Chapter 5

I prepared a feast, a table laden with dishes, fresh from the stove, steaming hot.

Genevieve, changing her shoes in the entryway, looked surprised. "You're still here?"

I shook my head.

"I have nowhere else to go."

"I'm so sorry for the trouble."

She sat beside me, her gaze sweeping over all the dishes. "How did you know my dietary restrictions?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"There are so many things I don't eat. It can't be a coincidence that you don't either, can it?"

The spare rib I'd just picked up slipped from my forks and splashed back into the soup.

Hot broth splattered onto my wrist, but I didn't flinch.

Julian had cooked these very dishes for me for six years.

He never let me cook, nor would he let me eat food made by anyone else. Every dish had to be his creation.

"Watch closely. You'll have to cook exactly like this when you make your own meals in the future."

"That's how you make the most delicious food."

To go to such elaborate lengths for a stand-in, Julian, you truly put in a lot of effort.

Suddenly, a tear fell into my bowl.

I frantically shoveled several mouthfuls of plain rice into my mouth, trying to hide my breakdown.

It tasted bitter, acrid, utterly disgusting. I choked it down, only for it to rise back up my throat.

Genevieve suddenly tugged at my sleeve.

"Your bra strap is showing."

"We really do have similar tastes. I used to have a matching one, but I haven't worn it in ages."

All my lingerie had been personally chosen by Julian.

From my underwear to my outerwear, he had controlled every aspect of my appearance.

*Knock, knock—*

The knocking was urgent.

Before we could reach the door, Julian had already let himself in, standing in the entryway.

The overhead light cast a shadow across his low-set brow, making him appear even more ominous.

"Rory, it's time to come home. Don't disturb Ms. Dubois's rest here."

He walked towards me.

His expression suddenly softened, and he gave Genevieve a slight nod before taking my hand, attempting to pull me away.

I stood my ground.

His grip tightened abruptly, almost crushing my hand.

Yet, on his face, he maintained a polished, gentle smile.

The pain made me gasp, but I was forced to let him drag me. Just as we reached the door, Genevieve suddenly spoke. "Ms. Hayes, do you need help? You don't have to go with him."

The pressure around Julian intensified again.

He was at his limit.

To avoid causing Genevieve any trouble, I shook my head. "I'm fine."

She cast a sidelong glance at Julian. "Trespassing, and acting like a brute — that's exactly why I can never take you back."

Julian's body stiffened.

He mumbled an apology, then quickly closed the door.

He dragged me, stumbling, all the way downstairs.

Genevieve wasn't here now, so he dropped the smile. His features were harder than steel.

"Did I ever tell you that a forgery can stay anywhere, except right next to the original?"

"Only then does a fake have value, only then can it bask in the attention of others, instead of being treated like trash and scorned when it's next to the real thing."

He often said this when he was making his forgeries.

The blood drained from my face.

"Rory, let me tell you one more thing."

"Who in the world cares most about a forgery?"

He smiled.

"The original, of course."

Whether it was forging art or finding a stand-in, from the very beginning, his sole purpose was to capture Genevieve's attention.

That was all.

Suddenly, I felt a sense of release.

After all, I'd never truly possessed Julian. Why grieve a loss that was never mine to begin with?

The wind outside was still fierce, tangling my hair, carrying away my shattered heart.

It was so cold.

Like snow falling on me, melting and draining away all my warmth.

It was late autumn just moments ago, but in a blink, it felt like the dead of winter.

Julian forcefully brought me back home.

He acted as if nothing had happened, never mentioning the drug I'd given him, nor my words about breaking up.