The Billionaire's Runaway Stand-in

If you want to jump, do it. At least your life insurance will pay for Cody's new house. Those were the last words my biological parents ever yelled at me.

Alistair pulled me back from the ledge of that roof. He took me in. He raised the broken, little girl inside me all over again.

For five whole years, he handed me the world. Money. Affection. Safety.

Until today. He spent hours cooking my absolute favorite comfort meals. Then, he looked at me with dead eyes. "Maren, what is your price? Gold or diamonds? It is time for you to leave."

Chapter 1

This was the exact first time Alistair stayed with me for New Year's Eve. Steam rolled off the Dutch oven of creamy seafood risotto.

He set the last plate of roasted asparagus on the kitchen island. He untied his apron. His deep, velvet voice called me to dinner.

Alistair came from old money. He usually preferred dry-aged steaks and vintage Bordeaux. But today, he made a real effort. The table groaned under all my favorite homestyle dishes. He even baked fresh dinner rolls from scratch.

The last time my parents bought me a Happy Meal, they drove me out to a gas station. They left me there.

So when Alistair told me to pack my bags, I didn't even flinch. Happiness always comes with a heavy price tag.

"Maren, name your price. Gold or diamonds?" Alistair slowly stirred his risotto. His tone matched a man discussing the morning traffic.

A refined billionaire always knows the most elegant way to evict his sugar baby. The risotto had way too much black pepper. It burned the back of my throat.

I dropped my gaze to my lap. I asked him for a cake.

"That is it?"

Yeah. That is it. A strawberry shortcake with layers of thick whipped cream. The kind with little chocolate curls scattered on top. The exact kind Cody tore into every single birthday. The kind I never got to taste.

"Think carefully, Maren. I want a clean break. No lingering attachments. Vivienne has a lot of insecurities. I can't have you hanging around."

Why would I ever cling to him? He gave me a roof. He gave me affection. He filled every hollow space my toxic family carved out of my chest.

One slice of that cake, and I would walk away clean. Zero regrets. He wanted to build a home with the one that got away. It was time for me to disappear.

The day I met Alistair, I stood on the ledge of a ten-story building. Pedestrians shrieked from the pavement below. The firefighters got my parents on the phone. Hector and Barbara screamed through the speaker.

"If you want to jump, do it. At least your life insurance will pay for Cody's new house."

Chapter 2

The wind whipped across the ledge. The concrete pavement ten stories down promised absolute silence. Gravity almost claimed me.

Then, a man in gold-rimmed glasses sprinted across the tar roof and yanked me backward. The emerald dial of his Rolex caught the harsh sunlight. It blinded me for a second.

He shoved a massive, cloud-like spun sugar cone into my trembling hands. His own voice shook. He told me the county fair closed at five. We still had time to make it, if I wanted to come with him.

I sat on the painted horses of a carousel. I tore off pieces of that blue raspberry cotton candy until it disappeared. That single moment anchored me to Alistair for five whole years. He pieced together the shattered little girl inside me.

Alistair played the role of the perfect benefactor. Zero emotional baggage, endless resources, minimal demands.

I never stressed over student loans or climbing the corporate ladder. I made pleasing him my full-time job. In return, the velvet jewelry boxes and unlimited credit cards never stopped flowing.

His old-money upbringing dictated a flawless gentleman's facade. Even as his kept woman, he treated my every word as absolute law. Except behind closed bedroom doors.

The guys in his inner circle placed bets. They gave me six months before he tossed me out. Years slipped by. I kept my footing right beside him. Fate finally cut me a break. Two decades of hell, and the universe tossed me a piece of candy.

The housekeepers at his Mercer Island estate whispered when they thought I could not hear. They dissected my face. They compared my features to Vivienne.

Vivienne. The one that got away. The woman who rejected his diamond ring to chase a master's degree in Paris. Playing the role of her understudy hardly bothered me.

I shared a face with my biological brother, Cody. My parents still starved me of every ounce of affection. But looking like Vivienne? Alistair practically drowned me in the love meant for her. I knew my place. I got a taste of the absolute best. I never expected to keep the whole feast to myself.

Alistair granted me the night to pack. He promised a driver would drop me off by morning.

I dragged a sleek carry-on out of the closet. I shoved five years of black cards, diamond tennis bracelets, and Birkins inside. Everything else stayed behind. It held zero value to me.

Seattle weather loved to play cruel jokes. Last night's delicate snow morphed into a brutal downpour. Freezing rain drove into my joints like a thousand icy needles.

My phone buzzed. Paul, the head driver, cleared his throat through the speaker. "Vivienne lands today. She catches a chill easily, so Alistair ordered the entire fleet to the tarmac. You need to hike down the hill yourself."

I killed the call. I stared out the rain-streaked window. Back when I first moved in, I completely misread Alistair.

A charity gala ended in a massive thunderstorm. I assumed he left through the VIP exit. I threw my clutch over my head and dashed toward the curb to hail a cab.

Alistair materialized out of nowhere. He dragged me under the massive canopy of his golf umbrella. The storm ruined his bespoke Tom Ford suit. Yet, not a single drop touched my silk gown.

He told me he never left. He just went to grab the umbrella. A gentleman never lets a lady stand in the rain.

Chapter 3

After that storm, an umbrella always materialized over my head. It never mattered how busy Alistair got or if he flew out of the country. He never missed a single time.

I snapped back to the brutal present. A hollow laugh escaped my throat. I gripped the handle of my carry-on and stepped straight into the freezing downpour. The rain slashed my face. I needed to leave.

I could not spend my whole life waiting for a man to shield me from the storm.

Growing up, I possessed a bulletproof immune system. I gritted my teeth through fractured bones and 102-degree fevers. My parents never cared, so my body learned to survive.

This time, a little freezing rain morphed into severe pneumonia. It got bad enough to land me in the emergency room. A nurse hooked my arm up to an IV drip.

On my final day of antibiotics, a woman rushed past my plastic chair. She snagged the clear tubing. The medical tape ripped. The thick steel needle tore violently out of the back of my hand. It shredded straight through the delicate skin and veins.

A blinding flash of pain exploded behind my eyes, making my vision go black.

"Oh my god, what do I do! I just landed from Paris! I have no idea how these local urgent care clinics work. Let me call my husband to handle this!"

Alistair strode through the sliding glass doors.

My breathing stopped completely.

I dragged my gaze toward the frantic, helpless woman clinging to his tailored sleeve. I studied the familiar curve of her eyes. The exact shape of her jaw.

The truth dropped into my stomach like an anvil.

Vivienne.

Crimson droplets splattered against the sterile white linoleum. Alistair stared at my bleeding hand. The muscles in his jaw feathered. He stayed terrifyingly silent. The heavy silence stretched way too long.

Vivienne wrapped her manicured fingers tighter around his bicep. Her voice shifted into a high, sickeningly sweet register. "Honey, what is wrong? Do you know her?"

For a fraction of a second, the flawless facade shattered. A violent storm of raw, chaotic emotion bled through Alistair's dark eyes. Then the mask slammed shut. He stripped off his cashmere overcoat and draped it heavily across Vivienne's shoulders. "No. Just a stranger. The doctors will clean her up. Let me walk you back to the Maybach."

Vivienne nodded meekly. But she shot a calculated glance over her shoulder. Her eyes raked over my pathetic state. Pure, toxic triumph flashed in her gaze. The ultimate red flag.

Late that night, an unknown number lit up my brand-new burner phone. I answered. A deep, guttural sound vibrated through the speaker. His voice carried the heavy, exhausted grit of recent sex. The raw friction of vocal cords pushed to the absolute edge.

"Maren. I will have Paul drive you to a private facility tomorrow. Do not give Vivienne a reason to spiral. Have the nurses dress that hand properly. Eat something. You are wasting away."

I agreed to every single command. I sat frozen on the edge of the cheap motel mattress. I trashed my old SIM card. I vanished. Yet Alistair tracked my exact location without breaking a sweat.

Do strangers do that?

Suffocating, heavy silence dominated the line. The quiet hum of static pressed against my eardrums. I expected the sharp click of him hanging up. Then his breath hitched. A harsh, broken exhale scraped against the receiver.

"I didn't know New Year's Eve doubled as your birthday. It makes sense now. The cake. You could have stayed one more night. I apologize. Happy birthday."

No need for apologies. You already handed me the world. You gave me enough to survive. "Thank you. And congratulations on your marriage."

Chapter 4

My pneumonia required a strict five-day course of IV antibiotics. I booked a one-way flight out of Seattle.

The next morning, Paul pulled the black town car up to my motel. I waved him off. He scrambled out and popped the trunk. He practically shoved a pristine designer box into my chest. "Maren, please." Paul's voice cracked with panic. "I messed up yesterday. Just take the birthday gift. Alistair will fire me if you leave this behind."

I flipped the lid. A stunning blush-pink evening gown stared back at me. Hundreds of tiny pink diamonds weighed down the silk bodice. The original paper receipt sat right on top.

Alistair insisted on playing the generous ex. Fine. I refused to let good money go to waste. My flight boarded in three hours. Just enough time to hit the flagship boutique downtown and demand a cash refund.

But the universe possessed a sick, twisted sense of humor.

I stepped onto the marble floor of the boutique. Vivienne stood right at the VIP counter.

"I apologize, ma'am," Haley, the lead associate, stammered. "That spring haute couture piece sold out. We only carry one exclusive piece per region. A gentleman purchased it first thing this morning. Would you like to view our other collections?"

Three sales associates hovered around Vivienne like anxious bees. She dragged a hand through her flawless blowout, letting out a frustrated, entitled huff. Her cherry-red acrylic nail tapped aggressively against Haley's brass name tag. "I need that exact dress for my bridal prep. Find it. Or I will bury your corporate office in emails until they strip you of that badge."

Haley wiped a bead of sweat from her temple. She frantically typed on her tablet, whispering to a coworker to check Alistair's client file.

Vivienne's posture instantly relaxed. A smug, sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face. "My husband bought it? What a cute little misunderstanding."

I stood frozen ten feet behind her. The heavy shopping bag cut into my palm. Ice water flooded my veins. My flight instincts screamed at me to sprint out the glass doors. I spun on my heel.

I moved too slow.

Vivienne locked eyes with me through the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Her gaze dropped to the branded bag in my hand. A cold, lethal smirk ripped across her lips. She closed the distance. Her palm cracked across my cheek with explosive force. "Call the cops!" Vivienne shrieked, playing the flawless victim. "This street trash stole my husband's dress! Lock down the store!"

The sirens arrived within minutes. Alistair walked in right behind the officers. He wore a suffocating, pitch-black suit. The harsh boutique lighting caught the icy glare of his silver-rimmed glasses. His jaw locked tight. His absolute silence delivered a brutal, unspoken message.

I crossed his ultimate boundary.

The real betrayal hit a second later. Paul stood perfectly straight and looked the cops dead in the eye. He swore on his life that I broke into the town car and swiped the box.

Cold steel cuffs bit into my bruised wrists. The officers shoved me into the back of a cruiser. They tossed me into a damp, concrete holding cell at the precinct.

Heavy leather shoes echoed against the concrete floor. Alistair stopped on the other side of the iron bars. Disgust dripped from his dark eyes. "You went out of your way to trigger Vivienne. You weaponized a dress to gaslight her. Rot in here until you learn your lesson. Then get out of Seattle and never come back