Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Five and a half years ago, to save my dying mother, I signed a contract to become a wealthy heir's secret stand-in wife.

For two thousand days, I took care of Julian Vance’s every need. I raised his son, kept his home, and foolishly fell in love with him.

I thought if I gave him enough warmth, even a stone could be melted.

Until his first love, Chloe Harper, came back.

He welcomed her into our home without a second thought. He stood by as his son mocked my simple clothes, and he let the boy gift her the four hand-knit scarves I had spent years making.

That was the moment I finally woke up. Some men will never love you, no matter how much you bleed for them.

So, I signed the termination agreement, packed my bags, and booked a one-way ticket across the Atlantic.

It was time to disappear from their lives for good.

Natalie’s POV

Two thousand days ago, I signed a contract to play the devoted wife and mother to a man who didn't love me.

Two thousand days later, I sat in the grand living room of the Vance estate, sliding the termination papers across the marble coffee table to Julian’s mother, Eleanor.

I thought my heart would shatter, but when the pen hit the paper, my fingers didn't even shake.

Then my phone buzzed. It was a message from the preschool teacher with photos from today's open house.

Sitting in my designated seat was another woman. She was wearing the exact matching designer outfit I had prepped for the event weeks ago.

I stared at the photo for three seconds. Then, I turned the screen facedown and pressed my signature onto the document.

Two thousand days. Not a single day more.

Eleanor pulled the papers toward her, her manicured fingers lingering on the edge of the sheet.

"Have you really thought this through, Natalie?"

"I have," I said, capping the pen. "The contract expires today. Exactly two thousand days."

Eleanor didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her Earl Grey tea, setting the fine china cup down with a soft clink.

"What do you plan to tell Julian?"

"Nothing," I said calmly. "Our agreement is done. Whether he knows now or later makes no difference."

"And if he asks?"

"Let him ask you." I looked straight into her eyes. "You're the one who hired me, Eleanor. It’s only right that you tell him."

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

The living room fell into dead silence, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique grandfather clock.

After a long pause, Eleanor let out a weary sigh. "You've worked hard these past five years."

I didn't answer. I just checked the paperwork one last time.

"I’ll have accounting wire the final compensation to your account," Eleanor added quietly. "Every cent promised in the contract."

"No need." I stood up, pushing the folder back to her. "What you paid back then was enough to cover my mother’s medical bills. I don’t want a single penny more."

Eleanor looked up at me, pressing her lips into a thin line, but she said nothing.

I picked up my purse and turned toward the door.

"Natalie," she called out from behind me.

I stopped in my tracks, but didn't turn around.

"Have a good life."

I didn’t reply. I opened the heavy front door and stepped out.

The cool spring breeze hit my face as I stood on the porch.

I unlocked my phone again. The teacher had sent three pictures from the preschool's family event.

In the first shot, Leo was grinning with his missing front tooth, dressed in the sweater I had ironed the night before.

Crouched beside him was Chloe Harper, her arm draped around his small shoulder, flashing a camera-ready pout for the lens.

I recognized the sweater.

And I recognized her.

Chloe. Julian's unforgettable ex.

I gripped the phone tightly, standing in the driveway for a long moment as the chill settled into my bones.

My mind drifted back to the autumn I signed that paper.

My mother had been lying in the intensive care unit, the hospital bills draining every resource I had. I was crouched in the hallway corner, staring blankly at an invoice I could never afford to pay.

That was when Eleanor Vance appeared in front of me.

Her designer heels stopped right by my worn-out sneakers. I looked up to see an immaculate, stern woman looking down at me with cold calculation.

"You're Natalie Clark?"

I stood up, dusting off my jeans. "Who are you?"

"I'm Julian Vance’s mother." She glanced at the ICU doors. "I know about your mother's condition."

I remained silent, waiting for the catch.

"My son is currently on the fifth floor of this hospital," Eleanor continued evenly. "His fiancée broke up with him, and he drank himself into severe internal bleeding. The press had a field day."

I still didn't speak.

"I need someone to stay by his side. Someone to pull him out of this spiral." She pulled out a contract from her leather handbag. "The Vance family will cover all of your mother's treatments. In exchange, you will play the role of his devoted companion and domestic partner. When he's fully healed, this ends."

I looked down at the contract. It was thin, but it felt impossibly heavy.

"For how long?"

"Two thousand days to start," Eleanor said. "If he moves on by then, it terminates automatically. If not, we renegotiate."

Two thousand days. Five and a half years.

I glanced back at the ICU doors, where the pale fluorescent light hummed behind the frosted glass.

"Deal," I said.

Eleanor seemed surprised by how quickly I agreed, but she handed me the pen anyway.

I signed my name.

Back then, Julian had spent months drowning his sorrows in alcohol. He never questioned my sudden presence; he simply assumed his mother had hired another live-in housekeeper.

For the first few months, he barely spared me a word.

I cooked; he ate. I cleaned; he slept. I lay beside him in the dark, and he kept his back turned to me.

Over time, I fell for him. I foolishly believed that with enough patience, I could warm even the coldest stone.

I brought up marriage once.

He said he was too busy with Vance Enterprises and that we’d talk about it later. Later came and went, and he never mentioned it again. Neither did I.

To this day, we never obtained a marriage license.

Leo was an accident born from one drunken night.

Chloe had gone public on Instagram with her new wealthy boyfriend. Julian came home completely wasted in the middle of the night, pulled me into his arms, and whispered her name.

I didn't push him away.

After Leo was born, his attitude softened. He spoke to me more often and bought birthday cakes. I genuinely thought this was what our quiet little family was meant to be.

Until Chloe returned.

She came back asking for a second chance, and Julian didn't push her away.

Even Leo adored her. Every time she visited, he hovered around her like a puppy, closer to her than he had ever been to me.

Julian bought her limited-edition Hermès bags. He changed his lock screen to her photo. Once, I walked past the balcony and heard him talking to her on FaceTime—his voice dripping with a tender warmth he had never once offered me.

That was when the truth hit me.

Julian was capable of love. He just didn't love me.

I pulled myself out of the memories and opened my email.

A reply from a cocktail lounge in London had just arrived. They offered me a position as a head bartender, and the prestigious mixology academy nearby confirmed my enrollment.

I typed out an acceptance email, booked a flight for next Tuesday, and saved the ticket to my camera roll.

Seven things on my exit list. Two were checked off.

Accept the job offer in London—done.

Sign the termination agreement—done.

Five more things to do, and I’d be free.