His Substitute Bride I'm Done Being Her Shadow

The engagement party Millie Sullivan had waited years for didn't bring happiness. Instead, she stood watching as her fianc gently held another woman in his arms.

Mr. Gilbert, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault...

The venue was empty. Clint Gilbert's secretary, Lucille Morton, was still nestled against his chest, crying pitifully.

"I gave the guests the wrong time for the banquet, and it ruined your engagement party. Maybe I should go explain to Miss Sullivan..."

Her words dripped with remorse, but her body didn't move an inch from Clint's embrace.

"You're always so careless." Clint frowned, his voice soft with concern. "Don't cry. It's not a big deal. You're newit's perfectly normal to make a few mistakes when you're overwhelmed."

Not a big deal.

A few mistakes.

Millie's eyes burned. She clenched her jaw until it ached, refusing to let a single tear fall.

To make it back in time for this engagement party, she'd pulled all-nighters in New York for weeks. She'd sat through a fourteen-hour flight and hadn't even recovered from the jet lag, all so this night would go perfectly.

Yet to Clint, their engagement was nothing more than a minor scheduling error that didn't matter.

"Clint, you're covering for her. Is that what this is?"

Millie's voice trembled with the effort of holding herself together.

"Today is our engagement party. Do you have any idea that her 'little mistake' just destroyed three months of"

"Enough. Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

Clint cut her off, his expression flat, edged with impatience.

"She got the time wrong. So what? We'll just pick another date and redo it."

"It's an engagement, not a wedding. Why are you making such a scene?"

It's an engagement.

She almost laughed.

Millie stared at him as though seeing him for the very first time.

The commitment she had poured every ounce of herself into reaching was, to him, no different from a rescheduled business meeting.

"Then there's nothing to redo."

Her voice came out raw.

"The engagement is off."

Clint blinked, then let out a scoff, his eyes glinting with unmistakable derision.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Millie, do you really think you're that important?"

Her fingertips shook.

Wind cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows, biting into her skin. It was coldcolder even than the day she'd stood before her sister's grave and heard those words.

Millie had always known.

If Carrie Sullivan were still alive, Clint would have become her brother-in-law.

Even though Millie had met him first.

Even though Millie had fallen for him first.

After Carrie died, Clint had nearly shattered. Millie was the one who stayed by his side through all of it, quietly, without being asked.

She did his laundry, mopped his floors, cooked his meals, brewed his soups. She sat with him while he drank himself numb, listened to him mumble incoherently through the haze.

When he finally pulled himself together, she was still thereworking late beside him, navigating business dinners at his side, helping him drag his company back from the brink, piece by piece.

Slowly, Clint began to respond.

He remembered her birthday. On late nights at the office, he'd order her a warm bowl of oatmeal. On rainy days, he'd park downstairs and wait for her.

And then he said the words she'd dreamed of hearing.

"Millie, let's give this a try."

She thought she'd finally gotten through to him. That she'd earned Clint Gilbert's love.

Until the day she overheard him whispering at Carrie's headstone:

"Carrie, you're the only one I'll ever love."

"Being with Millie... it's only because her eyes look so much like yours. I needed something to hold on to. Without that, I don't think I could keep going."

Every word was a poisoned needle, stitching itself deep into her chest.

After learning the truth, Millie used expanding the overseas division as an excuse and fled the country.

During those numbingly busy days abroad, she fought to teach herself how to let go.

But then Clint proposed the engagement, and foolish hope bloomed in her again, stubborn and unwanted.

She knew Carrie would always occupy a place in his heart.

Yet she couldn't stop herself from thinking: Just a little more time. Maybe he'll finally see me for who I am.

If not for this engagement disaster, she probably could have kept lying to herself forever.

A month ago, her colleagues mentioned that Clint's new secretary was a walking catastrophe.

Lost contracts, mixed-up schedules, wrong things said to the wrong peopletrouble every single day.

Yet every time, Clint personally cleaned up the mess, guiding her with a patience Millie had never once seen him show.

Today, she finally understood why.

It was simply because that secretary looked exactly like Carrie.

Millie drew a long, slow breath, pressing down the fine, needling ache in her chest.

She turned and called the hotel manager over.

"Please cancel next month's banquet hall reservation. I'll pay double the cancellation fee."

Through it all, she didn't spare Clint or Lucille another glance. They might as well not have existed.

"Millie, are you done with this tantrum?!"

Clint's face had gone completely dark.

She didn't respond. Her gaze drifted to his left handto his ring finger.

That ring was one Millie had designed herself.

Thirty-seven drafts. Three months of revisions.

She had hidden every last piece of her love inside that diamond.

She remembered that Clint hadn't been particularly enthusiastic, but he'd accepted it all the same.

And now

Millie walked over and wrenched the ring off his finger without a second's hesitation.

Crack.

The diamond separated from the band and rolled into a corner.

Just like her five years of devotion.

Clean. Final. Irreparably destroyed.

"You've lost your mind. You've actually lost your mind! Millie, I don't have time for this."

Clint was still seething with disbelief, but Millie was already walking away without looking back.

At the same time, her finger tapped the screen of her phone without hesitation.

"Miss Sullivan, have you made up your mind?"

Three days ago, a headhunter from a company in New York had reached out to her.

She'd never replied. But now...

Millie moved her fingers slowly to the keyboard. The last faint spark behind her eyes dimmed with each keystroke, settling into silence.

"OK. See you in seven days."

Millie clung to the last shred of strength she had and went back to Clint's apartment first.

She needed to take her things.

But when she pushed the door open, everything she owned was gone. The place looked as though she'd never lived there at all.

Clint called. His voice carried that particular brand of smug certainty she knew too well.

"Still saying you're not throwing a tantrum? You came back on your own, didn't you?"

"While you were overseas these past few months, Lucy came by to help clean up. Some of your old stuff had gone bad sitting around, so she tossed it for you."

By then, Millie had already found the storage room.

The floor was littered with what had been labeled "junk."

Their matching slippers were soaked in grease stains. The framed photos of them together lay shattered across the tile. The pearl necklace Clint had once bid on at auction and given to her was reduced to loose pearls scattered everywhere.

The color drained from her face. She ran back to the bedroom and tore it apart, searching every drawer, every shelf, every corner. When she came up empty, her skin went white as paper.

Her grandmother's only keepsake was gone.

"Clint." Her voice shook. "Where's my grandmother's heirloom?"

"What heirloom? Lucy probably cleared that out too." His tone was clipped with impatience. "Don't go making a big deal out of nothing just to give her a hard time."

Her mind went blank.

Without a second thought, she turned and rushed straight to Gilbert Group headquarters.

Lucille spotted her coming and clapped a hand over her mouth in exaggerated alarm, spinning on her heel toward the conference room. "Boss, help"

The conference room door swung open. The senior executive meeting ground to an abrupt halt.

Clint was about to snap, but the moment he saw Lucille, his expression softened instantly. There was even a trace of indulgent exasperation in his voice.

"Didn't I tell you not to barge in during meetings?"

"I forgot!" Lucille stuck out her tongue and smiled, all wide-eyed innocence. "But Miss Sullivan seems really mad at me still... She followed me all the way here."

From the doorway, Millie saw everything with perfect clarity. She'd thought her heart had already gone cold and hard, but the pain still found a way through, numbing her from the inside out.

Clint lifted his gaze toward the door. The warmth vanished from his face in an instant.

"Millie."

His voice was flat with irritation. "I already told youthat stuff was junk. It's gone."

"Was it really necessary to make a scene at the office?"

Millie pressed her lips together in a bitter, self-mocking line.

All this time, she'd been naive enough to believe those things were shared memories, pieces of a life they'd built together. To Clint, they were nothing more than disposable clutter.

But that wasn't why she'd come.

Her gaze locked onto Lucille's wrist and refused to move.

There it was. Her grandmother's heirloom jade bracelet, sitting quietly against Lucille's skin.

Millie's breathing fractured.

"That's mine. Take it off."

Lucille's eyes darted sideways. "II didn't know..."

"Take it off!" Millie's voice cracked through the room like a whip.

When Lucille still didn't move, Millie grabbed her wrist and wrenched the bracelet free.

"Ah!"

Lucille shrieked and threw herself into Clint's arms.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clint's face darkened. He lunged forward to intervene.

Two forces pulled in opposite directions

Crack.

The sound split the silence of the conference room wide open.

The bracelet slipped from between them and hit the floor hard.

It shattered into pieces, scattering across the polished surface.

Millie froze where she stood.

A piercing ring flooded her ears, drowning out everything else.

"Millie..." Clint's expression seized for a moment. He reached for her, but she flinched away.

Her fingers trembled as she knelt, picking up the fragments one by one.

A jagged edge sliced into the pad of her finger. Blood seeped out, slow and red. She didn't seem to feel it.

Clint's voice was heavy with displeasure and blame.

"Would it have killed you to talk it out like an adult? Did you have to get physical? Now look what happened."

"Talk it out?" Millie lifted her head. Her eyes were shot through with red. "You're protecting a thief this much?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Lucille fired back, eyes brimming.

Clint's face hardened. He shot Lucille a suspicious glance.

Lucille panicked immediately, shaking her head over and over, tears falling faster now.

"Mr. Gilbert, I really didn't know this belonged to Miss Sullivan..."

"I thoughtI thought it was the gift you said you were going to give me. That's the only reason I wore it!"

Millie pulled out her phone and opened her photo album.

"And what about these?"

She swiped through the pictures one by one.

Slippers stomped to ruin. Frames smashed to pieces. A necklace ripped apart.

Every single item bore the unmistakable marks of deliberate destruction.

The conference room went deathly still.

Clint's jaw tightened. The color in his face shifted through several shades of livid.

Then he reached over and rapped Lucille lightly on the top of her head.

"You."

The word sounded like a scolding, but there wasn't an ounce of real anger behind it.

Lucille ducked her head between her shoulders.

Clint turned back to Millie. When he spoke again, his voice had already reset to something cool and measured.

"Lucy was out of line. I'll give you that."

"She's young. She doesn't know better. I'll apologize on her behalf."

"Whatever's broken, I'll replace it. None of it was that expensive anyway."

"As for the bracelet" He glanced at the shards in her hands. "I'll reimburse you at market value."

"Can you just be the bigger person here and stop keeping score?"

The executives around the table chimed in one after another.

"Director Sullivan, she's just a kid who doesn't know any better. No need to stoop to her level..."

"We're all colleagues here. There's no reason to let things get this ugly..."

These were the same people who used to smile and call her "Mrs. Gilbert." Now every last one of them had sided with Lucille.

Something inside Millie collapsed, quietly, piece by piece.

She raised her head again. Her voice was calm, but hollowed out with exhaustion.

"Clint, aside from this bracelet, I don't want any of it. And youI don't want you either."

Those words cost Millie every last drop of strength she had.

The sleepless nights spent grinding herself down. The thousand-mile rush to get back. The weight of everything that had just shattered in front of her. It all crashed into her at once, and her body simply gave out. She crumpled to the floor.

The room erupted into chaos.

In the last flickering moment before consciousness left her, she thought she saw Clint's face, stricken with panic, racing toward her.

When Millie opened her eyes again, she was lying in a hospital bed.

The door swung open.

Lucille walked in.

She carried an elegant gift box, a gentle smile on her lips, though her eyes gleamed with undisguised triumph.

"Miss Sullivan, you're awake." Her tone was light, almost cheerful. "I came by to check on you. Even brought you a little get-well gift."

Millie regarded her coldly. "Get out."

"I'd advise you not to push your luck. Haven't you figured it out yet?" Lucille's voice was soft as silk. "Clint only has eyes for me now. And I intend to keep it that way."

She ripped open the lid of the gift box.

A hiss split the air.

A dark shape shot out of the box.

Millie's pupils contracted. Before she could react, fangs sank into her wrist.

Searing pain exploded through her.

"Ah!"

She flung her hand back, sending the box crashing to the floor. A slender black snake slithered free and vanished beneath the bed.

Blood dripped steadily from her wrist.

But in the very next second, Lucille let out a shriek, stumbling backward and colliding with the edge of the bed. Tears spilled instantly down her cheeks.

"Miss Sullivan! Youwhy did you lash out at me like that? I only came to apologize..."

Footsteps thundered toward the door.

"Lucy!"

Clint burst in and rushed straight to her side, catching her in his arms.

"Are you all right?"

Lucille collapsed against his chest, weeping like a broken flower in the rain.

"Sir, it hurts so much... I don't know what I did to upset Miss Sullivan. She just threw the box at me out of nowhere. I really was trying to apologize..."

Her body trembled as she spoke.

Meanwhile, Millie clutched her bleeding wrist. Her face had gone chalk-white, and her breathing was already growing erratic.

"It was a snake..." Her voice shook as she reached for the emergency call button. "She put a venomous snake in that box"

"Enough!" Clint shoved Millie aside, sending her crashing to the floor.

"Do you honestly expect anyone to believe that?"

"Lucy is terrified of insects. You're telling me she went and found a venomous snake to attack you?"

"Millie, if you're going to make accusations, at least put some thought into them. How can you be this vicious?"

Millie burned with the fury of having the truth twisted inside out. She forced herself upright, scrambling toward the fallen gift box. "I'm not lying. If you don't believe me, just look"

"Stop making a scene!" Clint seized her wrist. The snakebite wound tore open, blood flowing freely. "Lucy lowered herself to come apologize and you wouldn't even accept it. Now you're bullying her on top of that? What is wrong with you?"

The venom was spreading.

Millie's whole body shook with pain.

"Clint..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Call a doctor..."

Clint frowned, noticing that the pallor of her face didn't look like an act.

But just then, Lucille let out a soft hiss and clutched her own wrist.

"I think... something scratched me just now too. It really hurts..."

Clint didn't hesitate. He scooped Lucille into his arms and strode toward the door.

"Come on. I'm taking you to get checked out."

Millie was still on the floor. She watched his retreating back, that resolute silhouette disappearing through the doorway, and a chill spread from the center of her chest outward.

She never should have expected anything.

In Clint's heart, she had always been the imperfect stand-in. How could she ever compete with a newer, better copy?

In the end, it was a nurse who found her and rushed her into emergency treatment.

By the time Millie woke again, an entire day and night had passed.

Her new supervisor in New York had sent a message saying her desk was all set up and she was welcome to start anytime.

Something dimmed behind Millie's eyes. She typed back: "About five more days. Then I'll be there."

Her new boss replied with a smiley face.

Then a notification popped up from Lucille's Instagram. Millie had followed the account out of curiosity back when she was abroad.

The photo was painfully familiar. She recognized the setting in an instant: Clint's apartment.

Lucille was curled up on the balcony lounge chair like a contented cat, languid and at ease.

Behind her, in the kitchen, Clint had his sleeves rolled to the elbows. He was focused on chopping vegetables, the lines of his profile soft and warm.

Millie stared at the photo on her phone. No surprise. No anger. Only a despair that seeped into her bones.

Since Carrie's death, Clint had never once set foot in that kitchen.

There had been one night when Millie came home late from a business dinner, her stomach churning so badly she thought she might be sick. All she wanted was a bowl of hot porridge. In the end, all Clint did was hand her a glass of warm milk.

A dull, relentless ache bloomed in her chest. She drew a deep breath and forced the tears back.

Don't cry, Millie.

That was what she told herself.

Hadn't she already decided to let go?

She inhaled slowly, then sent the resignation letter she had prepared to HR.

The HR manager panicked and fired off a string of question marks.

Millie simply replied, "Don't tell Clint yet."

She and the HR manager were on good terms, so all the woman could say was, "Just remember, you'll need to get Mr. Gilbert's signature yourself for the final approval step."

Millie agreed.

She didn't want to waste time sitting around in a hospital. It had been ages since she'd been home, and she wanted to see how her parents were doing.

She stood at the base of their apartment building, gazing up at the familiar silhouettes bustling around in the kitchen window. Her eyes stung.

Those were the outlines of her mother and father, shapes she'd known her entire life.

She'd texted them that morning, and she hadn't expected them to actually prepare a proper meal.

Ever since she was little, she'd craved their love. Had they finally moved past Carrie's death? Were they finally willing to spare even a sliver of affection for her?

But the warmth barely had time to settle before the front door swung openand there stood Lucille.

Faced with Millie's shock, Lucille was perfectly at ease. "Hey, sis. You're home."

Sis?

Millie stood frozen, her gaze drifting past Lucille to the living room, where Clint and her father, Greg Sullivan, sat on the couch, chatting like old friends.

So the person busy in the kitchen hadn't been her mother at allit had been Lucille?

Her mother, Judith Sullivan, waved a spatula from behind the stove, confirming the suspicion. "Lucy, come taste this for metell me if it needs more salt."

That tender, familiar tone. Millie hadn't heard it in this house since Carrie was alive.

Without realizing it, Millie's fingers curled inward, nails biting deep into her palms.

It wasn't until everyone was seated around the dinner table that Judith offered a casual explanation.

"Lucy and I just clicked. I've taken her in as my goddaughter. Millie, she's your little sister now. Whatever unpleasantness happened before, let's put it behind us."

"Even if you won't do it for Clint's sake, do it for your sister's."

At the mention of Carrie, Judith's eyes glistened. Greg drained his glass in one heavy swallow. Clint went still, staring at nothing.

It was Lucille who broke the silence, cracking a lighthearted joke that coaxed the mood back to life.

Millie sat motionless, a sheet of ice spreading through her chest.

Not a single dish on the table was something she liked. Every plate, every bowl, was prepared to Carrie's taste.

But unlike before, there were two new additionsseafood dishes that were clearly Lucille's favorites.

Millie had never been given that courtesy. Not once.

Lucille ate with obvious relish, and Greg and Judith fell over themselves to heap more food onto her plate.

Clint watched Lucille with a soft gaze, his eyes clouded with tender reminiscence.

The scene was a near-perfect replica of how things had been when Carrie was alive.

And Millie, as always, sat tucked in the corner, quietly scooping plain rice into her mouth. No one spared her a second glance.

So it was true. Not a single person at this table loved her.

After dinner, Millie retreated silently to her old room to pack her things. Then she heard a noise from the study next door.

Uneasy, she went to checkand found Lucille on her tiptoes, stretching for the porcelain vase on the top shelf.

It had been Carrie's most treasured possession.

Millie's heart lurched. "Don't touch thatit's fragile!"

The words had barely left her mouth when Lucille's foot slipped.

A sharp crash. The porcelain vase shattered into pieces across the floor.

Clint was the first to rush in. His eyes locked on the fragments, and the color drained from his face.

"I'm s-so sorry..." Lucille's eyes were already rimming red, her voice small and trembling. "Millie asked me to get the vase down for her, and II couldn't hold on..."

She pointed a quivering finger at Millie before Clint even had a chance to ask.

Millie looked up in disbelief. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Clint was already staring at her, his expression frigid, his eyes full of disappointment and accusation. "Millie, I know you've always resented Carrie's things, but you had no right to take it out on this."

A second later, Judith stormed in and slapped Millie hard across the face, sobbing so violently she could barely breathe. "You can't even stand to let your sister's things exist, can you?"

"Why couldn't it have been you who died instead?"

Greg arrived last. He didn't say a word, but the fury in his eyes was as solid as a fist.

No one was willing to hear a single word of her explanation.

Her cheek burned. Memories she'd spent years burying clawed their way to the surface, one after another.

Their parents had always favored Carrie. When both girls fell sick at the same time as children, Greg and Judith spent the whole night at Carrie's bedside.

Their birthdays were barely a day apart, yet only Carrie's was ever celebrated.

It wasn't until Carrie died that their parents finally turned their eyes toward Millieeven asking, on occasion, if she was tired.

She had told herself that was its own kind of reward after years of suffering.

But now, all it took was one woman who resembled her sister's personality, and every last one of them fell right back under the spell.

Millie pressed her hand to her stinging cheek and laugheda low, hollow sound. Then she pulled out her phone and opened a video recording.

The video had captured the entire incident in crystal-clear detail.

Millie still wore a smile, but it was bone-chillingly cold, laced with undisguised mockery. "She keeps pinning one thing after another on me, and I'm not about to play along with her little act. I don't remember my sister ever being so eager to shift blame."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

"If you're going to find a replacement for Carrie, you could at least set the bar a little higher."

Greg and Judith's faces darkened, their expressions so stormy they could have wrung water from the air.

Clint lowered his gaze in silence, a storm of emotions churning behind his eyes. Anger, yes, but also a thread of irritation he couldn't quite name.

The old Millie had always bent over backward to please her parents, to please him. What had changed?

Before the thought could fully form, Lucille burst into tears again.

Millie watched it happen. The three people who had just worn such varied expressions instantly softened in unison at the sound of that single sob, crowding around Lucille, falling over themselves to comfort her in gentle voices.

The divide was stark. Millie stood on the other side of it, the only outsider.

Her heart clenched again, every breath dragging a dull ache through her chest.

She kept smiling, as if steeling herself for something.

"Since none of you seem to mind the substitution, why not just have Lucille change her last name to Sullivan and marry Clint herself? Wouldn't that make everyone happy?"

She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

"You ungrateful brat! We say a few words to you and you dare threaten us?"

"If you've got the nerve, drop the Sullivan name! If you've got the nerve, walk out that door and never come back!"

The insults chased her like shadows. Millie pressed her hands over her ears and walked faster.

Eventually she broke into a run.

She didn't stop until her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the ground.

Maybe this is for the best. At least now she could leave with nothing holding her back.

With no home left to return to, Millie stayed at a hotel.

She planned to go back to the office and finish her resignation paperwork.

But Clint never showed up. Lucille had vanished too.

Word was they'd gone on a business trip together.

Officially, it was to meet with a client about a partnership. But Lucille's social media told a far more colorful story.

Strolling through streets. Candlelit dinners. Between every overwrought caption, she broadcast Clint's blatant favoritism for all the world to see.

Colleagues cast complicated glances Millie's way. She pretended not to notice and kept working through what was left on her desk.

Even though Clint hadn't signed off yet, she dutifully found someone to hand her responsibilities over to. A clean break, as amicable as she could make it.

Only three days remained. Millie packed up her personal belongings and had just stepped out of her office when

Slam.

A file hit the floor at her feet.

Clint's face was thunderous, his voice barely containing his fury. "Millie Sullivan, did you leave your brain overseas? You got core data wrong. Are you trying to drag the entire company down with you?"

Millie blinked, then bent to pick up the file.

One glance was all it took. Her brow furrowed.

This wasn't the version she'd signed off on.

She looked up, her tone level. "This data has been tampered with."

"And now you want to dodge responsibility? You have the guts to do it but not to own it?" Clint stared at her with open disappointment.

Lucille spoke up as if summoning her courage. "Miss Sullivan, do you have any idea how much the company stands to lose because of one altered figure?"

A colleague nearby couldn't hold back. "Mr. Gilbert, the data Director Sullivan verified at the time was correct"

"Shut up." Clint cut them off, his tone razor-sharp. "You're one of hers. Of course you'd cover for her."

Millie looked at him, and something close to a laugh stirred in her chest.

From Lucille's schemes to company matters, every single time a problem surfaced, Clint convicted her without a shred of evidence.

All those years by his side, and he wouldn't grant her even a sliver of trust?

She drew a slow breath, still holding her patience together. "Fine. Let's say people can lie. But the system logs don't. One look at the workflow records"

Lucille jumped in immediately. "The cloud drive just crashed. The tech team is working on it, but all recent files are gone."

What impeccable timing for a crash.

The warmth drained from Millie's eyes degree by degree. She turned her gaze on Clint, and all that remained in it was contempt.

Something tightened in his chest under that look, but he pressed on. "Fine. Everyone makes mistakes. We'll let this go for now, but don't let it happen ag"

"That won't be necessary."

Millie reached up and unclipped her badge in one swift, decisive motion.

"Since I've already lost all credibility in your eyes, Mr. Gilbert, there's no point in me staying at this company."

She held out the resignation letterthe one that needed only his final signature to be complete.

"I quit."

The air in the room went still.

Clint stared at the thin sheet of paper, and a sudden wave of panic gripped his chest. Something was slipping out of his control, and the feeling gnawed at him without reason.

This company had consumed so much of Millie's effort. Years of her blood and sweat poured into every corner of it.

Could she really bear to walk away?

"Millie, what kind of stunt are you pulling now?" He frowned. "First you threaten me with calling off the engagement, and now you're threatening me with your resignation?"

Lucille stamped her foot beside him. "Miss Sullivan knows perfectly well the company can't function without her. Is this some kind of power play?"

Clint's expression turned cold, as though her words had flipped a switch. He let out a derisive laugh.

"Fine, Millie. You've really grown bold."

He snatched the resignation letter from her hands. Without so much as reading it, he scrawled his signature across the bottom.

"You want to leave? Then leave. Don't come crawling back, because even if you beg, I might not take you back!"

The moment the pen hit the paper, the last flicker of anything Millie still felt for him went dark.

She pulled out her phone. Right there, in front of everyone, she dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Mr. Qian, it's me. Millie Sullivan."

The other end picked up quickly, the tone polite. "Director Sullivan, about the contract, we were just about to"

"The contract is off the table." Her voice was perfectly level. "The data was compromised. The partnership is canceled."

The conference room plunged into dead silence.

Clint's face drained of color. "Millie, what the hell are you doing?!"

Millie didn't so much as glance at him.

The voice on the other end faltered. "Director Sullivan, this"

"Also," she added, her tone unhurried, "I've resigned from Gilbert Group. This project is no longer my concern."

She hung up.

"Millie!" Clint lost all composure, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. "Do you have any idea what this project is worth? You're treating a company partnership like a joke?!"

Millie looked at him, her gaze ice-cold.

"I was cutting the company's losses."

She paused, and the faintest trace of mockery curved her lips.

"After all, you can't even tell the difference between what's real and what's fake."

Clint's expression froze.

"And I have never once threatened you." Her voice didn't waver. "The resignation is real. Calling off the engagement is real."

She turned on her heel and walked out without a backward glance.

Her start date at the new company was just two days away.

She threw herself into her final goodbyes. Colleagues she'd grown close to, friends she'd be leaving behindone farewell dinner after another. Words of reluctance and affection filled her ears, slowly washing away the exhaustion and grievances she'd carried for so long.

She never expected that before leaving the country, she'd cross paths with Clint one last time.

She had stepped out to get some air after a few drinks when Clint and Lucille emerged from around a corner.

Lucille's lips were flushed, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

What had just happened between them needed no explanation.

Lucille slipped back into the private room first. Clint seemed to be deliberately staggering his exit, but the moment he looked up, he saw Millie. A flash of shock and guilt crossed his face.

Millie took it all in. She simply gave a calm nod and moved to walk past him.

That nameless unease seized Clint's chest again.

How could Millie act as though none of this mattered?

The memory of how he'd treated her these past few days surfaced, and a thread of guilt flickered in his eyesso faint he didn't even notice it himself.

He was about to reach for her hand when Lucille came stumbling toward them.

Her hands were covered in blood. Her face was white as chalk.

"Mr. Gilbert, I've done something terrible. I think I killed Mr. Neal."

Every muscle in Clint's body went rigid. Millie was instantly forgotten. His voice shook. "What happened?!"

"Mr. Neal kept forcing me to drink, and then he tried to grope me..." Lucille sobbed, tears streaming down her face like rain on blossoms. "I grabbed a bottle and hit him over the head. He collapsed, and there was blood everywhere..."

Between her broken sobs, Clint pulled her into his arms, his heart aching. "Don't be scared, Lucy. I'll handle it. That old creep Myron Neal had it coming. This is my faultI never should have let you go in there alone..."

Lucille cried harder. "Mr. Gilbert, I can't go to prison. I'm so scared..."

Millie's brow furrowed, but she said nothing. She turned and walked away.

The next morning, when she woke up in her hotel room, her parents were standing at the door.

There were no pleasantries. Greg's voice was an order that left no room for argument. "You're going to take the blame for Lucille."

Millie's head snapped up. She was sure she'd misheard. "What did you just say?!"

Judith cut in, her tone sharp with impatience. "That Mr. Neal is still unconscious. His family is threatening to call the police."

"I'm not doing it."

She had long since stopped hoping for her parents' love. But hearing them demand she take the fallher eyes still burned, reddening against her will.

Crack.

Judith's palm connected with her face.

"If you'd had any ability at allif you could have held on to Clintwould things have gotten this bad? Honestly, I wish Lucille were our daughter instead. She's more like Carrie than you ever were. She's better at keeping Clint happy than you could ever dream of being."

"You're going today whether you like it or not."

Millie barely had time to register the danger before a sharp pain exploded at the back of her neck.

The last thing she heard, as consciousness slipped away, was her parents' relieved murmuring. "Lucille is just like Carrie. How could we let her suffer..."

The iron door slammed shut with a cold, metallic clang that pierced her eardrums.

The stench of sweat, mildew, and disinfectant mingled in the air, so thick it burned the inside of her nose.

Millie curled up on the freezing slab of a bed, the officer's words still ringing in her ears.

"Millie Sullivan, you are under formal arrest on suspicion of aggravated assault. The evidence is conclusive."

Conclusive evidence?

Identified by her own fianc. Delivered by her own parents. All to protect her sister's glorified lookalike. They had thrown her away without a second thought.

The other inmates jeered openly, their eyes raking over her with a cocktail of jealousy, contempt, and undisguised malice.

"Well, well. The fiance of Gilbert Group's CEO. Guess her own family turned her in."

Water came next. Bucket after bucket, ice-cold, dumped over her head.

Millie tried to call out for the guards, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could make a sound. Then the fists came down like rain.

By evening, she was burning with fever. Her only meal had been knocked to the floor by the other women, the rice scattered across the filthy concrete.

All Millie could do was curl tighter into herself.

Her throat had gone raw hours ago. No voice left to cry out with.

No tears left to shed.

Clint finally deigned to appear the following afternoon.

"Millie!" He rushed over and pulled her into his arms. "It's over. Everything's been taken care of."

He seemed quite pleased with himself. Myron Neal, the man Lucille had struck with the bottle that night, owed Millie a favor from years back. Once he regained consciousness and confirmed there was no chance of successfully pressing charges against Lucille, he signed the settlement letter immediately.

"But if Lucille had been the one sitting in a cell, Myron might not have been so generous. Besides, she only did what she did for the sake of the job."

How laughable.

Even though she had already guessed the truth, hearing him say it out loud still drew a bitter laugh from Millie's lips.

The laughter crumbled halfway through, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Clint, the person you've always loved is my sister. Now that you've found an even better stand-in, why won't you just let me go?"

"What are you talking about? Stand-in? That's ridiculous."

He turned his face away, guilt flickering across his features. "I was just looking out for a new employee. Stop overthinking this. I'll throw you a proper engagement party in a couple of days. I promise there won't be any mix-ups this time. And if it really bothers you that much, once we're officially engaged, I'll let Lucille go. Okay?"

"Whatever."

Millie couldn't be bothered to argue anymore.

Clint mistook her silence for surrender. With exaggerated tenderness, he drove her back to the hotel.

They had barely sat down before his phone rang again.

That familiar, teary voice on the other end. Lucille's signature whimper. Clint's expression softened without him even realizing it. He murmured reassurances until the call ended, then reached for Millie's hand again, half-nervous.

"Millie, I can't wait to show the world how happy we are. Let's move the engagement party up to tomorrow. What do you say?"

"Fine."

"I'll pick you up in the morning?"

"Fine."

Millie answered with flat indifference, not bothering to call out such a transparent lie.

Lucille certainly lived up to her reputation as a walking disaster, barreling down the path of recklessness without ever slowing down.

Millie didn't ask Clint to stay. She watched in silence as his figure vanished from sight at record speed.

Off to comfort his precious darling, no doubt.

But none of that had anything to do with her anymore.

Still, the people who had framed her shouldn't expect to walk away unscathed.

In the back of the taxi, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number with care.

"Mrs. Nora Neal? Hello. I have something I'd like to share with you... Yes, that's right. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow was going to be quite the spectacle.

Too bad she wouldn't be there to see it.

Today was her last day. She was really leaving. And now that the moment had come, Millie felt no heartbreak at all. Only relief.

The taxi pulled away toward the airport. At a certain intersection, it passed Clint's car heading in the opposite direction.

Like two lines that had briefly crossed at a single point.

From here on out, their paths led to different horizons, and there was no reason for them to meet again.