When Vivienne Carter married Sebastian Cross at twenty-two, everyone said how lucky she was.

He was ten years older, a mafia Don with terrifying power in his hands, and yet for three years he doted on her alone.

He indulged her in everything, kept her sheltered under his wing, tender and attentive down to the smallest detail.

Only in the dead of night did he turn possessive and overpowering, taking without limit, never once relenting even when she begged him through tears.

She had always been certain she was the one thing he loved.

Then her father died without warning. Drowning in grief, she called him ninety-nine times, and every call was cut off.

In an instant, a single photo shattered every illusion she had.

On a Paris street softened by dusk, the man she'd loved for three years was bending to hold another woman.

That woman, gentle-featured and faintly resembling her, was her cousin.

On the day of my father's funeral, my husband, Sebastian, never came after all.

Night fell, and Sebastian came home.

He saw how pale and worn my face was and reached out to comfort me. I turned my head away.

"This is my fault, baby. Something came up in Paris and I had to deal with it. Whatever you want, I'll make it up to you, okay?"

After a long silence, I lifted my hand and slid two neatly folded documents across to him. "Sign them."

Sebastian looked relieved. Without so much as glancing at what they were, he picked up a pen and signed his name.

As far as he was concerned, anything I wanted, whatever it was, he'd agree to without hesitation.

"Anything you and the baby need, I'll give you, sweetheart."

I'd just opened my mouth to say something when his phone cut sharply through the quiet.

The name flashing on the screen was the one he kept pinned at the top and never let me see. Serena.

Serena, my cousin.

He ended the call and gave an awkward little laugh, then pressed a light kiss to my forehead. "There's a deal I have to close. I've got to go make money for our baby. I'll spend real time with you next time, all right?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed his coat and turned to go, hurried, without a trace of reluctance.

The house sank into dead silence, the empty space pressing down until it was hard to breathe.

I sank slowly back onto the couch.

Countless images flooded in without warning, every small piece of the last three years.

Sebastian had treated me well, so well that every woman in the city envied me.

I slept badly, so for three years he held me on his side every night and pulled the blanket over me, never once letting it slip.

Whenever we fought, right or wrong, he was always the first to soothe me and the first to apologize. He would swallow his own feelings rather than let me feel slighted, and he never touched work until I had cooled down.

Once, in the middle of the night, I wanted to see the rain-soaked streets, and he simply ordered the whole road cleared. Every car was banned, and an entire busy avenue opened quietly for me alone.

Back then I drowned in that kind of devotion, endlessly grateful, sure I was the luckiest woman alive.

I naively believed that was love, that year after year of safety lay ahead.

But the day my father died, ninety-nine unanswered calls and one photo of an embrace on a Paris street broke the beautiful three-year illusion to pieces.

After hesitating a long time, I rose from the cold floor and walked to the deepest part of the house, to the hidden basement Sebastian had never let me set foot in.

The moment the heavy iron door swung open, a biting cold rushed at me, and the blood in my veins went still.

The entire basement was packed full, every inch of it a trace of Serena.

Her portraits covered the walls. The shelves held neat rows of candid shots of her, photos from her awkward school years, even doodles she had scribbled without thinking. On the vanity sat the perfume and jewelry she always wore, each piece wiped spotless, each one carefully kept.

So every bit of tenderness, every indulgence, every favor he had shown me had never been because I was Vivienne.

It was only because I had a face that looked so much like Serena's.

The cold swept through me and my heart ached in a thousand tiny places, yet I could not squeeze out a single tear.

It did not matter.

He had lied to me for three whole years, but this time he was not going to win.

I picked up the phone and called immigration to start the paperwork. Sebastian, let us never see each other again.

I bent to pick up the two signed documents from the table, my fingertips brushing over his sharp handwriting.

The first was the divorce agreement.

The second was the abortion consent form.

Inside me was a child not yet two months along, one I had once pinned all my hopes on, believing this bond could tether his tenderness to me.

Now I saw the child was nothing but the most ridiculous accessory to this absurd deception.

Sebastian, cling to the obsession you will never have for the rest of your life.

I hoped you would spend every year in regret, and never once feel whole.

When Sebastian came home, I was sorting through all my clothes and jewelry.

He probably assumed I was just in a bad mood and wanted new things to lift my spirits. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his palms warm, his voice soft with indulgence. "There's an auction in a few days. I'll take you to pick out new pieces, and I'll stay close and make it up to you."

I said nothing, letting him hold me, too tired even to offer a polite smile.

His gaze drifted to my waist and stopped.

He seemed to notice that the slight swell of my belly from the week before was flat again.

He was about to ask when his phone rang.

It was my uncle.

The gentle voice on the other end asked if I wanted to come by for a gathering. Serena was back from abroad.

Serena, my cousin.

Before I could react, Sebastian had already accepted for us.

He had completely forgotten that my father had been buried only days ago, that I was still sunk in the grief of losing him. He spared me not an ounce of thought, not a shred of consideration.

He hung up, let go of me, and turned to open the safe, taking out a box of lavish custom jewelry. He pressed the heavy gift box into my hands.

"You two haven't seen each other in ages. Here's a gift. Pass it along to Serena from me, to welcome her home."

I looked down at the box and nodded, as compliant as some outsider who did not matter.

Dinner was held at my uncle's house.

The room was full of family and friends, loud with laughter.

I looked at the beef and lamb in my bowl and did not touch a bite.

Since getting pregnant I had suffered terrible morning sickness. The sight of meat turned my stomach, and Sebastian had eaten vegetarian alongside me for two months.

But today he did not think of it at all, pushing every delicate vegetarian dish on the table toward Serena.

When dinner ended, we stayed at the old mansion together.

Late in the night, the warmth beside me quietly vanished.

I had expected it. I got up and pushed the bedroom door open.

Sebastian's voice carried a seriousness and an obsession he had never shown me. "All these years, there has only ever been you. Vivienne was a stand-in from the very start. Stay this time, for my sake, won't you?"

Serena's voice held a note of dismay and helplessness. "Are you out of your mind? She's carrying your child. How can you treat her like this?"

"I'm perfectly clear-headed."

His tone was certain, fully arrogant. "She loves me too much. No matter what happens, she'll never leave me."

At those words, I let out a quiet laugh.

I raised my hand and brushed it lightly over my flat stomach.

“Sebastian, you really do not know me at all.”

“You think I will stay trapped in this fake love, clinging to it on my knees.”

“But you do not know that I let go a long time ago. Not the child, not you.”

“The woman you were so sure would never leave had already planned her clean exit.”

That night, he never came back to the room.

In the faint light of early morning, I slipped without a sound out of the house that had trapped three years of my honest heart, and went to file my immigration papers.

The next day at noon, a friend I had not seen in a while asked me to lunch. We sat across from each other, talking softly, and I tried to ease the gloom that had built up inside me.

But fate insisted on grinding away the last scrap of my dignity.

When I looked up, I suddenly saw two familiar figures.

Sebastian walked in front, tall and refined, his suit immaculate. Beside him, shoulder to shoulder, was Serena.

The instant our eyes met, Sebastian stopped short, surprise and a flicker of panic churning in his gaze.

Almost at once he came toward me, his words rushed, deliberately covering and explaining. "Vivienne, listen to me. I was at the office all morning. I just ran into Serena over lunch, that's all. We only happened to eat together."

Every line was forced, every word guilty.

Before I could speak, Serena gave a gentle little smile. "Vivienne, what a coincidence. If you don't mind, why don't you and your friend join us? It's livelier with more people."

With the moment at an impasse and no way to refuse, I gave a faint nod and moved with my friend to their table.

Before long a server came over carrying a tureen of scalding soup.

Just as the dish was about to touch the table, Serena rose, saying she was going to the restroom.

She swayed slightly, and her arm knocked against the server's wrist.

The boiling soup spilled out all at once.

It held nothing back. Half of it splashed across the back of Serena's hand, and the other half came down hard on my forearm and shoulder.

The searing pain shot through my skin at once, spreading in a raw, prickling wave. The fabric stuck to the burn, and the ache left my fingertips trembling.

But in the next instant, every bit of Sebastian's attention, all of his alarm, landed on Serena.

"Are you all right? Is it bad? Don't be scared, I'll get you to a hospital right now."

My friend froze, stunned, then quickly pulled out napkins to wipe the soup away, aching for me.

I looked down at the wide, red, burning wound on my arm and shook my head. The pain inside me had long since drowned out the pain of the burn.

So favoritism really could go that far.

Even though I was just as badly hurt, even though I was his lawful wife, in his eyes the smallest scratch on Serena was worth losing his composure over, while I could be covered in wounds and never deserve a single shred of care.

I bore the pain alone, and with my friend beside me went to the same hospital to have the wound treated.

After a careful examination the doctor frowned and said plainly that the burn was large and deep, that the skin was badly damaged, and that it needed dressing and rest to heal.

It was then that Sebastian, having seen to Serena's hand, finally showed up.

He must have caught the doctor's account and realized I was the more seriously hurt, because a faint trace of guilt finally crossed his face.

He came to my bedside. "Doctor, please take extra care. She's pregnant, so be cautious with any medication or treatment."

The moment he said it, the doctor was about to ask about the pregnancy and explain my condition.

My chest tightened. I reached out at once and lightly pressed the doctor's arm, shaking my head faintly to stop the rest of his words.

Once the wound was treated, I leaned back against the headboard and fell into a heavy sleep.

At midnight, the ward was utterly silent.

I woke with a start from a shallow sleep. The dark around me was still, and from the next room came low, hushed voices that drifted clearly into my ears.

"Serena, all these years I have never let you go. I was a fool before, a coward, too afraid to face my own heart, so I got by on Vivienne's shadow."

Serena's voice was reluctant and hesitant. "Have you really lost your mind? You have been married to Vivienne for three years. She depends on you, she loves you. How can you just let her go like that?"

"I'm thinking clearly."

Sebastian's voice was unshakable. "I only married her because she looks like you. These three years were a compromise, something to soothe an obsession. If you'll come back, if you'll stay with me, I'll divorce Vivienne right away, cleanly, and give you a real place in my life. For the rest of my days, there will be only you."

"The Don needs an heir. Once she has the child, I'll be with you, Serena."

Every word was sincere, every line final.

So my three-year marriage, my three years of love, had been nothing from beginning to end but the interval in which he waited for the woman he truly wanted to come back.

I sat quietly on the cold hospital bed, the burn on my arm throbbing in waves, though it was not a fraction of the pain in my chest.

I did not cry, and I did not make a scene.

I only lifted the blanket in silence and got out of bed.

The night was deep, the corridor cold and empty. Without a sound I turned and walked back to my own room, burying every absurd, heartless word deep inside me.

I did not sleep at all.

The next morning, just as it grew light, the door of my room was thrown open.

Sebastian rushed in, his face frantic, his eyes bloodshot, his whole body radiating menace and agitation.

He strode to my bedside and bent down, staring me dead in the eye, his voice cold and savage, full of accusation and suspicion. "Vivienne, did you do this?"

I lifted my eyes and looked at him calmly.

He clenched his fists, his eyes full of distrust and misplaced fury, every word sharp and cold. "You heard me and Serena last night. Did you turn bitter and hire someone to kidnap her on purpose?"

"I'm warning you." His expression was vicious, colder and more merciless than I had ever seen. "If anything happens to Serena, I don't care who you are, I don't care how much you love me, I will never let you off."