Chapter 4The Heiress's Perfect Clone: I Stole Her Face to Destroy Her Life

Sloane Sterling booked an overnight first-class flight and flew straight back to New York.

The night before she landed.

Carter held me in his arms, his fingers lazily tracing the contours of my face.

"You know what to say and what not to say tomorrow, right?"

I nodded obediently, cheerfully said, "I know!", and thoughtfully began picking out the suit he would wear to meet Sloane the next day.

When news of our engagement broke, 99% of the internet cursed my name.

A tiny fraction guessed the truth: this was just Carter's ultimate tactic to provoke Sloane.

Unfortunately for the haters, that tiny fraction was right.

Sloane hadn't returned to the States in nearly a year.

The billionaire heir lost his patience and orchestrated this entire spectacle.

And from the very beginning, I played along perfectly.

After all, there was a reason I lasted by Carter's side this long.

Besides the face, it was my absolute, unwavering submission.

I mean absolute submission.

The kind with zero trace of self-respect.

Carter liked competitive gaming.

I spent hours practicing games I had never heard of, just so I could be his perfect duo partner every night.

Carter liked fresh walnuts.

I cracked them by hand for him until my fingernails chipped and my fingertips bled.

Carter was a borderline alcoholic.

To help him break the habit, I matched him drink for drink. My body, which had never touched alcohol before, was forced to down two bottles of neat bourbon.

I ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer, nearly dying.

After that, Carter rarely touched liquor. He even quit smoking.

His frat-boy friends' attitudes toward me completely shifted.

At first, they just saw me as Carter's disposable toy. They would tease me and use me for their amusement.

But gradually, they couldn't stand it anymore.

"Carter, man, Chloe is a really good girl. Stop messing with her head."

Faced with their advice, Carter just pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Keep out of my business."

One of the rich playboys joked:

"Hey Carter, whenever you get bored of her, let me know. I wouldn't mind taking her off your hands."

He reached out and sleazily grabbed my waist.

Carter's face went dark. He smashed a beer bottle over the guy's head.

Then, he pinned down the hand that had touched me and stomped on it until the bones cracked.

You see, after all this time, I actually held some weight in Carter's heart.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have dared to play a cheesy rom-com on the living room TV in front of him—

A show where the male lead fakes an engagement with the side-chick to make the female lead jealous. The female lead crashes the wedding, they confess their love, clear the misunderstanding, and she puts on the dress meant for her. Happily ever after.

The billionaire heir was a fast learner. He copied the script flawlessly.

Now, the male lead and the side-chick were in position. We were just waiting for the female lead to fly home.

The show was about to begin.