I was hired to be the ghost of the woman he loved. My name is Céleste. To save my family, I agreed to become Lucas Blackwood's wife. Not a real one. A paid impersonator. He was a billionaire shattered by the loss of his perfect Emily, and I… well, I was the girl with her face, her talent, even her scent. He called it fate. I called it a survival job. I knew the deal. I was just a shadow, a comfort he could hold in the dark. He'd look at me, but he'd only ever see her. I tried to keep my heart out of it, but it's hard when the man of your dreams is dreaming of someone else through you. The illusion shattered the day I found his secret room—a creepy museum dedicated to Emily. And the final nail in my coffin? Hearing him tell his friend, cool as you please, that I was just a "shadow" he'd discard when my contract was up. So, I gave him a tragedy he'd never forget. I staged my death, faked depression, and vanished into the Seine with our unborn child. I left him with nothing but my "suicide note" sketched in a diary and a guilt trip that would haunt him forever. I built a new life in Paris. My art, my rules. My son, my world. I thought I was free of Lucas Blackwood and his ghosts. I was wrong. He found me. And the man who showed up on my doorstep wasn't the cold CEO I remembered. This man was broken, desperate, his voice raw with a truth so shocking it stole my breath. He held up a childhood photo. "The little girl next to Emily," he said, his hands shaking. "That's you." Turns out, the "ghost" he was so obsessed with… was me all along. The wife he mourned and the stand-in he betrayed were the same person. He didn't just break my heart; he broke his own, twice over, without ever knowing it. Now he's on his knees, begging for a chance to help me remember the woman I used to be. But how am I supposed to forgive the man who made me hate my own reflection?