian froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. Zoe yawned and disappeared into one of the bedrooms. The silence between Damian and me stretched, thick and heavy. He finally opened his mouth to speak. "Cara... about her and me..." Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted from Zoe's room. Damian didn't hesitate. He forgot I was even there, sprinting towards the sound. Zoe was covered in angry red welts, her breathing ragged and shallow. She pointed a trembling finger at the bracelet, which had fallen to the floor. "...It... it..." A wave of fierce protectiveness washed over Damian’s face. He snatched the bracelet from the floor, and his expression instantly darkened into pure fury. He stormed back to me, his hand clamping around my wrist like a vice, all restraint gone. "What did you do to it?" he snarled. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot up my arm. Tears welled in my eyes. The wrist he was crushing was a roadmap of my despair. It was covered in deep, jagged scars from the days when the only way to feel something other than the agony of his absence was to feel pain. He seemed oblivious to the scarred, uneven skin beneath his fingers, his grip tightening with every word. "Why would you hurt her? Cara! You've changed!" Laughter bubbled up from my chest, wild and hysterical. A tribute to the three years I had bled for him. The searing pain in my wrist felt like a punchline. Look at that. The proof of my devotion had become the weapon he used against me. How pathetic. I don't know how long passed before Damian was bundling Zoe into an ambulance. He shot a cold command to the housekeeper over his shoulder. "Watch the door. From now on, Cara is not to set foot in this place again." He seemed to have forgotten. This was my home first. Before I returned, I'd spent days lost in fantasy, imagining a desperate, passionate reunion where we'd erase three years of heartache. I hadn't even been back for a single day, and I was already being thrown out. the System chimed in. Of course it was. When Damian gave it to me, we had nothing. It was all we could afford. He had tended to Zoe like a prize flower, nurturing her until she was too fragile for my world. It wasn't Zoe's fault. But the injustice of it all burned like acid in my throat. I pulled out my old phone, the one I hadn't touched in three years, and sent him the text that was long overdue. "We're done." Five minutes later, my phone exploded with calls from him. I just turned it off. I ended up at a bar, downing shot after shot of whiskey. A loud, cheerful voice cut through the haze. "Hey, there you are! What a surprise! The wedding's just around the corner, can't believe Damian would let you out to a place like this!" I looked up. The man's eyes widened when he got a good look at my face. "...Oh. It's Cara. You're back?" He'd mistaken me for Zoe. I didn't say a word, but he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a private room. The moment we entered, the chatter died. Everyone stared. "Cara! You're back! Does Damian know? Man, after you left, he completely fell apart. He was in the ICU for six months!" "Seriously! He was a wreck. I barely recognized him. It's a good thing you're back!" Someone must have called him, because five minutes later, the screech of tires echoed from the street below. Damian burst in, his eyes wild and red. "Cara, please don't do this. Don't break up with me. I swear, she's just a substitute for you..." "She was drunk," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "She came onto me for money. I was in so much pain after losing you... that's the only reason I kept her around..." The others chimed in, a chorus of condemnation. "He's right, Cara. You're the one who heartlessly stayed away for three years. If it wasn't for... for Zoe, Damian wouldn't even be alive today!" "Come on, be the bigger person! Just let it go! You're not really going to throw him away over this, are you?" They all pointed their fingers at me, as if I were the villain. But what about my pain? Did they know I'd carved my own body until there was barely an inch of smooth skin left? That during the worst of my depressive episodes, I'd clenched my jaw so hard I nearly shattered my teeth? Did they think my friends hadn't tried to find me a replacement for him? I remembered crying until I thought my eyes would bleed, shaking my head frantically. "Damian is Damian," I'd whispered. "No one can ever replace him." The crowd slowly filtered out, leaving Damian and me alone in the suffocating silence. I turned to leave, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. He caught me in the hallway, wrapping his arms around me in a crushing embrace. He sounded like a lost little boy. "Cara, please, hit me, scream at me, just... don't leave me," he begged, burying his face in my hair. "I can't lose you again." Just then, a man and a woman stumbled down the corridor. The woman was drunk, leaning heavily on the man for support. Damian glanced over, and his whole body went rigid. His pupils contracted. In a flash, he released me and launched himself at the other man, kicking him to the ground with a guttural roar. He snatched the woman, Zoe, into his own arms. His eyes were blazing red with fury. "Getting bold, are we? Meeting up with your ex-boyfriend behind my back?" I felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu. He’d looked at me with that same expression once—violent, broken, and terrified—when I’d had dinner with a male friend. Zoe kicked at his shins. "Get off me!" she sneered. "Your precious Cara is back. What are you still clinging to me for? Don't tell me you've actually fallen for me." Damian shot a nervous glance at me, then scoffed. "In your dreams. A money-grubbing parasite like you? I'd never fall for you. But what about you? Getting a little jealous, are we? Did you fall for me?" Zoe shoved him away and helped her ex to his feet. "You're not worthy," she spat. Damian's rage boiled over. He grabbed Zoe's arm, yanking her away from the other man. In the struggle, a ring flew from her finger, sailing through an open window and into the dark river below. Zoe froze. Her eyes filled with panic. "Damian! That was my mother's! It's all I have left of her!" Damian stared, his anger vanishing, replaced by shock. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he vaulted over the railing and plunged into the icy water. I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a cold path down my cheek before splashing silently onto the floor. Damian was terrified of water. I had begged and pleaded with him for months, but he refused to even set foot inside a public pool. And yet, for her... Damian, I thought, a bitter ache spreading through my chest. Are you really sure she's just a substitute? Even Zoe looked stunned, staring at the flailing, desperate figure in the river. Half an hour later, he hauled himself back over the railing, shivering, his face pale as death. He held up the ring like a trophy, then tossed it at her with disgust. "Tch. Only someone from the gutter would treasure a cheap piece of junk like this."
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