In the third year, someone claimed they’d seen me working as an escort in a private club overseas.

In the fourth and fifth years, every time there was news—any whisper—about my whereabouts, Fletcher would rush to the location and investigate it himself.

This time was no different.

He truly believed the rumor might finally be real.

But instead of finding me, he was met with a stranger.

When he got back, he flew into a rage.

“How could you give me such a false report?!” he roared, hurling a glass to the floor.

His assistant went pale, trembling.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Reynold. I should’ve looked into it more carefully,” he stammered. “She was using the same phone as Miss Ashley and her face looked somewhat similar to hers, so I thought she was—”

“The woman in the wedding photo in your office…” The words slipped out barely above a whisper.

Fletcher’s expression eased slightly. In that moment, he realized it wasn’t entirely the assistant’s fault.

The man had only been hired in recent years. He had never met me before, so mistaking someone else for me was understandable.

Fletcher took a deep breath, slumped into his chair and sank into thought.

“Ashley, what kind of game are you playing? Are you toying with me on purpose—keeping me chasing, just so you can feel satisfied?” He slammed a fist into the wall.

It took a long time before he managed to pull himself together.

“Just wait,” he growled, “I will find you—dead or alive. And when I do, I’ll make sure you see… me leaving you, the same way you left me!”

By the time Fletcher got home, it was already past midnight.

The lights were still on. June sat on the couch, eyes red from crying, waiting for him.

As soon as she heard the door, she threw herself into his arms.

“Fletcher, where have you been?” her voice choked with hurt.

A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. He took her hand and said, “June, I told you not to wait up for me. You should have gone to bed.”

“You went looking for Ashley again, didn’t you?” she demanded.

“Fletcher, it’s not that I don’t want you to remember her, but have you forgotten? She walked out on you at your lowest point and took every cent you had left to save your life. She doesn’t deserve forgiveness!”

Her eyes were wet with tears threatening to spill.

“Have you forgotten what you said to me five years ago when you woke up? You told me you’d forget that woman—and marry me.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Fletcher’s brows furrowed slightly.

“I know when I had nothing, you emptied your savings for my treatment… you even gave me your bone marrow. I promise I will marry you. It’s just…” he faltered, voice low, “I still don’t understand why Ashley was so ruthless. Why she just… left without a word.”

Watching the pain and confusion knot his face, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.

But I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

Because I was already dead.

All I could do was cling to my resentment, using the faint thread of awareness I had left to watch it all unfold.

That night, I saw Fletcher take out the necklace he’d had made for me five years ago and fasten it gently around June’s neck.

Then he pulled her close—and kissed her.

“June, I know you’ve loved me with all your heart these past five years. Don’t worry—our wedding will still take place next month, just as planned.”

Reassured, June’s expression softened.

“Then I want you to promise me—don’t go looking for Ashley anymore. Once we’re married, I’ll give you a child and we’ll live a happy life as a family of three…”

With that sweet dream in her mind, June drifted off to sleep in Fletcher’s arms.

But as soon as she fell asleep, Fletcher’s eyes flickered with thought.

He gently moved her off him, got up and went downstairs.

Dialing his assistant’s number, he said, “You said the hotel housekeeper was using Ashley’s phone?”

The next day, Fletcher received the complete information on the hotel housekeeper.

“Zoey Stone. Female. Thirty-two years old…” The assistant read from the file, his tone cautious.

Fletcher’s brow tightened with every detail.

“We ran a thorough check, sir. As far as we can tell, this woman– Zoey has no connection to Ashley. Honestly, I doubt they even know each other.”

His expression didn’t change. Fingers tapped lightly on the desk. “Okay. You can go.”

From that day forward, Fletcher’s attention began to settle more and more on Zoey.

One evening after work, she was cornered in a narrow alley by a few drunk louts, seconds away from being assaulted.

Sitting in his black luxury car, Fletcher watched, face unreadable.

Just as they reached for her dress strap, a fist came down hard. The drunks were kicked to the ground in an instant.

Zoey, still shaken, looked up at him. “It’s you again? Thank you…for saving me.”

Fletcher said nothing, only shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

She shook her head with a bitter smile. “I don’t have a home. I can’t afford rent. I’ve been sleeping in the hotel’s cleaning supply room.”

He looked at her in surprise. Half an hour later, he handed her a bank card.

“Stop working at the hotel. Come be my assistant.”

Her eyes lit up, joy breaking across her face.

From then on, she became Fletcher’s personal assistant.

His clothes—Zoey ironed them.

His schedule—Zoey arranged it.

And she handled it better than anyone before her.

But one day, Fletcher came home early. He leaned against the doorway, watching her tidy his wardrobe.

The longer he looked, the darker his expression grew.

“How do you know this way of tying a bow?”

He crossed the room in a few strides, seizing the tie in her hands, his own trembling.

Only one person he knew tied bows that way—me.

Back in that shabby rented apartment, I used to do it just to make him laugh.

Even the strings around a cake box, I’d tie into this same bow.

Fletcher’s eyes turned red as he gripped Zoey’s shoulders.

“Tell me! What’s your connection to Ashley? Where is she?”

Zoey stared back, confused and frightened.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I learned how to tie this bow from the internet.”

But Fletcher couldn’t accept it.

Every instinct told him she was linked to me—but no matter how hard he searched, he found nothing.

He kept staring at her, as if trying to see through her face to the one behind it.

Floating above, I felt a bitter storm in my chest.

Zoey’s face was maybe half like mine, but the way she moved was different.

Still, if she tried to imitate me, anyone who didn’t know me well might never notice.

Right now, that look on her face… it made Fletcher’s grip soften.

Their eyes locked. Something unspoken began to stir in the air and Zoey’s cheeks burned red.

“Sir… do I look like someone you knew? Do you love that woman so much?”

Fletcher’s gaze cleared a little. He began to let go—but Zoey suddenly winced, her body tilting backward.

“My head… it’s spinning, sir…”

He caught her before she could fall.

That was the exact moment June appeared in the doorway.

She froze, her face drained of color. The teacup in her hand slipped, shattering on the floor with a sharp crash.

“Fletcher! Who is this woman?”

June looked as if she might shatter into pieces.

She rushed forward, crying bitterly. “Is this what you meant when you said you’d forget Ashley and build a life with me? If you’ve really forgotten her, why bring in a stand-in?”

Fletcher frowned, blocking her from grabbing Zoey.

“Don’t be ridiculous, June. She’s just my newly hired personal assistant. She has nothing to do with Ashley.”

But June wouldn’t believe a word of it.

“I just saw you holding her in your arms and you expect me to believe you’re innocent?” she snapped.

“Fletcher, you heartless man—have you forgotten? When you were stuck in that hospital bed with leukemia and no one else gave a damn, I was the one who stayed by your side!”

Her voice broke, bitter with accusation. “I knew it… You’ve never stopped thinking about Ashley, even after all these years.”

“That’s enough, June!” Fletcher’s brow furrowed deeper. “She was feeling unwell and I just helped her stand. That’s it. Nothing happened between us.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“Stop imagining things. we’ll still be held the wedding next month.”

Soon, the private doctor arrived to examine Zoey.

“It seems that she’s just having fatigue. A couple days of good rest should do.”

So Fletcher gave her an entire week off.

Since Zoey had no place to live and she was his assistant, she’d been staying in the housekeeper’s room on the first floor of the villa since she was hired.

Now, with a week of no work, she stayed there all day—driving June nearly mad with resentment.

One afternoon, when Fletcher wasn’t home, June seized her chance confronting Zoey.

“Zoey, right?” She glared coldly at her.

“I’ve looked into you. You’re just a cleaner. Fletcher only hired you as his assistant out of pity. If you think that means you can take my place, you’d better forget it.”

She deliberately pulled out a wedding photo of herself and Fletcher, waving it in front of Zoey with a cold smile.

“Think you have a chance because you look a bit like the woman in this picture? Well, let me tell you—my husband hates this woman’s guts. The only reason he keeps you around is because you resemble her, so he can take his sweet revenge. If you have any sense, you’ll get out while you still can.”

Zoey kept her head lowered, hiding her expression. Her voice came out low and muffled.

“Understood.”

June even had someone draft a resignation letter on the spot and ordered Zoey to give it to Fletcher.

When Zoey brought the letter to his study, she found Fletcher drunk again, slouched in the armchair, staring blankly.

His eyes were fixed on a pendant hanging on the wall.

One glance and Zoey recognized it—a cheap trinket from a street stall.

How could a billionaire like Fletcher treasure something so worthless?

Before she could ask, he spoke first.