At my engagement party, my fiancé was suddenly replaced by five identical-looking strangers. "Chloe, aren't you face-blind? If you can find me among them, the wedding goes on as planned." Tristan's voice dripped with cold amusement from the recording playing in my earpiece. "But if you guess wrong, the wedding is off. I don't want a wife who can only recognize her husband by sniffing his clothes like a dog." I stood there, clutching the bouquet. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the faces of the five men standing in front of me. Because I knew, without a doubt, that Tristan was not among them. Just as I was about to make an excuse to slip away, the audio file automatically played the next clip. "Tristan, if Chloe finds out you ditched her own engagement party to get a marriage certificate with Sienna, won't she..." a friend's voice asked on the recording. Tristan interrupted him, his tone sharp and impatient. "Sienna has late-stage cancer. Her last wish in this life is to marry me. How could I say no to her?" "As for Chloe? She's been chasing me for ten years. She's too obsessed with me to ever break up over something like this." My heart shattered. The white roses in my hands slipped through my fingers, scattering across the polished floor. So, from the very beginning, Tristan never intended to marry me. If that was the case, I would gladly step aside. I raised my hand and pointed directly at one of the five men. "Excuse me," I said, my voice shaking but clear. "Would you marry me instead?"
The banquet hall erupted into a frenzy of whispers. The man I pointed at froze. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips as the other four men quickly backed away. "Miss Vance, I am definitely not Tristan." I lowered my gaze, digging my fingernails deep into my palms. "I know..." "But can you help me play along? I will pay you. Once this is over, if you want a divorce, I will agree immediately." The man stared at me for a long beat. Then, he pulled a sleek diamond ring from his pocket and slowly, deliberately, slid it onto my ring finger. "Deal," he whispered. He leaned down, his voice brushing against my ear. "But as for the payment... I'll decide the price later." A strange, inexplicably familiar scent drifted from him, but my mind was too chaotic to place it. "The wedding will be in seven days. I'll pick you up then." I blinked in surprise, but nodded anyway. After all, the sooner this nightmare ended, the better. By the time I managed to escape the prying questions of the guests, night had fallen. I returned to the penthouse I shared with Tristan. As expected, it was dead silent. He hadn't come home. I let out a long sigh, massaging my aching legs, and collapsed onto the sofa. I figured I should at least let him know. In seven days, I was getting married too. I unlocked my phone. Tristan hadn't replied to a single one of my Snapchats. With trembling fingers, I opened Instagram. A bright red marriage certificate flashed on my screen, burning my eyes. Sienna had posted it. "My days are numbered, but at least I get to stand by his side as his wife at the very end. No regrets." In the photo, Tristan was smiling so gently, his eyes crinkled with warmth, though the rims were slightly red, as if he had just cried. The screen went dark, then lit up again. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, it was real. Sienna—my once best friend who had fled to Europe three years ago after her family went bankrupt—was now Tristan's wife. Suddenly, a loud, frantic knocking rattled the front door. I quickly grabbed a tissue, wiped my tears, and dragged my exhausted body to open it. Tristan stood on the threshold. Rainwater was dripping from his hair, but his arms were wrapped tightly around someone else. "Chloe! There are bags in the trunk. Hurry up and bring them up for me!" Before I could even speak, Tristan pushed past me, carrying Sienna up the stairs toward the master bedroom. By the time I dragged the last heavy suitcase inside, I was soaked to the bone and shivering violently from the cold. "Chloe, thank you so much for bringing our bags up. You must be freezing." I snapped my head up. A sickeningly sweet scent of expensive perfume hit my nose. Sienna's face was painted pale, but her makeup was flawless. Not a single strand of her hair was wet. She held out a warm mug of cocoa toward me. "Drink this quickly. We don't want you catching a cold." Tristan frowned, immediately guiding Sienna to sit on the sofa. "Don't worry about her. A little rain won't kill her. Sit down, Sienna. I'll make you some porridge in a minute." My hand trembled, spilling some of the hot cocoa onto my skin. It burned, leaving a bright red mark on my wrist. Did I have to be dying to deserve his concern? Or was I just not worth it to him? "Chloe, there's something I need to tell you," Tristan said, holding Sienna as if she were a fragile glass doll that would shatter at any moment. "Sienna has terminal cancer." "For the short time she has left, we are going to take care of her." I stood frozen, holding the mug like a statue. "When... when did you get diagnosed?" My voice was so hoarse I barely recognized it. Sienna coughed weakly into a tissue. "Just this month. It was detected very late." "I wasn't going to tell you. I didn't want to ruin your engagement party." "But the pain became too much, and I didn't have anyone else to turn to in Europe. So I called Tristan. I didn't expect him to fly over and drop everything. Chloe, you aren't mad, are you?" Watching Sienna lean weakly against Tristan's chest felt completely surreal. When we were sixteen, Sienna was the one who encouraged me to chase Tristan. She helped me lose weight, taught me how to do my makeup, and planned "accidental" run-ins for us. And now, in less than twenty-four hours, she had married him behind my back, leaving me to be ridiculed at my own engagement party. Tristan let out a cold snort. "Mad? What right does she have to be mad?" "She couldn't even recognize her own fiancé at the party. Does a woman like that even have the right to get angry?" The memory of the humiliation from this morning flashed in my mind, making my knuckles turn white. "So... you two got married?"
Sienna suddenly choked on her drink. "Tristan... I... I was just so happy. I forgot to hide my Instagram post from Chloe." "It's fine. She was going to find out sooner or later anyway," Tristan said, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "Chloe, since you already know, I won't lie to you." He lifted Sienna's left hand, showing off their matching platinum wedding bands. "Sienna and I are legally married. For her remaining days, I will stand by her as her husband." "Okay," I said. My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Tristan blinked, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes. "But I also have something to tell you," I continued, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm getting married too." The living room fell into a dead silence. "You? Married?" Tristan's lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Do you even know which man you're marrying?" "It doesn't matter. He recognizes me. And he doesn't play sick games to test me." Hearing this, Tristan burst into a harsh laugh. "Stop playing around, Chloe. You've been obsessed with me for ten years. Is there even another man in your life?" "You don't even have the social skills to meet anyone else. How are you going to get married? By spraying them with perfume so you can sniff your way to the altar?" Sienna piped up in a soft, patronizing voice. "Chloe, I know you're hurting, but you shouldn't lie about something like this..." Tristan waved his hand dismissively, picking Sienna up in his arms. "Chloe, I am Sienna's husband now. So, you'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight." "No, Tristan, please," Sienna protested weakly, clinging to his neck. "I'm dying anyway. I don't want to ruin your relationship. I'll just sleep on the couch." Tristan only held her tighter. "Sienna, you are my legal wife. This penthouse is your home. The mistress of the house does not sleep on the couch." With that, he walked straight into the master bedroom, closing the door without giving me a single backward glance. My knees buckled, and I sank onto the floor. I looked around the living room. Every single piece of furniture, every painting, every curtain had been carefully chosen by me for our future home. But in the end, there was no room for me in this house. I stumbled to my feet, heading to the kitchen cabinet to find some fever medicine. From the master bedroom, Tristan's soft, gentle murmurs drifted out. The bitter taste of the pill dissolved on my tongue. He had never once spoken to me in that tone. After a quick shower, I crawled into the small guest bed, wrapping the duvet tightly around myself. Just sleep, I told myself. In a few days, you'll leave this place forever. The next morning, I woke up just as the sun was rising. My head felt heavy and hot, but sleep was impossible. I walked out to the living room. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and I could hear Sienna's muffled voice from inside. "Richard, I have a follow-up appointment in a few days. Make sure you forge the medical records perfectly. Swap my meds for vitamins. Tristan doesn't know anything about medicine; he believes whatever I say." Sienna's voice was low, but in the quiet morning, every word cut through the air like a knife. "Once Tristan helps pay off my family's debts, you'll get a huge cut of the money." My hands began to shake uncontrollably. I pushed the bathroom door wide open. Sienna gasped, her eyes widening in temporary panic. But she quickly recovered, hanging up the phone and casually dabbing pale foundation onto her face to make herself look sicker. "Why... why are you lying to him?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "Because... I need the money," Sienna said, putting down her makeup brush and looking at her deathly pale reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. "Honestly, I was surprised too. You chased him for ten years, but all it took was one phone call from me for him to pay my debts and abandon you. I guess he never really loved you, did he?" A metallic taste rose in my throat. "Stop lying to him. I... I can help you pay your debts. Just stop this." Sienna stared at me, then burst into a mocking laugh. "You? Help me? Chloe, did you forget? Before my family went bankrupt, we were worth ten times what your family is!" She stepped closer, looking down at me with pure disdain. "Even if I have to live like a dog now, I don't need your pity!" Suddenly, Tristan's voice echoed from the hallway. "Sienna? Are you in there? Are you feeling okay?" Sienna's eyes narrowed instantly. With a sudden, violent sweep of her arm, she knocked all her cosmetics off the counter. Bottles shattered on the tile floor as she threw herself down, screaming. "I'm sorry, Chloe! I know I don't have much time left! Once Tristan and I have our wedding, I'll go away and die in peace! I won't get in your way anymore!" The bathroom door was kicked open with a loud bang. Tristan lunged inside, shoving me hard against the wall as he scooped a sobbing Sienna into his arms. "Chloe! Sienna is supposed to be your best friend! How could you be so cruel—" Tristan's voice suddenly cut off.
Bright red blood began to drip onto the white tiles, pooling into a small puddle. My forehead had slammed against the sharp edge of the wall cabinet. My vision went blurry, and Tristan's face seemed to split into multiple overlapping shadows. Tristan's lips parted, a flash of pure guilt washing over his face. But his hands remained firmly wrapped around Sienna. I don't know how long I lay there before I managed to crawl out of the bathroom and onto the living room sofa. By the time Tristan came out of the bedroom, I was silently dabbing antiseptic on my cut. He walked over quickly, reaching out to take the cotton swab from my hand. I tilted my head, quietly dodging his touch. Tristan's hand froze in mid-air. He looked at me with a complicated expression. "I didn't mean to shove you that hard," he muttered, lowering his hand with a sigh. "I know your personality. You wouldn't have pushed her." "But she doesn't have much time left, Chloe. Just go along with it and apologize to her, please?" My hand froze. I looked at Tristan, feeling as if I was seeing him for the very first time. "Tristan," I said, taking a deep breath. "What if I told you Sienna doesn't have cancer?" Tristan stiffened. Then, his gaze drifted away, his expression hardening. "Do you have to be this petty?" I turned my head away, refusing to say another word. Tristan stood there in silence for a moment before turning and walking into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he placed a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of me. "Eat something. We're going to take Sienna to her wedding photoshoot later." "After all, this might be the last time the three of us are together." I stared at the oatmeal, a wave of bitter nostalgia washing over me. During our freshman year of college, I got terribly sick. The doctors couldn't find the cause. My parents were stuck abroad on business, so Sienna used her family's connections to get me the best specialists. Tristan had brought me to his place to take care of me, ordering his chefs to make whatever I wanted. But back then, I threw up everything I ate. I was practically skin and bones. In a panic, Tristan, who had never stepped foot in a kitchen in his life, spent an entire day researching recipes until he managed to make a bowl of oatmeal that wasn't burnt. Back then, I was so touched by that simple bowl of oatmeal that I cried, promising myself I would stay by his side forever. But my ten years of devotion had only earned me a double betrayal. "I'm not going," I said quietly. Tristan's face darkened. "Chloe..." "You two are legally married. What would I be doing there? Giving people a free show?" My voice was incredibly calm. Even I was surprised by how numb I felt. I guess once you're completely drained of love, there's no room left for anger. "Tristan, I'm ready! Can we go now?" Sienna stepped out of the bedroom, wearing a beautiful white dress, her eyes shining with excitement. Tristan stared at me for one last long second before turning around and walking out the door with Sienna. The penthouse fell silent. I reached up to touch my forehead. My skin felt burning hot. I couldn't stay here any longer. I swallowed a couple of fever reducers, grabbed my suitcase, and began packing my things. My head throbbed, and my breath felt like fire, but I didn't stop. I had to leave before they came back. "Chloe? Are you leaving?" Sienna's voice suddenly echoed behind me. I kept packing, not even bothering to look back. "Chloe, can you hand me my perfume from the vanity? I forgot to pack it," Sienna asked, her voice dripping with sweet innocence. "Don't you have hands?" I replied coldly. Sienna gasped softly, a venomous look flashing across her face. I walked into the guest bedroom to grab my last jacket. Just as I turned around, a heavy mist of perfume was sprayed directly into my face. Sienna stood at the doorway, pressing the nozzle repeatedly, targeting my face. My lungs instantly seized. Every breath became a sharp, wheezing battle. "Oh dear, Chloe. What's wrong? You look so pale," Sienna mocked, tossing the perfume bottle into the trash can. The sweet smile on her face vanished, replaced by a cold sneer. I collapsed onto my knees, clutching my throat. My airway felt like it was being strangled by a wire. I could only make high-pitched, desperate wheezing sounds. Suddenly, the front door burst open, and Tristan's panicked voice echoed through the apartment. "Chloe! Are you having an asthma attack?!"
Tristan finally looked terrified. He dashed to the medicine cabinet, frantically tossing bottles aside until he found my rescue inhaler. "Chloe! Quick, use this—" "Tristan... my stomach hurts... I think... something is wrong," Sienna suddenly whimpered, clutching her abdomen and collapsing onto the floor. Tristan whipped his head around, his eyes darting frantically between me and Sienna. Finally, he clenched his teeth and threw the inhaler toward me. "Chloe, hang on! I'll call an ambulance for you!" He scooped Sienna up in his arms and bolted out of the penthouse. He didn't look back. Not even once. I crawled desperately across the floor, my fingers trembling as I grabbed the inhaler. I shoved it into my mouth and pressed down. Nothing. I pressed it again, harder. Still nothing. It was completely empty. The plastic canister slipped from my hand, rolling into the dark corner under the cabinet. Cold sweat soaked my shirt. My lips were turning a dark shade of blue. My lungs screamed for oxygen, but no air would enter. As my vision began to fade into black, the ring on my finger suddenly flashed a bright, steady light. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I guess... I won't make it to the seventh day. In the hospital hallway, Tristan paced back and forth, clutching his phone. On his way to the hospital with Sienna, he had called a private medical team to rush to the penthouse. "I left her the inhaler, and the doctors are on their way. She'll be fine," Tristan muttered to himself, trying to shake the image of my suffocating face from his mind. Thirty minutes later, his phone rang. "Mr. Carter, we searched the entire penthouse. Miss Vance is not here." The blood drained from Tristan's face. "What do you mean she's not there?!" he roared into the phone. "She was having an asthma attack! Where could she have gone?!" "We don't know, sir. But when we arrived, the only thing we found was an empty inhaler on the floor." Tristan's head spun. He took two steps back, nearly losing his balance. Empty? How could it be empty? All the inhalers in the cabinet were brand new. "Expand the search! Check every hospital emergency room in the city!" Tristan opened his Snapchat chat with me. He realized I had sent him several messages the day before, none of which he had replied to. He dialed my number. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable..." His hand shook violently. He redialed, again and again, but the automated voice was all he got. Tristan sank onto a plastic chair in the waiting room. He waited from noon until midnight before the medical team called back. "Mr. Carter... a local hospital admitted a female patient with severe asthma and a high fever this afternoon." Tristan's body went rigid. The day before, he had been so focused on Sienna that he had forced me to carry heavy bags in the pouring rain. "Is she okay?!" Tristan demanded, his heart hammering against his ribs. There was a long, suffocating silence on the other end of the line. "They... they couldn't revive her. She's gone."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "NovelMaster" app ? search for "448297", and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster