His Perfect Doll

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.

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.