Seven Years Gone: A New Me

Chapter 1

Word Count: 891 | Released on: 10/07/2025

ll. The smell of antiseptic burned my nose, sharp and clean. I tried to open my eyes

, flat and tired. There was a pause. "No, he's not

something I couldn't

some woman named Sophia. Honestly, the drama with this one never

. It was a hospital room. White walls, a single window, a beeping machin

she said, her voice low. "Just tell him his

Mr.

meant not

ed, her expression souring

ne as sterile as the room. "Don't try to get u

I whispered. My thro

ily. We've met. A dozen times, in fact. Usually af

atten

articularly difficult puzzle she didn't want to solve. "Are you go

hand had a simple, elegant wedding band on it.

asked, a cold dread

s 2025, Mrs. Vance. Now stop the

ered was graduating from architecture school.

d," I said, my voice sh

ed myself up with my good arm, my whole body aching. I caught my r

thin, her eyes shadowed with a deep, settled sadness. There were fine lines aro

ked, which was a small miracle. My gallery was filled with photos I didn't recognize.

en when he was smiling for the camera. He was handsome in a way that felt dan

I found a folder labeled "Personal." In

e for marrying him and acting as his wife for public appearances, I would receive a generous settleme

I stil

feeling growing in my stomach. Des

se come ho

ur favori

ust talk

for everything. Just

eplied. Scrolling back further, I fo

You're just a substitu

days ago. Then, a memory

with a sweet smile and cold eyes. Sophia Miller.

ou were just a placeholder un

a sudden, hard shove. The shock of cold water en

ist, at the bruises peeking out from under the

n, this stranger,

e woman who had lived those seven years was gon

Chapter End

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Seven Years Gone: A New Me

Andriana Neden Romance

“The first thing I felt was a dull throb, the smell of antiseptic, and the piercing brightness of a hospital room. A nurse informed me I was Olivia Vance, and my husband, Alexander Vance, wasn't there. Then she mentioned another "accident" and a woman named Sophia, saying, "You'd think a man like him would have better things to do." My nurse, Emily, told me I had a concussion and a fractured wrist, and that she'd seen me a "dozen times" for pulling "stunts to get his attention." I looked down at a wedding band on my left hand – a cruel joke. I was told it was 2025. My last memory was 2018. Seven missing years. And an unfamiliar face stared back from the reflection-thin, tired, broken. My phone, filled with pictures of a cold mansion, smiling strangers, and a dangerous-looking Alexander Vance, confirmed I was married to him. Then I found the contract: an agreement signed in 2020 to be his public wife for five years in exchange for a settlement. The term was up. Scrolling through desperate, one-sided texts to him, I found a chilling message from two days ago: "He will never love you. You're just a substitute. He's with me tonight." A violent memory hit me: a yacht, Sophia Miller's poisonous voice telling me, "He's tired of you, Olivia. You were just a placeholder." Then her hands on my chest, a sudden shove, and the cold water engulfing me. The bruises, the fractured wrist, the aching ribs – all for a stranger I had apparently loved. My past was a living nightmare, but now, with a blank slate, I knew one thing: I was not bringing that broken woman back.”