A Perfect Lie: His Doll Wife

Name: A Perfect Lie: His Doll Wife
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Gavin

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I was a good architect, overseeing my dream project, until a fire on the 45th floor burned my life to the ground. I saved a man, but in return, the flames took my face and my future, leaving me a disfigured monster. Then he appeared like a savior-Carter Long, the brilliant plastic surgeon I'd secretly loved for years. He promised to restore me. He promised to protect me. He even married me. After two years of painful surgeries, the day the final bandages came off, he handed me a mirror. The face staring back was a beautiful stranger's. He showed me a photo of an influencer, a woman named Gia. "My one true love," he said, a wistful look in his eyes. I had been sculpted into her perfect replica. His plan was monstrous. I was to be her body double, a living shield to protect her from scandals. "You are my masterpiece," he said coldly. "You owe me." I stared at the man I had married, the man who promised to save me. He threatened to release photos of my burned face if I disobeyed. He wasn't my savior; he was my creator and my jailer. My reflection mocked me. I wasn't Alysha Jones anymore. I was a copy, a counterfeit trapped in a gilded cage built on his obsession. And I had no way out.

Revenge Divorce Doctor Substitute wife Personal growth

Chapter 18

08-18 20:52

Chapter 1

Then he appeared like a savior-Carter Long, the brilliant plastic surgeon I'd secretly loved for years. He promised to restore me. He promised to protect me. He even married me.

After two years of painful surgeries, the day the final bandages came off, he handed me a mirror. The face staring back was a beautiful stranger's.

He showed me a photo of an influencer, a woman named Gia. "My one true love," he said, a wistful look in his eyes.

I had been sculpted into her perfect replica.

His plan was monstrous. I was to be her body double, a living shield to protect her from scandals. "You are my masterpiece," he said coldly. "You owe me."

I stared at the man I had married, the man who promised to save me. He threatened to release photos of my burned face if I disobeyed. He wasn't my savior; he was my creator and my jailer.

My reflection mocked me. I wasn't Alysha Jones anymore. I was a copy, a counterfeit trapped in a gilded cage built on his obsession. And I had no way out.

Chapter 1

My name is Alysha Jones, and I was a good architect. I loved the clean lines of steel against a blue sky, the solid weight of concrete, the blueprint that promised a future. I was overseeing the final stages of the Long Holdings flagship tower, a project that was my entire world.

My world also included Carter Long.

He was the heir to the Long empire, but he had chosen a different path. He was a brilliant plastic surgeon, a man who sculpted perfection with his hands. I had a crush on him since college. It was a quiet, hopeless thing I kept to myself. He was a star, and I was just someone who worked for his family's company.

That day, the air smelled of dust and heat. I was on the 45th floor, doing a final check. A man in a simple suit seemed lost, looking nervously at the exposed wiring.

"Sir, this area is restricted," I said, walking toward him.

He jumped, startled. "I... I think I' m on the wrong floor."

Before I could guide him out, I heard a sharp crackle. Then, a scream. The smell of burning plastic filled the air. A wall of fire erupted down the hallway, cutting off the exit.

Panic seized me. But the man beside me was frozen in terror. I couldn't leave him.

"This way!" I yelled, pulling him toward a service corridor I knew had a fire-resistant door.

We burst through the door just as the flames licked at our heels. I pushed him ahead of me. A falling beam of hot metal grazed my back and the side of my face. The pain was instant and blinding. Then, everything went dark.

I woke up to the sterile smell of a hospital. My body was a landscape of pain. Gauze covered half my face, my neck, my arms. I was a monster. My career, my future, it was all ash. I stopped looking in mirrors. I stopped speaking to my friends. I gave up.

Then, he came.

Carter Long walked into my private room, looking like a god in his tailored suit. I had seen him on TV, in magazines, but never this close. He was more handsome in person.

His eyes, a cool, serious gray, assessed my bandages.

"Alysha Jones," he said. His voice was calm, a soothing balm on my raw nerves. "I' m Carter Long. My family' s company takes full responsibility for what happened. And I... I am personally going to take care of you."

I just stared, unable to form words.

He pulled a chair close to my bed. He didn' t flinch at the horrifying sight of my burns. He visited every day. He talked to me about architecture, about my designs, never once mentioning my ruined face. He treated me like a person, not a victim.

He told me he had reviewed my file, that he remembered me from a company event years ago. He said he was impressed by my talent. It was a lie, I knew it had to be, but I desperately wanted to believe it.

One afternoon, he held my uninjured hand. His touch was warm.

"I' m going to fix this, Alysha," he promised. "I will restore you. I will make you beautiful again."

He was a world-renowned plastic surgeon. He was offering me hope when I had none. I started to cry, ugly, shuddering sobs.

He didn't pull away. He just held my hand tighter. "I'll be with you through all of it. Every step."

He used his professional expertise to explain the procedures. Skin grafts, laser treatments, reconstructive surgery. He made it sound like a project, an architectural blueprint for a new face. My face.

I was terrified of more pain, of the knife. But the alternative was living like this forever, a husk of my former self. Carter was my only way out.

I finally whispered, "I trust you."

The day before my first major surgery, he proposed. He knelt by my hospital bed, a diamond ring in his hand that sparkled more brightly than any future I could imagine for myself.

"Marry me, Alysha," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Let me spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Let me protect you."

It felt like a dream. The man I had secretly adored for years was asking me to be his wife. I said yes. We were married in a quiet hospital ceremony two weeks later.

The next year was a blur of surgeries and recovery. Carter was always there, patient and gentle. He managed my pain, changed my dressings, and told me I was getting more beautiful every day. I fell completely in love with him.

After the final bandages came off, two years after the fire, he handed me a mirror. I hesitated.

My hand shook as I lifted it. The face staring back was not my own. It was a stranger. A beautiful stranger, with perfect symmetry, high cheekbones, and large, doe-like eyes. It was a flawless face.

But it wasn't me.

Then Carter showed me a picture on his phone. It was a woman, an influencer with millions of followers. Her name was Gia Salazar.

She had the exact same face as the one in the mirror.

"Who is this?" I asked, my voice a hollow whisper.

"Gia," he said, a strange, wistful look in his eyes. "My childhood sweetheart. My one true love."

The room started to spin. The air grew thin.

"What have you done?"

"She' s coming back to New York soon," he continued, his voice cool and detached now, the warmth gone. "She' s the face of a new campaign for Long Holdings."

He finally looked at me, his eyes like chips of ice. "Her image needs to be perfect. Protected. She can' t have any scandals."

"Scandals?" I choked out, a horrible understanding dawning on me.

"There are people who want to hurt her, to tarnish her reputation," he said. He took a step closer, his presence suddenly menacing. "That' s where you come in, Alysha. You look just like her now. You will be her."

I stumbled backward, hitting the wall. "You... you used me."

"I saved you," he corrected coldly. "I gave you a new life. A new face. You owe me."

"You promised," I whispered, the memory of his vows in the hospital chapel turning to poison in my veins. "You promised to protect me."

"I am protecting what' s important," he said. "I' m protecting Gia."

He made it clear. I was a substitute. A body double. A shield.

"You' re a monster," I spat, my new, unfamiliar face twisting in a snarl.

"And you are my masterpiece," he replied, a faint, cruel smile on his lips. "You are Mrs. Long. You will do as I say. Or I will show the world the pictures from before. The real you. The burned architect no one wanted. Do you think anyone will hire you then? Do you think anyone will even look at you?"

I stared at the man I had married, the man I thought I loved. He was a complete stranger.

My reflection in the mirror mocked me. I wasn't Alysha Jones anymore. I was a copy, a counterfeit, living in a gilded cage built on lies.

And I had no way out.