Chapter 2

Chloe sauntered further into the house, tossing her expensive handbag onto a velvet chair as if she owned the place. She looked me up and down, her expression a mixture of pity and contempt.

"You'll see soon enough," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "The real leading lady is here now. Your part in this little play is over."

I stood my ground, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The grief for my mother was a raw, open wound, and Chloe's words were salt poured directly into it. But I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

Then, he appeared. Ethan walked in, his tall frame filling the doorway. He was as handsome as ever, with dark hair and eyes that could be incredibly warm or chillingly cold. Today, they were not even looking at me. His entire focus was on the woman beside him. And in his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white gardenias, their fragrance flooding the foyer.

The woman, Sarah Chen, stepped into the light. She was beautiful, with a delicate frame and long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She smiled up at Ethan, a picture of grace and adoration. He smiled back, a genuine, gentle smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years. He was a different person with her.

Ethan finally glanced in my direction, his expression hardening as if my very presence was an inconvenience. The warmth vanished, replaced by a familiar indifference.

"Lily," he said, his tone flat and clipped. "Get the guest room next to mine ready. Sarah will be staying with us."

It wasn't a request. It was an order. The guest room next to his. My own bedroom was at the opposite end of the hall. The implication was as clear as it was brutal.

"Of course," I managed to say, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

Sarah Chen turned to me, her eyes crinkling in a smile that didn't quite reach them. "Oh, Lily, it's so nice to finally meet you. Ethan has told me so much about you. Thank you for taking such good care of him." Her voice was sweet, but the words were possessive, a subtle underlining of her place in his life.

I nodded, unable to form a reply. As I looked at her, really looked at her, a horrifying realization washed over me. It started with her eyes, the same almond shape as mine. Then her smile, the way her nose crinkled slightly. The curve of her jaw. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. We weren't identical, but the resemblance was undeniable, shocking. I was a rough sketch, and she was the finished masterpiece.

The "placeholder." Chloe's word echoed in my mind. It all made a sickening kind of sense. The way he sometimes looked at me with a strange, fleeting disappointment. The way he called me by his pet name for her, "Lily-flower," a name that always felt a little off. My name is Lily, but he was seeing a gardenia.

A bitter, hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up from my chest. I swallowed it down, the effort making my throat ache. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and sharp, but I blinked them back. I would not cry in front of them. Instead, a grim, wry smile touched my lips. So this was my life. A five-year-long farce. I was the understudy for a role I never even knew I was playing.

I was a substitute for the woman he truly loved, and he hadn't even bothered to hide it well. I had just been too blind, too desperate for affection, to see it. The truth didn't just hurt, it hollowed me out completely, leaving nothing but a cold, echoing emptiness.