Elena's POV

The next morning, I got up early, pretending nothing had happened.

I put on the pale blue robe James liked best and made breakfast, the way I always did.

I hadn't slept. The shadows under my eyes were awful.

But I didn't know any other way to face this.

The toaster popped. I plated everything and set two breakfasts on the table.

James came down a few minutes later than usual. Vicky was right behind him.

They hadn't come from the same room.

A small, stupid wave of relief went through me. Then I despised myself for it.

James looked uncomfortable.

He saw the shadows under my eyes. The guilt was right there in his face. He started to say something.

Vicky smiled and slid into the chair next to him.

"Thank you, Elena."

"James told me last night you cook beautifully."

"I appreciate the special treatment."

She'd taken my seat. She sat there easy, like she was the lady of the house.

I gripped the hem of my robe. I stared at James, willing him to say something.

He didn't.

My eyes burned. The tears were coming any second.

But I had too much pride for that.

I gave that face — my face — a smile, and reached over and pulled her plate toward me.

"Don't mention it. This one wasn't for you."

I bit into the buttered toast. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James freeze.

Vicky bit her lip. She glared at me, and then made herself laugh, soft and forgiving.

"I understand, Elena. This is hard for anyone."

I pretended I hadn't heard. I pushed the butter toward James.

"Babe? You're not eating? I thought you loved my buttered toast."

"Is it because there's not enough butter today?"

I smiled at him, sweet, working hard to look normal.

He took the butter without thinking. The look in his eyes when he met mine was full of pity.

"Elena, we need to talk—"

I pretended I hadn't heard that either, and just kept going.

"That bread we used to get all the time — I think they changed the recipe. It isn't sweet anymore."

"Elena—"

He said my name. His red eyes shimmered.

He was still being a gentleman about it. He couldn't bring himself to tear off the mask I was holding up, even though my voice was shaking now.

"What do you think, babe? You don't like the new recipe either, right?"

"Let's go to the market together next time. The staff make things easy, but I'd rather—"

"Elena, I'm sorry."

He cut me off, finally.

I bowed my head and chewed the toast. I couldn't taste any of it.

"I'm sorry. The person I love has always been—"

"I'm tired today. Don't. Please."

My shoulders were shaking. My voice was small.

"We'll talk about it later. Okay?"

I lifted my head and tried to smile. The tears came down anyway.

A muscle moved in James's jaw. He looked away. His beautiful, sculpted face was full of struggle.

But he'd made up his mind.

"I can't keep dragging this out, Elena. It isn't fair to you."

He softened his voice deliberately, like he was trying to wake me up.

"The one I love has always been Vicky."

"I told you I didn't want to hear it!"

We spoke at the same time. The plate in front of me hit the floor and shattered.

Vicky cried out, theatrical. James's arm shot up to shield her from the shards.

"Ah — sorry, I—"

I came back to myself and crouched on instinct, starting to pick up the pieces. The tears blurred my vision.

Just like the plate.

No matter how hard I lied to myself, our marriage couldn't be put back together.

Just now, the first person James had reached for hadn't been me.

It had been Vicky.

That was all the answer I needed.

I stood up. I didn't notice I'd cut my finger on the porcelain.

James came toward me in a hurry. He took my hand on instinct. Then he caught himself, let go, stepped back.

"I'll get a doctor—"

I grabbed his hand before he could pull away. I was crying and laughing at once.

I'd wanted to look beautiful for this. I couldn't. My face was all tears.

"James, you said it yourself. You loved me. You were the one who proposed. You wanted me to marry you."

I closed my hand around the pendant at my throat. I looked up at him, begging.

"You swore. You swore you'd protect me my whole life. Love me my whole life."

I stepped closer as I spoke. He turned his face away in pain.

"None of it counts anymore. Does it?"

"I'm sorry."

Even now, all he had for me was sorry.

"Let's get a divorce, Elena."

He said it.

I gave a thin, mocking smile, and let go of his hand.

"James. I'll never agree to a divorce."

I wiped my eyes. I looked at this man I loved more than anything, who could be this cruel to me, and I dug my heels in.

"I promised I would be your wife for life."

"I keep my promises."

"You can wait as long as you want. I'll be dead before I sign those papers."

Elena's POV

I knew this would put James in a hard spot.

I knew, too, that the reason he'd asked for a divorce so quickly was that he wanted to spare me more pain.

But he should have remembered something about me. I keep my word.

A promise made stays made. I don't take it back.

I had sworn to walk through this life with him. I wasn't going to give that up overnight.

Three years dating. Three years married. None of those memories were fake.

I'd been with him long enough. I refused to believe there hadn't been a single moment when he'd actually loved me — me, not the resemblance.

I remembered every step he'd taken to win me over. Every night and day he'd treated me like I was something precious. How was I supposed to walk away from that?

Our marriage had been registered with the Council of Elders. As long as I refused to sign, James had no legal grounds to remove me.

I'd chosen the most foolish way to fight, just so he'd be forced to face what he really felt.

I wanted to keep believing he still loved me. The truth was unbearable.

But pretend as I might, the house had changed.

Vicky moved in. She didn't make a scene of it. She just slipped into the household, like she'd never left. The staff started checking her face before mine before they did anything. She spoke softly, and people did what she said.

I still slept in the master bedroom. I was still, in name, his wife. After she came, that word — wife — felt thin.

A few days later was the annual gala for the vampire nobility.

I dressed the way I always did. I stood in front of the mirror, and out of habit, I straightened the pendant at my throat.

It was the one James had given me when he proposed. I had once thought of it as the firmest promise he could make.

Now, looking at the red stone in the mirror, all I could see was that it was the wrong color, on the wrong face — a face she also wore.

The ballroom was lit up bright. When James and I walked in together, the crowd parted for us, the way they always did. But the looks were different this time.

They weren't admiring our love story. They were watching the three of us, whispering.

Some lowered their voices. Some openly stared. One person mistook Vicky for me, then realized her mistake and asked me, awkwardly, why I hadn't been turned yet.

There was curiosity in their voices, and the bright edge of people watching a scandal unfold up close.

I pretended I hadn't heard, and kept walking with my arm in his. He didn't pull away. But his hand was colder than it had ever been.

Vicky wore a deep red gown. She looked like the night itself. Standing next to me, we were like light and shadow side by side. Someone gasped. Others looked back and forth between us, comparing. I had never hated my own face this much.

We made polite conversation. James introduced Vicky, and in front of everyone he still called me his wife, carefully protecting my dignity.

It only made me ache worse.

While my mind drifted, Vicky was already at ease, chatting with a cluster of vampires, telling the story of her death and return.

I was about to slip away quietly when she called my name.

"Elena. Thank you for taking care of James these past few years."

She said it softly, even gratefully. But she said it loud enough, in a setting like this, for everyone to hear.

The room went still. People glanced over, waiting to see what I'd do.

I looked at that face that was the same as mine, and something pressed hard on my chest. I made myself smile.

"It was nothing. He's my husband."

The strain in my own voice was obvious to me. I had no choice but to keep up appearances.

The Elders had noticed the moment too. They walked over without hurrying. Their eyes lingered on Vicky and me, then settled on me.

"Elena," one of them said. The tone was kind, but the weight in it couldn't be ignored. "We've heard your turning ceremony was interrupted. That's rare among the noble families."

He took his time. There was no way around it. "As your union is officially registered, we need to know whether this is going to affect the marriage."

The room went silent. Every eye came back to me.

I stood very straight. I didn't dare let my breathing show.

"It was just an interruption. It's nothing."

My voice was steadier than I'd expected from myself.

I paused, and added, "James and I are fine."

The moment I said it, I caught Vicky's small smile. She didn't say anything. She lifted her hand and slid it through James's arm, easy, like she'd been doing it for years.

He didn't pull away. He just looked at me. Worried.

The gala dragged on. I made it through on instinct. I smiled, I raised my glass, I said the right things at the right times. No one could have called me anything but composed.

Only I knew my hands hadn't stopped shaking.

When it was over, I didn't go back to the main hall. I went out onto the terrace alone.

The night air was cold. I stood there and drank, glass after glass, trying to dull the pain.

After a long time, I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't turn around.

"Where's Vicky?" I asked, mild.

"I sent her home." James came up beside me. His voice was low. "I wanted to talk to you."

I gave a small laugh and swirled the wine in my glass. "What's left to talk about?"

He was quiet. He seemed to be choosing his words.

"I don't want it to be like this," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."

I didn't answer. I kept drinking.

"I loved her for years. When she died, I almost didn't survive it. I couldn't function for a long time."

He stopped, like he was weighing the next part.

"And then I met you."

The wind off the terrace was cold. He took off his coat and put it around my shoulders.

It was the same gesture he'd done a thousand times. I reached up to take it without thinking. I almost leaned against him. He stepped to the side.

For a second, I felt myself nudged away — gently, but definitely. The ache it set off cleared my head completely.

"So now you have to keep your distance — for her sake?" I said.

He frowned. He didn't answer.

I lowered my head and breathed in his coat. "There's a women's perfume on you. It's strong. I don't like it."

His face darkened. "Elena. Don't talk about her like that."

I nodded, smiling without warmth. "Right. I don't have the standing." I looked up at him, calm. "I'm only the stand-in, after all."

His voice got quieter. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

I shook my head. I didn't argue.

"Do you remember the first time we met? It was a gala too. A terrace, like this one. I was sitting alone in a corner. You were the one who came over to me."

I looked at him. "Why didn't you tell me then?"

He paused. "I was afraid you'd refuse me."

I laughed. My eyes were burning.

"If you'd told me earlier — that I only looked like her, that that's why you wanted me — I wouldn't have been so stupid. I wouldn't have loved you all these years."

He looked rattled. The words rushed out of him.

"Elena. I can make this right. I can still turn you—"

"Enough."

I cut him off. Quiet. Final.

"I only agreed to be turned because I wanted to spend forever with the man I loved."

He went still.

I handed his coat back. I gave him a small, easy smile, like nothing had happened.

"None of that matters now. You don't have to force yourself."

I turned to leave. The wind off the terrace was cold, but I didn't look back.

"As for the divorce," I said over my shoulder, "I won't agree to it."

Elena's POV

After that night, my body started to feel strange.

It was small at first. I tired easily. I'd get dizzy without warning.

I told myself it was the stress. Or aftereffects from the interrupted turning. I didn't think much of it.

It got worse. I started losing focus at work. I couldn't even finish basic sketches.

One morning at the studio, I'd been on my feet for less than half an hour when my vision went black.

My assistant panicked and told me to go home.

I didn't argue. I took the day off.

On the way back, I stopped at a hospital.

The irony of it. I was pregnant.

The child we'd wanted for three years had finally come — right when its mother had stopped being loved.

For half a second I thought: maybe with a baby, James won't go through with the divorce.

Then I shoved the thought down.

I wasn't going to be that woman. The kind who chains a husband to her with a child.

He had picked me once because of someone else's face. Was I really going to let him stay because of a child now?

I couldn't do that to either of us. I had to keep this to myself.

If he changed his mind, I would stay. I would still be his wife.

If he still loved Vicky — I'd take the baby and go.

…

When I pushed the front door open, there were voices in the living room.

I wasn't going to listen.

Then I heard Vicky.

"How much longer are you going to drag this out?"

The softness she used in front of other people was gone. Her tone was sharp now — impatient, pushing.

I stopped where I was.

"James. You said you loved me."

Her voice dropped lower, sharper. "Then why aren't you divorcing her?"

There was a pause. I stood by the door. I didn't go in.

My heart clenched.

James's voice was low. "I told you. I'm handling it."

"Handling it?" Vicky gave a cold laugh. "What you call handling it is letting her stay in this house?"

"She's only your wife on paper. The paper was a substitute for me."

"I'm back now. What do you still need her for?"

My fingertips went cold.

James was quiet for a moment.

"I don't want to hurt her," he said.

That made me laugh under my breath.

Right. James didn't want to hurt me. Everything else was my own doing.

Vicky's voice changed.

"You don't want to hurt her. What about me?"

It cracked. "I died once already, James."

"Do you have any idea how alone I was?"

"When I came to, the first person I thought of was you."

Her voice got smaller. "If you're still hesitating over her, then maybe I shouldn't have come back at all."

"Stop."

His voice tightened.

"Don't talk like that."

"Why can't I?" she said, through tears. "If you don't want a divorce, I'll go."

"I can throw myself into the sea again."

"I should have stayed dead the first time."

The room went dead silent.

I could picture his face.

This was the one thing he couldn't bear.

He had broken once before, when she'd "died."

Standing there at the door, something inside me went very calm.

"Don't."

His voice had panic in it now. "I won't let anything happen to you again."

"Then divorce her."

She came back at him without missing a beat.

He didn't answer right away — a few seconds of silence.

Then, low: "All right."

I'd known it was coming. That single word still left me hollow.

"I'll get her to agree."

He said it.

Vicky wasn't satisfied.

"And if she doesn't?"

"You're going to keep dragging it out?"

"She will."

His voice was colder now.

"I'll find a way."

"What way?" Vicky pressed.

She paused, and her tone went soft again.

"Why not just file the paperwork yourself?"

"She loves you, doesn't she? She trusts you?"

"Tricking her into signing it — how hard would that really be?"

I stood there, my stomach turning.

The nausea pushed up my throat. I almost couldn't hold it down.

James didn't answer.

His silence pressed the room flat.

Vicky tried again.

"If you won't."

Her voice was terribly soft now. "Then I'll take it that you don't need me."

"I'll go."

"And I won't come back this time."

"Enough!"

He almost shouted it.

The next second, his voice was breaking.

"All right. I'll do it."

"I'll trick her into signing."

I didn't need to hear any more.

I pushed the door open.

The air froze.

I stood in the doorway, looking at them.

James went rigid.

Vicky recovered fast.

I walked in. My footsteps were steady. As if I hadn't heard a thing.

Vicky rolled her eyes. She probably thought I was about to do what I always did. Pretend. Hide. Avoid.

Only I knew my hands were shaking.

I walked up to the two of them and stopped.

The air was thick with her perfume. Even with my pendant on, I couldn't catch a trace of James's scent through it.

I frowned without meaning to. The nausea got sharper.

I looked at him. I kept my voice low.

"James. Just for one moment."

"Just for one moment — was there ever a time you loved me for me?"

I lowered my eyes and waited for him to answer. He stayed silent.

I looked up. He had that gentle, pained expression of his — the one that meant he didn't want to hurt me, and couldn't bring himself to lie.

It was strange. Just like that, the pain was gone.

"I heard your answer."

I lifted my head and gave him a small smile.

"James. I'll agree to the divorce."

He went still. Like he hadn't caught up.

"You didn't have to scheme like this."

My voice was even. There wasn't a tremor in it.

"I'll sign."

He opened his mouth.

"Elena, I—"

He was about to say something. An apology. An explanation.

He didn't get the chance.

Vicky already had a folder of papers in her hand.

She moved fast. Like she'd had it ready for a long time.

"Then let's get it done."

She smiled, gentle, like she was helping me out of something.

I glanced at the papers.

I didn't hesitate. I took them.

I flipped to the right page and signed.

I didn't pause.

I didn't look at him once.

The moment my pen left the page, something in me eased.

I handed the papers back. I looked at James.

He stared down at my signature. He looked sad.

I gave a small laugh.

"You don't have to look so surprised."

"I knew who you'd choose. I've known for a while."

The color drained out of his face.

I unclasped the pendant and set it on the table as I went on.

"At the gala, when the Elders questioned me. You didn't speak up for me."

"When I brought up the night we met. You didn't react."

I paused. My voice was almost a whisper.

"These past few days, I've been alone in that room."

"And the two of you have been downstairs."

"Eating together. Talking together."

"I heard all of it."

The silence in the room was awful.

I looked at him, and realized it didn't hurt anymore.

"I'm sorry. I'm done."

He finally spoke.

"Elena. I'm sorry."

I shook my head and stopped him.

"James. Don't apologize to me."

I gave him my last smile.

"I'm the one who's letting you go."

I turned and walked out. I didn't look back.

From this moment on, I was going to disappear from his world.