The Stand-In's Sweetest Revenge

al trainer for billionaire Connor Smith was demanding,

ked back into his life. She took one look at me and decided I was h

ft, tried to humiliate me in front of his friends, and

lthy, was too weak to stop her, offeri

ying in a hospital bed, demanding one of my

not a villain in her twisted romance novel. My

in my name forever, I knew I was done being quiet. She thought she w

pte

Smith's life, my meticulously planned, five-hun

ite sundress, her arm looped possessively through his. Her long, dark hair

mon leggings, a fitted navy-blue quarter-zip, and my hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. In

atrical, escaped her

trembling with what sounded like

cisions without blinking, suddenly looked like a teenager caught with

he said, his voice strained. "She' s

the professional equipment laid out on the coffee table. A flicker of something ugly and calc

le tear tracing a perfect path dow

een finalizing on my tablet. I am Clementine Peters, an elite personal trainer and nutritionist. I specialize in rehabili

imagination, a "stand-in." For wh

sing with dramatic flair, "you couldn't even wait for me. You jus

a dismissive flick of her wr

a delicate, almost fragile air. I was taller, with the lean, defined muscle of a lifelong a

tarted, but Bel

tep back, as if preparing for a final, noble exit. "I understand. I left,

lders slumping in a

hired to manage Connor Smith' s chronic back pain and stress-induced gastritis, a job that required me to be on call 24/7 a

ar; it was the precursor to one of his stress-induced migraines, the very thing

elief. "A nutritionist? For half a million

at her! Same hair, same eyes. You probably

top. "My favorite color is navy

ied triumphantl

ally binding employment contract. I have certifications from the National Academy of Sports

s. A classic trope. He paid you to pretend, to

sted. "Bella, what will it

f she's just an employee, it shouldn't matter. G

tain of it. One of those terrible, low-bu

one. He knew his health had improved more in the three months I'd been here than it had in the

eyes were apologetic. "There's a guest house on the far side of the proper

ry for the inconvenience. One million. You'll jus

o live in a separate, private house and continue d

an who thought she was the main

said imm

nt. A flicker of something-disappointment?

id, already mentally calcu

quipment. As I passed Bella, she

e stand-in never gets the guy. It's just a plot device to

k. Connor had already wired the first installment of my new, up

t her, a genuin

cheerfully. "I'm sure he'l

as she walked back to Connor's side

, Connor's long-suffering house manager, who was watchi

My job just got easier. His wa