HIDDEN BENEATH THE COVER

HIDDEN BENEATH THE COVER EPISODE 1: THE REPLACEMENT BRIDE Luoluo had never worn white before. Not real white. Not wedding white. She stared at herself in the fitting room mirror of the most expensive bridal shop in Shanghai, and she didn't recognize the girl looking back. The dress was beautiful. It was the kind of dress she had only seen in magazines as a child when she helped her mother clean houses of rich people. Pearls sewn by hand, lace from France, a train that flowed like water. It was worth more than her entire life — more than her small apartment, more than her mother's hospital bills, more than everything she owned. But on the small gold tag inside the sleeve, written in elegant handwriting, was not her name. _Yuoyuo — Custom Fitting — Do Not Alter._ The dress was not hers. It had been made for another woman. "Are you done yet?" Mrs. Peterson's voice snapped from outside the curtain. Mrs. Peterson was a woman who wore diamonds even to breakfast, who never smiled, who looked at Luoluo like Luoluo was a stain on her perfect carpet. "Yuoyuo was a size smaller than you. If it doesn't fit, pin it. The guests are arriving in two hours. The Peterson family does not wait for replacements." Replacements. That was what she was. Luoluo's fingers tightened on the pearl skirt. Three months ago, she was just Luoluo — 23 years old, working in a small bookstore on the second floor of an old building, living with her sick mother in a one-bedroom apartment where the roof leaked when it rained. Her life was small, but it was hers. Then the Peterson family lawyer came. He wore a suit worth more than her year's rent and placed a black folder on her bookstore counter. "Miss Luoluo," he said politely, but with no warmth. "We have a proposition for you." Inside the folder was a contract. And a check. Contract Marriage Agreement Between Mr. Peterson Li and Miss Luoluo Zhang. Duration: One year. Payment: $2,000,000 USD upon signing, plus $500,000 upon successful completion and divorce. Conditions: Play the role of Mrs. Peterson perfectly in public. No scandals. No interviews. No falling in love. Leave quietly after one year and never mention the Peterson family again. Luoluo stared at the check. $2 million. Her mother's hospital bill was taped to the fridge at home. $1.8 million for the kidney transplant she needed to live. Without it, her mother had three months. "Why me?" Luoluo asked, her voice shaking. The lawyer looked her up and down. "Because you look... a little like Yuoyuo. Same height. Same hair. From far away, the media won't notice. And because you need money and you are quiet. The Peterson family needs quiet. Mr. Peterson's fiancée, Miss Yuoyuo Chen, left the country three months ago with another man. The media is talking. The stocks are falling. The family needs a Mrs. Peterson to stabilize everything. One year is all we need." Luoluo should have said no. She should have thrown the folder away. But that night, she went to the hospital and saw her mother sleeping, her face pale, her hands swollen from the disease. Her mother woke and smiled weakly. "Luoluo, don't worry about me. I have lived enough." Luoluo cried in the hallway and signed the contract at midnight. That was how she became a replacement bride. Now, standing in a wedding dress made for another woman, about to marry a man who loved another woman, Luoluo felt like she was disappearing. The curtain opened. Mrs. Peterson looked her up and down. The dress was too tight on Luoluo's chest and too loose on her waist — because it was made for Yuoyuo's body, not hers. Her skin was not as fair as Yuoyuo's. Her hair was not as blonde. She had pinned it herself because the stylist said, "We were booked for Yuoyuo, not you." "It will do," Mrs. Peterson said coldly. "Remember, when you walk down the aisle, don't smile too much. Yuoyuo had a shy smile. And don't look at Peterson. He doesn't like to be looked at." Luoluo nodded. "Yes, Madam." The wedding was not a wedding. It was a press conference. The Peterson Hotel ballroom was filled with 300 people — billionaires, politicians, journalists with cameras. But there were no flowers that Luoluo liked. There were white roses — Yuoyuo's favorite. There was a five-tier cake — Yuoyuo's favorite flavor, vanilla with strawberries. There was a live band playing Yuoyuo's favorite song. Luoluo walked down the aisle alone. Her mother was too sick to come. Her father had died years ago. She had no family here. Peterson stood at the altar in a perfect black tuxedo. He was more handsome than in magazines. Tall, cold, his hair perfect, his face like a statue carved from ice. The most eligible billionaire in Shanghai. The man every woman wanted. He did not look at her when she walked. He was looking at his phone. On the screen was a photo of a blonde girl on a beach abroad, smiling, holding hands with another man. Yuoyuo. Luoluo reached the altar, out of breath, her hands shaking around Yuoyuo's favorite bouquet. The priest, who had been Yuoyuo and Peterson's priest for their original wedding that never happened, looked uncomfortable. He said the vows quickly. "Mr. Peterson Li, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Peterson said "I do" without looking up from his phone. His voice was flat, bored, as if he was agreeing to a business contract. "Miss Luoluo Zhang, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Luoluo's voice broke. "I... I do." She didn't know if she was marrying him or marrying the contract. After the ceremony, there were photos. Peterson stood next to her but did not touch her. In every photo, there was a gap between them — a space where Yuoyuo should have been. Then they went to the Peterson mansion. The mansion was bigger than a palace. Marble floors, chandeliers, ten bedrooms. Housekeepers lined up to greet them. "This is the new Madam," Mrs. Peterson announced. The housekeepers bowed, but they looked confused. They had prepared everything for Yuoyuo. The towels in the master bedroom were embroidered with Y & P. The slippers were Yuoyuo's size. Peterson walked straight to his bedroom — the master bedroom — and opened a second folder. He handed it to Luoluo. It was another contract. Handwritten by him this time. Three rules. Rule 1: Don't touch my things. Everything in this house belonged to Yuoyuo and me. You are a guest. Rule 2: Don't enter my bedroom or my study without permission. Ever. Rule 3: Don't fall in love with me. This is not real. Don't make it embarrassing for both of us. Luoluo read it twice, her hands cold. The paper shook. "I understand," she whispered, her voice so small she could barely hear it. Peterson looked at her for the first time that day. Really looked at her. His eyes were dark brown, beautiful, but so cold they made her shiver. "Good. Then you will survive this year without trouble," he said. "My room is the master bedroom. Yours is the guest room at the end of the hallway. The smallest one. Don't decorate it. You won't be here long." He closed the door. Luoluo stood alone in the huge living room, holding the second contract, wearing Yuoyuo's wedding dress that didn't fit, surrounded by housekeepers who were whispering about her. She walked to the small guest room at the end of the hallway. It was indeed the smallest. No balcony. One small window facing a wall. A single bed. No photos. No flowers. On the nightstand, there was a photo frame. In it was Peterson and Yuoyuo, hugging, smiling, in matching sweaters. Luoluo carefully turned the frame face down. She sat on the single bed in her too-tight wedding dress and finally cried — silent tears that fell onto pearls that were sewn for another woman. And she told herself, out loud, like a promise: "Don't fall in love. Don't fall in love with him, Luoluo. Don't." But her heart, stupid and hopeful, was already beating too fast. --- One month passed. Luoluo learned to be invisible. She woke at 5 a.m. every morning before Peterson woke, went to the kitchen, and learned how to make black coffee exactly how his old housekeeper said he liked it — no sugar, no milk, one ice cube, served at exactly 65 degrees. She left it outside his master bedroom door on a silver tray and knocked once, then ran away before he opened the door. She learned that he rubbed his left wrist when he was stressed from work. She learned that he became completely silent when he was angry — not shouting, just silent, which was scarier. She learned that he hated onions but loved tomato soup — the same tomato soup her mother used to make when she was a child. She never entered his room. She never touched his things. She obeyed Rule 1 and Rule 2 perfectly. But Rule 3... Rule 3 was breaking inside her every day. In the second month, Peterson got sick. It was a terrible flu with a high fever of 40 degrees. His mother called the family doctor but said, "Just give him medicine, I'm busy with a charity gala." His friends texted "Get well soon" and went to a party. Luoluo heard him coughing from the hallway. She knocked on his door. No answer. She opened it a little — breaking Rule 2 for the first time. Peterson was on his huge bed, shivering, his face red, his shirt soaked with sweat. Luoluo ran. She ran to the kitchen, made honey lemon water, found towels, called the doctor herself, and then sat beside his bed all night. She wiped his forehead. She changed his towels. She whispered, "It's okay, it's okay, the fever will go down." At 3 a.m., Peterson, delirious with fever, grabbed her hand. "Yuoyuo..." he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't leave me... Yuoyuo..." Luoluo's hand froze in his. He was calling another woman's name while holding her hand. Tears fell onto their joined hands, but Luoluo didn't pull away. She stayed until morning, until his fever broke. In the morning, Peterson woke and saw her asleep on the floor beside his bed, her hand still holding the towel. He stared at her for a long time. He didn't say thank you. He just said, coldly, "You broke Rule 2." Luoluo stood up quickly, her legs numb. "I'm sorry. I heard you were sick and—" "Don't do it again," he said, turning away, but his ears were a little red. After that day, something small changed. Peterson started drinking the coffee she left outside his door — every morning, the cup was empty when she collected the tray. He started coming home for dinner at 7 p.m., instead of midnight. Once, when Luoluo was sick with a cold and was sneezing in the kitchen, Peterson came home early, saw her, frowned, and threw his expensive wool jacket over her shoulders. "Don't die in my house," he said coldly. "The contract says you have to stay alive for a year. If you die, I have to find another replacement and that's troublesome." But his hand stayed on her shoulder for one second too long. And his jacket was warm and smelled like him. Luoluo held that jacket all night and cried and smiled at the same time. She began to hope — stupid, dangerous hope. She told herself stories while she cooked dinner that he would eventually eat: _Perhaps love can grow. Perhaps one day he will look at me and not see the woman who replaced someone else. Perhaps one day he will understand that I never wanted to steal another woman's place. I only wanted to be loved. I only wanted someone to choose me._ On their 6-month anniversary, Luoluo did something foolish. She took her own money — not the Peterson money she saved for her mother, but her bookstore savings — and bought a small chocolate cake from the bakery down the street. She wrote on it with white cream: "Happy 6 Months, Peterson." She set the dining table with candles. She made his favorite tomato soup. She wore a simple blue dress — her own dress, not Yuoyuo's — and waited. 7 p.m. — He didn't come. 8 p.m. — She called the driver. The driver said Mr. Peterson was at the airport. 9 p.m. — The candles burned out. 10 p.m. — The soup got cold. At midnight, Luoluo sat alone at the table with the uneaten cake. Her phone buzzed. It was a news alert. Photo: Yuoyuo Chen spotted at Shanghai International Airport, returning after one year abroad! Sources say she is back for love! Luoluo stared at the photo — Yuoyuo, beautiful, blonde, smiling at the cameras, wearing sunglasses even at night. And behind Yuoyuo, carrying her luggage, was Peterson. He had gone to pick up Yuoyuo. On their 6-month wedding anniversary. Luoluo blew out the last candle alone. --- Yuoyuo returned like she had never left. The next morning, Luoluo woke to laughter downstairs. Mrs. Peterson was laughing — a laugh Luoluo had never heard her make for Luoluo. "My Yuoyuo! My dear Yuoyuo! You are finally home! I told Peterson this replacement was nonsense! You are the only Mrs. Peterson!" Luoluo walked downstairs slowly, in her simple pajamas. Yuoyuo stood in the living room — tall, blonde, perfect, wearing a white designer dress and smelling like expensive perfume. She was hugging Mrs. Peterson. And Peterson stood next to her, looking at Yuoyuo like a man who had been dying of thirst and finally saw water. His eyes were not cold anymore. They were warm, alive, broken. "Yuoyuo?" he whispered. Yuoyuo ran to him and threw herself into his arms, crying perfect tears. "Peterson! I missed you so much! The man abroad... he lied to me! He abandoned me! He left me with nothing! I lost everything! And then I realized — only you truly loved me! Only you waited for me!" Peterson hugged her back tightly, his hands shaking. Luoluo stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding the railing, watching her husband hug another woman in her own home. No one saw her at first. Then Mrs. Peterson saw her and smiled — a cold, victorious smile. "Oh, Luoluo. You're awake. Good. Yuoyuo is back. So... you understand what that means, right? The contract is over early. You can pack your things." Peterson looked up from Yuoyuo's hug and saw Luoluo. For one second, his eyes met hers. Luoluo's eyes were full of tears but she didn't let them fall. Peterson's eyes were full of guilt, but also... relief. He opened his mouth, but Yuoyuo spoke first, still in his arms, looking at Luoluo over his shoulder with a sweet, fake smile. "Oh, you must be Luoluo! Thank you so much for taking care of Peterson while I was away! I heard you were a great... temporary wife." Temporary wife. Luoluo's last hope broke. She nodded, her voice gone. "You're welcome." But what Luoluo didn't know — what no one in the Peterson family knew — was that Yuoyuo didn't come back because she loved Peterson. She came back because she heard from abroad that Peterson's company, Peterson Group, had just been valued at $10 billion after going public. And she had nothing abroad. The man she left Peterson for had abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant and then lost the baby, leaving her with debts. She wanted to be Mrs. Peterson again — not for love. For money. And she was willing to do whatever it took to make the quiet contract wife who had been hidden beneath the cover of their marriage... Disappear forever.