Chapter 1

The third year of their marriage, Elaine Faerwyn gazed at the woman sitting across from her and released a soft.

This was the ninety-ninth mistress of Alistair Chase's that she had handled—and unquestionably the most difficult of the lot.

No matter how substantial the settlement Elaine offered, this woman remained immovable, stubbornly insisting on staying by Alistair's side.

Elaine took a deliberate sip of her espresso, the bitter liquid matching her mood perfectly as her lips curved into a self-deprecating smile. "You really should name your price," she said, setting down the porcelain cup with a soft clink against the saucer. "He's a wanderer who's never found his star. Surely you can see that in him? I'm his wife, yet my primary function seems to be disposing of lovers he's grown bored with as you see now."

Despite Elaine's candid counsel, Vivian Turner showed not the slightest glimmer of comprehension. Instead, she tilted her chin upward with unmistakable defiance, her manicured hand sliding provocatively over her stomach with a smugness that made Elaine's skin crawl.

"I'm different," Vivian declared, eyes flashing with triumph. "You simply lack what it takes to hold his interest. Alistair loves me. He made sex with me day and day, can't bear to look away from my face, and his has practically memorized all my preferences."

"Besides," she added with calculated timing, "I just found out I'm carrying his baby..."

A child?

Elaine's gaze fixed on the woman's still-flat abdomen, her mind momentarily short-circuiting.

He had promised that he would never father a child to humiliate her publicly or privately.Alistair, you couldn't even keep the only pathetically small promise you made to me.

Her painted lips parted to respond, but before she could articulate the acid rising in her throat, the villa's doors swung open with theatrical timing.

Alistair Chase strode in, his iPhone screen still illuminated with an active call, his deep, whiskey-smooth voice flowing with practiced charm as he soothed whoever waited on the other end.

One glance was all Elaine needed to recognize the tell-tale signs,he'd already marked his next conquest.

Alistair looked up, momentarily caught off-guard by the tableau of two women in his living room, then quickly recalibrated, slipping into his signature devil-may-care expression. Leaning against a nearby table with casual dominance, he turned to Elaine "Dear, haven't you wrapped up this little mess yet?"

"Alistair, I'm pregnant,don't cast me aside, please?"

Vivian blurted out before Elaine could answer, rushing to his side with the desperation of a gambler placing her final bet, her expression transformed from Queen to supplicant.

At this revelation, he faltered visibly. For a moment, the carefully crafted mask of indifference slipped from his aristocratic features as he ended his call with a decisive thumb tap.

Alistair approached Vivian, his hand brushing over her stomach.Something cold and calculating flickered across his eyes.

He chuckled softly, the sound lacking any real warmth. "Since you're carrying my child, we'll maintain our arrangement. Go home for now," he instructed, his tone making it clear this wasn't a request. "I'll be in touch."

Having secured the answer she'd gambled for, Vivian finally relented, leaving the Chase mansion with undisguised triumph radiating from her carefully contoured face.

"Why?" Elaine asked once the front door closed with a decisive click, her voice laced with a bitterness she no longer bothered to disguise.

Alistair didn't bother with pretense—one of his few redeeming qualities. As he walked toward his state-of-the-art bathroom, loosening his tie, he answered flatly"She resembles Sophia the most. I want a child with Sophia's features."

"Don't worry," he continued, unbuttoning his cuffs with practiced efficiency. "Once the baby is born, I'll send her packing with an NDA. Your position as Mrs. Chase—and all the privileges that accompany it—will remain untouchable."

Though his words confirmed he had no genuine feelings for Vivian, a sharp pain still lanced through Elaine's heart.

All because of that name—Sophia Adams.

Elaine and Alistair had grown up together in the same place.But his heart belonged only to Sophia, his golden-haired first love, taken tragically young in that devastating car accident on the coastal highway.

After Sophia's death, Alistair transformed from devoted romantic to Manhattan's most notorious playboy.

He'd conquered his way through New York's elite dating pool. Every eligible socialite except Elaine. She remained the only untouched name on the list—her features lacking any resemblance to Sophia's golden perfection.

Until three years ago, when Faerwyn Industries faced a hostile takeover while the Chase family board pressured Alistair to marry and project stability to nervous investors. Seeking a solution to both problems,he would leverage his vast resources to save her family's company in exchange for a marriage of convenience.

She agreed.

On their wedding night, he made things brutally clear—he was marrying her merely to silence his board and secure his inheritance. She couldn't interfere with his extramarital pursuits, but in return, he would ensure her position as Mrs. Chase remained unassailable. Most importantly, he would never father a child that might complicate their arrangement or humiliate her publicly.

What choice did Elaine have but to accept? Her father's legacy and thousands of employees' livelihoods depended on her sacrifice.

Thus began their elaborate charade of marital bliss. His parade of girlfriends continued uninterrupted, each one bearing some haunting resemblance to Sophia. Each time he tired of them, he deployed Elaine as his personal cleanup crew.

She would deliver the same practiced speech, refined through countless repetitions"I'm his wife, and he doesn't even love me. How long do you expect him to love you? Take the money, sign the NDA, and salvage what's left of your dignity."

Among all his mistresses, Vivian Turner was Sophia's most perfect doppelgänger.

Elaine had anticipated he would treat Vivian differently. His previous relationships operated on a precise four-week timeline, yet with Vivian, it had stretched beyond six months. Still, she never imagined Vivian has a baby already, much less Elaine decide to accept this baby!

Elaine couldn't help wondering if Alistair truly believed she lacked all self-respect. Early in their marriage, he had "accidentally" discovered love letters she had written during their college years but never sent, revealing she had silently loved him for over a decade.

Perhaps that discovery was why he assumed she would tolerate anything.

She had endured his countless girlfriends,now he expected her to accept his decision to have a child that resembled Sophia. But this time, the last thread of her patience had finally snapped.

Coming back to herself, she watched Alistair's retreating figure disappear into the bathroom. With newfound resolve, she retrieved her phone and dialed a number.

"Mr. Davidson,is the divorce agreement I asked you to draft last week ready? I'll have my driver pick it up tomorrow morning."

Chapter 2

Early the following morning,when she descended the staircase, only to catch Alistair by the front door, car keys in hand.

She paused mid-step, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Isn't today your day off. Where are you going?"

"Taking Vivian to her ultrasound scan." he replied without a hint of remorse or discretion.

She watched his Bentley disappear down the driveway, unable to suppress a bitter smile that twisted her lips.

After Alistair leaving, Elaine quietly finished her breakfast and left the house herself.

Her car cut through Manhattan traffic with practiced efficiency, quickly arriving at the sleek downtown offices of Davidson & Partners. The attorney was waiting, leather portfolio already open on the conference table.

"After both parties signed,you can get the divorce certificate after sixty days." Davidson explained, sliding the documents toward her.

Elaine examined the papers and nodded decisively. "Well. I'll have Alistair sign it and return them today."

When she returned to the estate later that afternoon, she heard unusual commotion before even entering. Pushing open the front door, she discovered not only Alistair in the living room, but Vivian as well.

Servant staff bustled about, carrying luggage upstairs. Before she could process the scene, Alistair's voice cut through her confusion, casual yet brooking no argument.

"Vivian shouldn't be alone during her pregnancy—it's not safe. I've moved her in," he stated flatly. "She'll be staying here for a while. Just bear with it, and as compensation, I'll grant you any request you want."

Elaine remained silent for a moment, then smiled faintly. She reached into her bag and extracted the divorce papers, opening them to the final page.

"Help me sign this document," she said, watching his face carefully, her heart racing despite her outward calm.

She couldn't predict his reaction.

Alistair took the papers, but before he could examine them, Vivian pressed against his side, effectively blocking his view. "Alistair, darling," she purred, "the baby just kicked! Don't you want to feel it?"

He had already assumed it was merely a credit authorization. Vivian's interruption erased any inclination he might have had to review the document.

He scrawled his signature on the line without a second glance, then casually handed the papers back to Elaine.

"If you want to buy something, just get it. If you need more money, talk to Parker," he said dismissively.

With that, he carried Vivian upstairs, leaving Elaine alone with the signed divorce papers.

Would he regret it when he discovered he'd signed so carelessly was actually divorce papers? Probably not.

After all, he had never loved her. Their marriage had been nothing but a convenient solution to family pressure.

Vivian settled into their house, and from that day forward, peace abandoned the household completely.

Using her pregnancy as both shield and weapon, she reigned with unchecked tyranny.

On her very first day, she decimated the garden. When Elaine came downstairs, she discovered her carefully cultivated roses brutally uprooted, the once-pristine beds reduced to chaos. The perpetrator stood nearby, her smile deliberately provocative.

"Alistair said my happiness comes first," Vivian announced, "and those ugly things made me unhappy, so I had them removed. You're not upset, are you, Elaine?"

Elaine stared at the ravaged garden beds in silence. After a long moment, she said nothing.

After all, everything belonged to Alistair.After all, she would be leaving soon.

The next day, Vivian demanded their wedding portrait be taken down from the grand foyer. She ceremoniously cut Elaine's image from the photograph and burned it in the fireplace.

By the third day, she had claimed the master bedroom, moving in with Alistair under the pretense that "the baby needs its daddy at night."

Each time, Alistair chose to indulge her. Each time, he offered Elaine the same empty words.

"Vivian's pregnant. I'll make it up to you after she delivers the baby,."

His casual tone dripped with indifference. Elaine stared at the black AmEx card he offered as compensation and laughed softly to herself.

But Alistair, there is no "after" for us anymore.

Chapter 3

Elaine decided to purge the house of her belongings, boxing up anything that was truly hers.

As she sorted through her possessions, she realized just how much of her life had revolved around Alistair.

The silver button from his Yale blazer she'd secretly saved. The leather-bound journal he'd bought for her birthday. A whole album of photographs she'd taken of him when he wasn't looking.

She opened the album, her fingers tracing the images.

The first photo showed him as a college sophomore, captured mid-jump shot during the basketball game. She's behalf on school photography team, this particular shot—the one that perfectly captured his intensity and grace,so she'd kept for herself.

The remaining pages contained stolen moments,Alistair asleep, Alistair accepting his MBA with that confident half-smile. And even... Alistair with Sophia, laughing by the fountain outside the Morgan Library.

How pathetically devoted must she have been to treasure even photos of him loving someone else?

Elaine closed the album with a decisive snap and buried it at the bottom of box before continuing her inventory.

During their three years of marriage, Alistair had given her countless gifts—all expensive jewelry in the same predictable style.

Expensive,exquisite and emotionless,all purchased by his assistant. She'd kept them pristine in their blue boxes.

Now she wouldn't need them anymore.

When she finished sorting, all that remained of her presence in the house were the furnishings.

This villa had been their marital home. From the day they'd moved in, she'd been waiting, hoping for Alistair to finally let go of Sophia and let her standing right in front of him.

But on their wedding night, with just a few cold sentences, he'd made it clear that would never happen.

Still, she'd persisted, deliberately weaving herself into the fabric of his life, hoping he'd grow accustomed to her presence, perhaps even dependent on it.

What a naive delusion that had been！

Alistair noticed the change as soon as he returned that evening.

"Did you get rid of things? Why does everything look so empty?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Yes," Elaine replied with nonchalance. "Everything was outdated, and since you've brought someone new into the house, the old furnishings are inappropriate."

Hearing this, Alistair nodded in agreement.

"You're right—it has been a while. Vivian's pregnant, we'll need a nursery. I will invite the interior designers come redo the entire place."

She froze momentarily, then lowered her head without further comment.

Alistair moved with efficiency. In just 24 hours, the house was transformed beyond recognition.

Elaine watched as every trace of her existence was systematically erased, and strangely, she felt a creeping sense of liberation.

Soon, not only would there be no evidence she had ever lived here—she herself would be gone.

"So, how's it feel watching yourself get erased?" Vivian taunted, her lip curling into a smirk. "I'm the one who belongs here now. Give it a few weeks and you'll be nothing but that woman Alistair used to be married to."

Hearing the smug voice behind her, Elaine turned to find Vivian leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her baby bump, wearing the self-satisfied smirk.

Weirdly, instead of the anger that should have surged through her, Elaine wanted laugh in the woman's perfectly made-up face.

Poor clueless Vivian had no idea she resembled Sophia in Alistair's twisted fantasy.That the only reason he'd let her keep the baby was to have a mini-Sophia running around the house. That in Alistair's screwed-up mind, no living woman could compete with the ghost he'd put on a pedestal.

Elaine almost felt sorry for her.

Whatever.

She turned to leave, but Vivian grabbed her arm.

"You know what's pathetic on you?" Vivian sneered, her voice dripping venom. "How long have you been Mrs. Chase? Still not having even a single child huh? Talk about failing at the one thing you're supposed to do." She patted her own belly. "Lucky for Alistair, I'm here to pick up your slack. If you had an ounce of self-respect, you'd sign those divorce papers and disappear before he has to watch you embarrass yourself anymore."

Elaine froze as the brutal words hit her. After a moment's shock, she almost had to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

She locked eyes with Vivian, all fake politeness vanishing in an instant. "It's me who is his legal wife!" she snapped. "The shameless person?It's obviously you！"

Vivian's face turned blotchy with rage as she pointed a shaking finger at Elaine, too furious to form words.

Then, before Elaine could process what was happening, the woman hauled off and slapped herself across the face.

Tears sprang from Vivian's eyes as she cradled her reddening cheek.

Elaine was still trying to make sense of this bizarre theater when she heard footsteps racing toward them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Alistair roared, appearing out of nowhere.

The words had barely left his mouth when a violent force slammed into her. Alistair lunged forward and shoved her hard.She stumbled backward.

Right behind her was the staircase!

"No!"she yelled out.

Her hand shot out desperately, grasping at nothing,she collapsed and hit the floor straightly.

A searing pain shot through her body. Within seconds, her vision blurred, unconscious.