The Stand-In Wife's Spectacular Comeback

Clarine pushed open the heavy oak door of the master bedroom. She took a deep breath, but the air in the Long Island estate always felt too thin. Her eyes scanned the empty, cavernous room. A bitter taste coated her tongue.

She walked to the vanity and stared at the mirror. The woman looking back wore a white silk nightgown. It was the exact style Evert demanded. The exact style Cora used to wear. Clarine's stomach churned with a sudden, violent wave of self-disgust.

Three years. For three years, she had let this marriage erase her. She was nothing but a ghost living in a dead woman's shadow.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the silk tie at her waist. She pulled it loose. The white fabric pooled at her feet. Underneath, she wore a black lace bra she had secretly custom-ordered. Tonight was their third anniversary. She needed to break the curse. She needed him to look at her-really look at her.

The low, guttural roar of an Aston Martin engine vibrated through the floorboards.

Clarine's heart slammed against her ribs. Her breath hitched. She dug her fingernails into her palms, using the sharp sting to ground herself. She quickly smoothed her hair.

Heavy, measured footsteps echoed in the hallway. Each thud felt like a hammer striking her spine. The oxygen in the room vanished.

The door shoved open. Evert stepped inside. He brought the winter chill with him, mixed with the sharp scent of whiskey. His eyes were like shards of ice.

Clarine forced her legs to move. She walked toward him, reaching out to help him off with his suit jacket.

Evert shifted his weight, stepping sideways. Her hands grasped empty air.

His sharp gaze dropped to her chest. He saw the black lace. The muscle in his jaw feathered. A flash of pure disgust crossed his face.

"What is this?" His voice was a low, dangerous scrape. "You are a decoration, Clarine. A pacifier for my family. Do not attempt these pathetic seductions."

Tears burned the backs of Clarine's eyes. She blinked them away, her throat tight. "It's our third anniversary, Evert. I just wanted one normal night. One night as your actual wife."

"We have a prenuptial agreement." Evert cut her off. He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a folded document, and tossed it onto the bed. "That is all we have."

Before Clarine could speak, a soft, melodic ringtone broke the silence.

It was Evert's private phone. Clarine's face drained of all color. Her blood ran cold.

Evert answered it. Instantly, the hard lines of his face softened. "Cherie? What's wrong? Calm down, I'm here." His voice was a warm blanket, a tone he had never once used with Clarine.

He listened for a few seconds, then ended the call. He turned his back to Clarine, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Put the white gown back on," Evert ordered without looking at her. "Stop ruining Cora's image."

The door clicked