“For three years, my boyfriend Adelard's ex-girlfriend, Aurore, haunted our relationship with her fake brain cancer. He swore his devotion to her was just pity, a sense of duty to his dying first love. Then, on our anniversary, he asked me to stand by while he held a fake wedding with Aurore. He claimed it was "therapy" to cure her jumbled memories and give her closure so we could finally be together. He swore it was the last thing he'd ever ask of me. But I soon discovered he'd known she was faking for months. I found the love letters he wrote to her on our anniversaries, on my birthdays. His friends, who knew the truth, mocked me in a language they thought I didn't understand. He had never loved me. I was just a placeholder, a convenient stand-in until he could get closure with his true love. So when he publicly proposed to Aurore with a sky full of fireworks, I didn't cry. I packed my bags, took the company shares he'd 'gifted' me as a symbol of our future, and walked away. The next morning, I put on a different wedding dress. I was going to marry Grady Barber, the powerful heir my twin sister was supposed to marry. This time, I chose myself.”