The Substitute Wife's Sweet Escape

The Substitute Wife's Sweet Escape

Yi Ye

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For three years, I was a substitute for my twin sister, married to the powerful Donovan Blackwood. It was a contract. My payment for enduring his coldness was fifty million dollars and my freedom. But my husband had a woman he truly loved, Chloe Sanders. At her request, he pushed me into the freezing ocean. When we both fell from a yacht, he screamed for the rescuers to save her first, leaving me to drown. He even traded me to a torturer to get her back. Through it all, I endured. Not for love, but for the money. He mistook my silence for devotion, my endurance for love. He never realized that every cruel act didn't break my heart, it just ticked down the clock on my sentence. Now, the contract is over. The fifty million dollars is in my account. I left the wedding ring on his pillow and walked away without a backward glance. I thought it was the end. But I underestimated his obsession. He's just now realizing the truth, and he's coming for me. He thinks he can apologize. He thinks he can get me back.

Chapter 1 Chapter 1

For three years, I was a substitute for my twin sister, married to the powerful Donovan Blackwood. It was a contract. My payment for enduring his coldness was fifty million dollars and my freedom.

But my husband had a woman he truly loved, Chloe Sanders.

At her request, he pushed me into the freezing ocean.

When we both fell from a yacht, he screamed for the rescuers to save her first, leaving me to drown.

He even traded me to a torturer to get her back.

Through it all, I endured. Not for love, but for the money. He mistook my silence for devotion, my endurance for love.

He never realized that every cruel act didn't break my heart, it just ticked down the clock on my sentence.

Now, the contract is over. The fifty million dollars is in my account.

I left the wedding ring on his pillow and walked away without a backward glance.

I thought it was the end. But I underestimated his obsession. He's just now realizing the truth, and he's coming for me. He thinks he can apologize. He thinks he can get me back.

Chapter 1

The phone rang, a shrill sound in the quiet library of the Blackwood mansion. It was my mother. Her voice was thin and tight over the line.

"Ava, it's almost time. The three years are up tomorrow."

I closed the heavy book in front of me, the scent of old paper and leather filling my lungs. Three years. It felt like a lifetime.

"The trust fund is ready," she continued, her voice gaining a greedy edge. "Fifty million dollars. Once the contract is officially terminated, it's all yours. You'll finally be free."

Free. The word echoed in the vast, empty room. It was the only thing that had kept me going.

"I know," I said. My voice was calm, a still lake on a windless day. There was nothing left inside me to stir.

My gaze fell on the wedding band on my finger. It was a cold, heavy circle of platinum, studded with diamonds I never looked at too closely. It wasn't mine. Nothing in this house was. Not the name, not the life, and certainly not the man who was legally my husband.

I was a ghost. A substitute.

Three years ago, my twin sister, Isabella, was supposed to marry Donovan Blackwood. It was a merger of families, a deal sealed with a wedding vow. But Isabella, who always craved a different kind of freedom, ran away the night before the wedding.

My family was thrown into chaos. The Millers couldn't afford to lose the Blackwood alliance. So they came to me.

"You have to do it, Ava," my father had said, his face pale with panic. "You look exactly like her. No one will know."

"It's only for three years," my mother had added, her eyes avoiding mine. "There's a trust fund attached to the contract. Fifty million dollars. It becomes yours when the three years are up. Think of it, Ava. Your own money. Complete independence."

My grandfather, the patriarch of the family, gave me the final warning. "Don't get any ideas, girl. This is a job. Donovan Blackwood is not a man to be trifled with. He had a woman he loved, Chloe Sanders. Our deal forced them apart. He will never love you. He will probably hate you. Just do your part, play the role of Isabella, and get out with the money."

He was right. Donovan didn't just ignore me; he treated me like a stain on his perfect world. My life in the Blackwood mansion was a study in silence and invisibility. I lived in a separate wing. We ate at opposite ends of a comically long dining table, if we ate together at all. I was Mrs. Blackwood on paper, but in reality, I was just the placeholder.

I had tried, in the beginning. I learned his favorite foods, the way he liked his coffee, the precise temperature he preferred for his study. I thought if I could just be useful, maybe the coldness in his eyes would thaw.

For a brief period, it seemed to work. He started acknowledging my presence with a nod. Once, he even said, "Thank you," when I brought him a file he'd forgotten. A tiny flicker of hope ignited within me. Maybe, just maybe, this could be more than a transaction.

Then Chloe Sanders came back.

She returned to the city, a damsel in distress, and all of Donovan's attention, which was barely on me to begin with, snapped back to her. My existence was erased once more. The fragile peace shattered, and we were back to square one.

But it didn't hurt. Not really. Because I had a secret that kept me safe, a shield around my heart. I never loved him. Not for a single second.

All of this-the silent meals, the public smiles, the lonely nights-it was all just a job. A long, difficult, soul-crushing job with a fifty-million-dollar payday. That money was my real goal. It was my escape from a childhood where I was always second best, the shadow to Isabella's sun. The quiet one, the plain one, the one they never noticed unless they needed something. That money meant I would never have to depend on anyone ever again.

The memory of the rain lashing against the windows was vivid. It was a year ago, a storm raging outside, mirroring the one that was always brewing inside this house. My phone had rung. It was Donovan.

"Chloe is sick. She has a fever and needs her prescription. The pharmacy is about to close. Go get it and take it to her." His voice was a whip crack, sharp and unforgiving.

I didn't argue. I just put on a coat, took the keys to one of the lesser cars in the garage, and drove into the storm. The wind and rain were so violent I could barely see the road. I got the medicine and drove to Chloe's penthouse.

The door was unlocked. I was about to go in when I heard voices from the living room. Donovan was there, along with one of his friends.

"You're really going to keep that woman in your house?" his friend asked. "After everything? Chloe is right here. Why don't you just end it?"

Donovan's reply was a shard of ice. "The contract is almost up. It's complicated. But make no mistake, if I had to choose between her and Chloe, if one of them was drowning, I'd save Chloe. Every single time."

I stood there, soaked to the bone, the rain dripping from my hair onto the plush carpet. The medicine bag in my hand felt impossibly heavy.

I walked into the room. Their conversation stopped. Donovan looked at me, my drenched and pathetic state. For a fleeting moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes-was it surprise? Concern?

It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"You took long enough," he said, his voice cold again.

I handed him the bag. "Give this to Miss Sanders," he ordered, not even looking at me. I walked over to the couch where Chloe lay, looking pale and fragile, and placed the bag on the table.

I returned to the mansion, stripped off my wet clothes, and stood under a hot shower, trying to wash away the chill. But it wasn't the rain that had frozen me. It was the clarity.

Donovan walked into my room later that night, his face a mask of fury. He smelled of whiskey and Chloe's perfume.

"What did you say to her?" he snarled, grabbing my arm.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me! She's hysterical. She said you threatened her!"

He pushed me. Hard. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the edge of the rug. I fell, my head hitting the corner of the staircase with a sickening crack. Pain exploded behind my eyes.

"You pushed me," I whispered, tasting blood.

"You probably deserved it," he spat, looming over me. "Don't you ever forget what this is, Ava. Or Isabella, or whoever the hell you are. This is a contract. A business deal. It has nothing to do with feelings, especially not yours."

As darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, one thought remained crystal clear. He was right. It was just a contract. And tomorrow, it would be over. I had never wanted his love. I had only ever wanted to be free of him.

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