Chapter 1

The night before our wedding, I heard my fiancé, Raymond, promise another woman that he would make me the laughingstock of the entire city on our big day.

He had taken all my savings and built his firm with my money.

Yet in the end, he was plotting how to humiliate me, hoping to force me into calling off the wedding myself.

I didn't cry, and I didn't make a scene.

This wedding was off.

Raymond thought I was just throwing another temper tantrum, waiting for me to lower my head and beg for peace like I always did.

He had no idea that the only reason I ever liked him was because he looked like the true love I had lost.

I had already arranged my long-term residency paperwork for Switzerland, ready to leave for good.

Summer POV

I had always thought Raymond couldn't live without me.

From his mother's surgery bills to his partner seat at his firm, I was the one who sorted everything out for him.

Yet the night before our wedding, he promised Phoebe that he would humiliate me at the ceremony.

After hearing that, I decided not to get married.

At the rehearsal dinner, I went to touch up my lipstick and heard hushed voices right outside the restroom door.

Phoebe spoke first, her voice thick with tears. "If you really marry her, I won't go on living."

That was followed by a loud crash.

Looking through the crack in the door, I saw a wine glass shattered into pieces on the tile. Phoebe pressed her wrist against a jagged shard, tears streaming down her cheeks one by one.

Raymond's mother let out a heavy sigh. "She's been suffocating us all these years. This is our chance. Just call off the engagement."

His sister, Rachel, chimed in beside them. "Raymond, why do you even want to marry her? Do you love her face, or do you love her money?"

His mother added, "She treats you like a servant. I don't want someone like that in our family. Look how sweet Phoebe is. She's so considerate."

Phoebe sniffled softly. "Mrs. Miller, please don't say that. Summer didn't mean to..."

Rachel scoffed. "You're still defending her? When has she ever respected us? Last time Mom went to the penthouse to drop off some soup, Summer didn't even let her past the foyer."

Their mother wiped her eyes. "It wasn't even about the soup. I just wanted to check on my boy. I stood by that door for ten minutes, and she didn't even offer me a glass of water."

Phoebe looked up at Raymond. "Say something! Are you marrying her or not? If you do, I'll press down on this glass right now."

Silence fell over the room.

My hand rested on the doorframe. I didn't push it open.

I was waiting for him to speak.

What I had hoped for was actually very little.

I had pictured him waiting on the stage for me on our wedding day, letting a room full of guests see that this man belonged to me.

I never hesitated when spending money. I thought happiness could be bought the same way.

I was the sole heiress to the Vance family in New York, spoiled and pampered my entire life.

I never looked at price tags.

During my dress fitting the day before, I thought the seamstresses were too slow, so I replaced three of them on the spot.

When the floral arrangements didn't please me, a single word from me was enough to redesign the entire ballroom without a second thought.

Staff came and went constantly. Behind my back, they whispered that I was demanding and difficult to deal with. Whenever I heard it, I just smiled and never took it to heart.

The wedding date was set for the end of the month.

Then I heard Phoebe's wrist press closer to the glass. I heard Raymond's footsteps shift, followed by him reaching out to steady her trembling hand.

"On the wedding day, I won't show up," he said quietly. "I'll leave her standing alone in front of a hall full of guests, waiting for a groom who never comes."

My nails scraped lightly against the wooden frame.

The people inside that room were living off my dime, plotting how to use my money to discard me in public.

I was the one who saved his mother's life. I was the one who signed the checks for Rachel's tuition.

I wasn't even counting those anymore.

The debt I was calculating was different: after paving his way for so many years, all I got in return was his plan to strip away my dignity in front of everyone we knew.

His mother finally exhaled in relief. "That's for the best. With her pride, she'll call off the wedding herself once she's humiliated like that."

Rachel chuckled. "Raymond, you should've said that sooner. What good is her money? All she cares about is your face."

Phoebe smiled through her tears, wrapping her arms around Raymond's bicep and resting her cheek against him.

Through the crack in the door, I watched him let her hold him, even lifting a hand to wipe away her tears.

I recognized that hand.

Over all these years, he had never once wished me a happy birthday.

He knew how to do these things. He just chose not to do them for me.

The cold air from the hallway crept up past my heels.

I looked down at the ring on my left hand, then up at the closed door.

I didn't push it open.

Opening it would only end with the four of them claiming I was throwing another tantrum. That was a script I had played out countless times before, and I had no desire to perform today.

I knew that routine all too well: the second I demanded an explanation, everyone in the room would gang up on me until I started doubting myself, wondering if I had been the one in the wrong.

I turned around and walked downstairs, not calling for anyone, leaving on my own.

The car was dim inside. The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, too nervous to make a sound.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother.

"Mom," I said evenly. "I don't want to get married."

There was a brief silence on the other end. "You need to think this through. The invitations are already out."

"I'll have someone recall the invitations. Whatever the venue cancellation fee is, I'll pay it," I said.

Silence hung on the line for a few seconds. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I am," I said. "No matter how much Raymond looks like him, he isn't him."

Hanging up, I set the phone face down on my lap and looked out the window.

That person had grown up with me. He was a few years older, with a gentle, patient temperament.

Whenever I threw a fit, he could always coax me back into a good mood in no time.

He remembered that I couldn't have anything iced during my period.

Whenever I abandoned a chore because it was too much trouble, he would quietly clean up the mess for me.

When I was little, I hated peanuts, and he remembered that for over a decade.

On the day we were heading to get our marriage license, there was a car accident on the way. He died without even getting the chance to say goodbye.

Over the years, I had kept thirteen shadows by my side.

Every single one had to have eyes that resembled his, and the cadence of their voice had to match.

I spent money on them, paved their careers, and arranged comfortable lives for them.

Yet not one of them ever swapped out an iced drink in my hand for a warm one when my period came.

Raymond was the thirteenth.

Out of all thirteen, Raymond was the one who looked the most like him—even the curve of his lips matched perfectly.

I had given him everything I could, just so that face could stay by my side a few years longer.

I really thought that this time, I could finally hold onto something.

It was very late by the time I returned to our shared apartment.

The living room lights were on, and a stack of wedding invitations he had selected sat on the coffee table.

I walked over and shoved the stack aside.

Raymond pushed the door open and walked in, reeking of alcohol.

I sat on the sofa without even lifting my gaze.