I Was Only His Substitute

The whole of Willtown knew how Vincent Stevens spoiled Gloria Swanson. Yet few realized she was merely a substitute for the one he could never have. But Gloria understood perfectly. After all, she had begged for this herself. At eighteen, she was a bottom-tier hostess at the club, everyone's punching bag, often crouching bruised and broken in shadowy corners, simply grateful to see another dawn. Until one late night, she accidentally caught the managers' hushed conversation. "You know what? That big shot's got someone special in his heart!" "No wonder he never shows interest in women. How'd you find out?" "Last time he got drunk and let it slip. If his assistant, Andy, hadn't shown up so fast, I'd know who it was!" "She can't be in Willtown, or we'd have heard rumors." "But I heard that person has a tiny mole, right where Gloria's is..." Gloria stopped listening then. She knew her moment had come. So when Vincent next tormented her half to death, she crawled and clutched Vincent's trousers. "Please, save me. I'll do anything." Vincent looked down dismissively, then froze at the mole on her cheek. Gloria knew her bet had paid off. From that moment, she became Vincent's shadow, burying all defiance, ready to be his perfect marionette. But Vincent had other plans. He personally taught her to read, to shoot, to command authority with the demeanor of those born to power. He pulled her from the mud, washed away her lowly origins with his own hands, and shaped her into Willtown's most dazzling, thorn-covered rose. She knew she shouldn't cling to this tenderness that was never hers, yet she couldn't help but fall deeper. Everything went well until that day, when Gloria and a stranger were taken hostage together. At first, Gloria thought little of it. She'd weathered such situations before, and Vincent always came for her. But when the basement door was kicked open, and Vincent burst in, his gaze swept right past Gloria pinned form on the floor, locking onto the unfamiliar girl in the corner. Staggering forward, he untied the ropes around her wrists with trembling hands, his fingertips gently brushing the angry red marks. His voice held a panic and tenderness Gloria had never heard before. "Dora, I'm sorry... Don't be scared..." That tone terrified Gloria more than his initial disregard. Instinctively, she reached for Vincent, but a single playful voice froze her mid-motion. "Uncle Vincent," the girl spoke. Only then did Gloria remember that the Stevens family did have a reclusive young girl, Vincent's niece in name, Dora Stevens. Suppressing her discomfort, Gloria steadied herself and stepped forward to help. However, Dora sidestepped her deftly. Gloria looked to Vincent, but his eyes never left Dora for even a second. Gloria stood stunned before quietly stepping back to watch them. Dora tugged at Vincent's hand, playfully pleading, "Don't be mad. I was just teasing you. I asked these people to take me away. I just wanted to see how much you care." "That's too much," Vincent chided softly, yet his fingers gently tweaked her nose. Gloria observed the tender, familiar gesture, her brows knitting slightly as she studied Dora. Just then, she caught sight of Dora's hand curled in Vincent's palm, her little finger absently tracing the lines of his palm. Gloria's breath hitched. It was the exact same subtle gesture she used when she was with Vincent. Shocked, Gloria looked up just as Dora broke into a dazzling smile, but the curve of her lips and the crinkle at her eyes were identical to her own. A cold dread crept up her spine as realization dawned. Involuntarily, Gloria's eyes sought Vincent. Perhaps her gaze burned too intensely, and Vincent finally met her eyes. In that fleeting moment, the turbulent emotions flashing in his gaze revealed the terrible truth. So the unrequited love he'd harbored for years was for his own niece. Even without blood ties, this was a shocking scandal in high society! Gloria found it grotesquely ironic, yet she couldn't bring herself to laugh.