3 Years as His Stand-In Girlfriend

At a gala, Ethan was drunk. He slid a diamond ring onto my finger. Just when I thought he was proposing, he whispered another woman's name: "Sera..." But my heart didn't break.

After all, I was just his hired girlfriend. My only job was to play the part of Seraphina. The next morning, Ethan woke up sober.

Looking at the ring on my hand, he snapped, "Take it off. It doesn't belong to you." I quickly slipped it off and placed it on the nightstand. "Mr.

Vance, you put it on me last night." "According to our contract, I cannot refuse anything you give me." My threeyear contract with Ethan was almost up. I glanced at the calendar.

Only one month left. And I had finally saved enough money to save the man I actually loved. He picked up the ring and carefully placed it back into a velvet jewelry box.

It was a family heirloom from his late mother, meant for his first love, Sera. "Did we... sleep together last night?" he asked, his voice husky.

I was kneeling on the carpet, gathering his scattered suit jacket and tie. I looked up and gave him the gentle, perfect smile I had practiced a thousand times. "Don't worry, Mr.

Vance. You passed out the moment you got home. Nothing happened, and you didn't say a word." That was what he liked most about me.

I was obedient, knew my place, didn't ask questions, and didn't remember what I shouldn't. His expression softened slightly, and he walked into the bathroom.

I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the kitchen to make him breakfast. As I set the table, Ethan's personal assistant arrived with fresh clothes and a piece of news. "Mr.

Vance, Miss Miller's return flight is booked. She arrives on the 3rd of next month." Ethan froze while buttoning his cuffs.

His cold, stern face instantly softened, showing a rare trace of nervous excitement. "The 3rd... That's less than a month away," he murmured.

Then he turned to look at me, his gaze becoming complex and critical. I knew what he was thinking. The real Sera was coming back.

It was time for the cheap knockoff to exit the stage. For three years, I had worn the dresses Sera liked, kept my hair long like hers, and even wore her favorite perfume.

I was her perfect shadow. But shadows can never exist in the light. "Clara," Ethan said, his tone cold and dismissive. "Move into the penthouse uptown this month.

Stay out of my sight unless I call you." "Of course, Mr. Vance." I agreed without a second thought.

My ready compliance actually made him frown. "And once the contract ends, I don't want to see you in New York ever again." "Understood. I will disappear completely.

I won't cause any trouble for you or Miss Miller." I pushed the fresh toast and coffee toward him. "It's the perfect temperature. Have some before you leave.

It will help your stomach." Ethan stared at my submissive smile, looking uncomfortable. He probably expected me to cry, scream, or beg him not to throw me away. But I didn't.

In fact, I was doing the math in my head. The 3rd of next month. That was the exact day my threeyear contract ended.

Once the final payment of fifty million dollars hit my account, I would gladly stop serving this moody billionaire.

After drinking his coffee, Ethan tossed a black card onto the table. "Go buy some decent clothes. I'm taking you to a party in a few days.

It'll be the last time." He paused, scanning me with a mocking look. "Don't embarrass me. And lose that pathetic, submissive look.

Sera would never look so desperate." I picked up the card with both hands, my eyes crinkling with a sweet smile. "Thank you, Mr. Vance.

I'll make sure to practice." As long as the money was guaranteed, I didn't care. I'd bark like a dog if he paid me enough.

The "party" Ethan mentioned was a gathering of his wealthy, spoiled friends. It was held at The Elysium Club, the most exclusive VIP lounge in Manhattan.

When I walked in wearing a newly bought white haute couture gown, clinging to Ethan's arm, the entire lounge fell silent.

Then, the teasing started. "Whoa, Ethan, did you bring Sera?" "That's Clara, not Sera." "Honestly, dressed up like that, she's a dead ringer for her.

No wonder Ethan's kept her around for three years." The speaker was Julian Ward, Ethan's childhood friend and the person who despised me the most.

To him, I was just a gold digger who sold her dignity for cash, a placeholder while Ethan's real girl was gone. Ethan didn't deny it. He just led me to the main booth.

I smoothly grabbed the bottle and started pouring drinks for everyone, keeping my posture low and polite. "Clara, I heard Sera is coming back.

What are you going to do now?" Julian smirked, swirling his glass, waiting for a show. Everyone in the room turned their eyes on me.

They loved watching a poor substitute get discarded and cry. My hands remained perfectly steady. I didn't spill a single drop. "That is up to Mr. Vance.

I will do whatever he decides." Julian snorted. "Stop pretending. You must be screaming on the inside. You've enjoyed three years of luxury.

Are you really ready to just let go?" He suddenly reached out and twirled a lock of my hair, his voice dripping with condescension. "Tell you what.

If Ethan doesn't want you anymore, why don't you come to me?

I might not be as rich as him, but I can easily give you ten thousand a month in pocket money." The room erupted in laughter.

Ethan leaned back on the leather sofa, a cigarette between his fingers. Through the smoke, I couldn't read his expression, but he did nothing to stop it.

He enjoyed this feeling of total control.

I scoffed inwardly, but put on a terrified look, shrinking closer to Ethan. "Please don't joke like that, Julian." Satisfied by my reliance on him, Ethan finally brushed Julian's hand away. "Alright, leave her alone.

She scares easily." He flicked his ashes. "She's been with me for three years and did her job. We're parting on good terms.

Don't make it ugly." Julian shrugged. "Fine, if you say so. But Clara, you need to know your place. Take your money and run.

Don't go begging him to stay." I nodded meekly. "I understand, Julian." Halfway through the night, Ethan stepped out to take a call. I didn't need to guess—it was about Sera.

The moment he left, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Julian ordered me to peel grapes for him and even deliberately flicked cigarette ash onto the hem of my white dress.

I didn't say a word. I just took it. It wasn't because I didn't have a temper. Ethan bought this dress anyway, so I didn't have to pay to clean it.

More importantly, every bit of humiliation I endured now was just fueling my drive to get that fifty million dollars. Just then, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from the hospital: [Mr. Taylor's condition is unstable. His vitals are dropping.

We need to prepare for the second surgery as soon as possible, along with the postop antirejection meds.

Estimated additional cost is five hundred thousand dollars.] Five hundred thousand. And that was just the immediate gap.

Combined with what I already owed and the massive rehab fees needed to make sure Lucas woke up... I couldn't lose a single dime of that fifty million.

My fingers tightened around my phone. "What are you looking at? Ethan's gone, and you're not even trying to entertain us?" Julian kicked my shin impatiently.

I hid my phone and looked up. For a split second, I forgot to hide the coldness in my eyes.

Julian froze. "What's with that look?" In the next second, I went back to being the timid, submissive girl. "Nothing. Just wondering when Mr.

Vance will be back." Right then, Ethan pushed the door open. He looked furious, almost frantic. "We're leaving." He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up so hard it hurt. "Mr.

Vance, what's wrong?" Once in the car, Ethan slammed on the gas. The sports car roared down the street. "Sera's flight got bumped up.

She lands tomorrow," he said through gritted teeth. "You're packing and moving out tonight."

When Ethan was in a rush, he couldn't wait a single second. We sped back to the villa.

He didn't even turn off the engine, just stared at me coldly from the driver's seat. "Go upstairs and pack. Only take what is yours.

Do not touch a single thing I bought you." "You have one hour." Any other woman who had been with him for three years would have had her heart broken by such a cruel demand.

But I only felt sweet relief. "Of course, Mr. Vance. I'll be quick." I opened the door and practically skipped out of the car.

This luxury villa was nothing but a suffocating prison to me. It was filled with Sera's ghost, and I was just the maid hired to keep her memory alive.

I went to my room and pulled out the old, battered suitcase I brought with me three years ago.

Opening the closet, I saw rows of designer dresses, bags, and jewelry Ethan had bought me. I didn't touch any of it.

I only packed a few cheap clothes, my wornout toiletries bag, and a yellowed photo hidden in the drawer of my nightstand.

In the photo, Lucas was wearing a crisp white shirt, smiling like warm sunshine, holding two ice cream cones. We took it back in college. That was before the car accident.

Before I sold myself to Ethan to pay his medical bills. Looking at the photo, the disgust I felt from Ethan and Julian finally faded. "Just wait a little longer, Lucas.

It's almost over," I whispered, carefully putting the photo into my wallet. It took me less than thirty minutes to pack.

When I went down, Ethan was standing in the living room, smoking. Several cigarette butts were already on the floor. Seeing my sad little suitcase, he frowned. "That's it?" "Yes.

Everything else belongs to you, Mr. Vance. I shouldn't take them." I stood at the foyer, placed the house keys on the shoe cabinet, and bowed politely.

Ethan looked incredibly annoyed. My clean, effortless departure made him feel like he was punching JellO. "There's a hundred thousand dollars on this card.

Consider it a parting gift." He threw another card at me. I didn't catch it. "No thank you, Mr. Vance. Our contract was very clear about the final payout.

This extra money isn't in the agreement, so I can't accept it." I wasn't greedy for pocket change. I wanted the fifty million dollars written in black and white.

What if he used this extra hundred thousand as an excuse to claim I breached the contract and withhold my final payout?

When it came to making money, I was as meticulous as an accountant. Ethan's face darkened. "If I give it to you, you take it! Stop making excuses!" "I really don't need it, Mr.

Vance. I'm not short on cash." I lied, pushing the card back. Ethan laughed bitterly. "Not short on cash?

If you weren't desperate for money, would you have spent three years being a pathetic substitute? Clara, don't play the saint now." I kept my head down and said nothing. "Fine.

Since you want to act so high and mighty, get out." He pointed at the door. It felt like a royal pardon. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out.

Just as I stepped past the threshold, Ethan's dark voice came from behind. "Clara, once you walk out that door, there's no turning back.

Don't expect me to come crawling back to comfort you like before." Comfort me? When had he ever comforted me? Oh, right.

When I first started, I cried because I couldn't handle his mood swings. He got annoyed by my crying, threw a designer bag at me, and said, "Stop crying.

You're giving me a headache." That wasn't comfort. That was buying silence. I stopped, but didn't turn around. I just stood tall. "Don't worry, Mr. Vance.

I will never look back." I dragged my suitcase out of the gated community. I didn't go to any penthouse. Instead, I hailed a cab and went straight to the city hospital.

Late at night, the ICU hallway was dead silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. I pressed my face against the glass window, greedily staring at the man lying inside.

Three years. Lucas had lost so much weight. He was pale and hooked up to countless tubes. But he was alive. As long as he was alive, there was hope.

The head nurse walked by, saw me, and sighed. "Clara, you're here so late again?" "Yeah. Just wanted to see him." "Mr. Taylor hasn't been doing well these past couple of days.

The doctor said if we don't do the second surgery soon, I'm afraid..." "I know." I turned to the nurse, my eyes filled with a fierce determination. "I have the money ready.

We'll do the surgery on the 3rd, right on schedule."

My life after leaving Ethan was incredibly busy. I checked into a cheap motel. Every day, I either visited Lucas at the hospital or stared at my calendar, counting down the days.

Three days left until the end of the contract. Just three more days, and once Ethan transferred the money, I would be completely free. But things never go that smoothly.

On the second to last night, my phone rang. It was Ethan. "Where are you?" His voice sounded drunk. The background was loud and chaotic—clearly, he was at a bar. "Mr.

Vance, I've already moved out," I reminded him calmly. "I asked you where you are!" he roared. "Sera wants to meet you." My heart dropped. Sera wanted to meet me?

What good could come from the real deal meeting the fake copy? "Mr. Vance, that's not appropriate..." "Cut the crap!

Get to The Midnight Club in thirty minutes, or you won't get a single penny of your payout!" He hung up. My fingers gripped the phone so hard they turned white.

He was threatening me with the fifty million. That was Lucas's life.

I took a deep breath, changed into a light blue dress that Sera used to love, and took a cab to The Midnight Club.

The moment I pushed the VIP room door open, I saw the woman sitting next to Ethan. She was beautiful.

She had a natural elegance and confidence that I could never replicate, no matter how hard I tried for three years. Only, she was wearing a striking red dress—bold and vibrant.

She was completely different from the sweet, simple girl Ethan had described. It seemed Ethan only made me wear plain, soft colors because that was how he remembered her.

The real Sera had changed long ago. "So, you're Clara?" Sera looked me up and down with a mix of curiosity and sheer contempt. "You do look a bit like my younger self." I stood by the door, keeping my composure. "Hello, Miss Miller." Ethan held his glass, his eyes darting between me and Sera, looking like he was anticipating a show. "Ethan, I heard she was with you for three years?" Sera clung to his arm, giggling. "How much did you pay to keep such an obedient little pet?" Ethan glanced at me carelessly. "Not much.

Just a toy to pass the time." A toy. The word stabbed my ears like a needle.

But I kept the perfect, polite smile on my face, showing no hint of humiliation. "I heard you'll do anything for money?" Sera suddenly stood up and walked over to me, holding a glass of red wine. "What if I told you to get on your knees, apologize to me, and admit that you're a shameless, fake copycat?

Would you do it?" The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at me, waiting to see what I would do.

Ethan frowned slightly, seemingly thinking Sera was crossing the line, but he didn't stop her. He was waiting. Waiting for me to beg him for help.

I looked at Ethan, then at the red wine tilting in Sera's hand. For fifty million dollars. For Lucas. What was pride? What was my dignity?

I slowly bent my knees, letting them sink toward the floor. Ethan's eyes widened. He suddenly stood up, as if to say something. Thud.

My knees hit the carpeted floor. "I'm sorry, Miss Miller." I looked up, staring straight into her eyes, my voice as calm as if I were talking about the weather. "I am just a fake copycat.

I shouldn't have imitated you. I'm sorry for causing you trouble." Sera froze. She clearly hadn't expected me to kneel so quickly, without a single ounce of hesitation.

Before she could even enjoy the thrill of humiliating me, my businesslike attitude completely ruined it for her. "You..." Sera lost her temper.

She raised her hand, about to splash the red wine directly into my face. "Enough!" Ethan rushed over and grabbed Sera's wrist.

The wine spilled all over the floor, splashing onto my dress. "Ethan?" Sera looked at him in disbelief. Ethan's face was pale with anger.

He stared down at me kneeling on the floor, his chest heaving. "Clara, you..." He seemed to want to yell at me, but didn't know what to say. Was he mad because I had no backbone?

Or because I didn't respect myself? "Mr. Vance, is there anything else you need me to do?" I asked, still kneeling, looking up at him. "If not, may I leave?" "Get out!

Get the hell out!" Ethan screamed, smashing his glass against the wall.

I stood up smoothly, patted the dust off my knees, and bowed slightly to both of them. "I wish you and Miss Miller a lifetime of happiness." With that, I turned and walked out without looking back.

The moment I stepped out of the club, the cold wind hit my face, and I realized I was drenched in a cold sweat. My phone buzzed. I checked the time. It was past midnight.

It was the 3rd. The contract was officially over. Then, a bank notification popped up on my screen: [Your account has received a wire transfer of $50,000,000.00.] The money was in.

Looking at the astronomical figure, tears finally poured down my face. Lucas was saved. I wiped my tears.

The very first thing I did was open Snapchat and my contacts, blocking and deleting Ethan Vance from everything.

Then, I popped my SIM card out and threw it into a trash can on the street. Goodbye, Mr. Vance. Who needs a temperamental, arrogant billionaire anyway? I have money.

I have the man I love. My new life, starts now.