His Substitute Bride I'm Done Being Her Shadow

The engagement party Millie Sullivan had waited years for didn't bring happiness. Instead, she stood watching as her fiancé gently held another woman in his arms.

"Mr. Gilbert, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault..."

The venue was empty. Clint Gilbert's secretary, Lucille Morton, was still nestled against his chest, crying pitifully.

"I gave the guests the wrong time for the banquet, and it ruined your engagement party. Maybe I should go explain to Miss Sullivan..."

Her words dripped with remorse, but her body didn't move an inch from Clint's embrace.

"You're always so careless." Clint frowned, his voice soft with concern. "Don't cry. It's not a big deal. You're new—it's perfectly normal to make a few mistakes when you're overwhelmed."

Not a big deal.

A few mistakes.

Millie's eyes burned. She clenched her jaw until it ached, refusing to let a single tear fall.

To make it back in time for this engagement party, she'd pulled all-nighters in New York for weeks. She'd sat through a fourteen-hour flight and hadn't even recovered from the jet lag, all so this night would go perfectly.

Yet to Clint, their engagement was nothing more than a minor scheduling error that didn't matter.

"Clint, you're covering for her. Is that what this is?"

Millie's voice trembled with the effort of holding herself together.

"Today is our engagement party. Do you have any idea that her 'little mistake' just destroyed three months of—"

"Enough. Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

Clint cut her off, his expression flat, edged with impatience.

"She got the time wrong. So what? We'll just pick another date and redo it."

"It's an engagement, not a wedding. Why are you making such a scene?"

It's an engagement.

She almost laughed.

Millie stared at him as though seeing him for the very first time.

The commitment she had poured every ounce of herself into reaching was, to him, no different from a rescheduled business meeting.

"Then there's nothing to redo."

Her voice came out raw.

"The engagement is off."

Clint blinked, then let out a scoff, his eyes glinting with unmistakable derision.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Millie, do you really think you're that important?"

Her fingertips shook.

Wind cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows, biting into her skin. It was cold—colder even than the day she'd stood before her sister's grave and heard those words.

Millie had always known.

If Carrie Sullivan were still alive, Clint would have become her brother-in-law.

Even though Millie had met him first.

Even though Millie had fallen for him first.

After Carrie died, Clint had nearly shattered. Millie was the one who stayed by his side through all of it, quietly, without being asked.

She did his laundry, mopped his floors, cooked his meals, brewed his soups. She sat with him while he drank himself numb, listened to him mumble incoherently through the haze.

When he finally pulled himself together, she was still there—working late beside him, navigating business dinners at his side, helping him drag his company back from the brink, piece by piece.

Slowly, Clint began to respond.

He remembered her birthday. On late nights at the office, he'd order her a warm bowl of oatmeal. On rainy days, he'd park downstairs and wait for her.

And then he said the words she'd dreamed of hearing.

"Millie, let's give this a try."

She thought she'd finally gotten through to him. That she'd earned Clint Gilbert's love.

Until the day she overheard him whispering at Carrie's headstone:

"Carrie, you're the only one I'll ever love."

"Being with Millie... it's only because her eyes look so much like yours. I needed something to hold on to. Without that, I don't think I could keep going."

Every word was a poisoned needle, stitching itself deep into her chest.

After learning the truth, Millie used expanding the overseas division as an excuse and fled the country.

During those numbingly busy days abroad, she fought to teach herself how to let go.

But then Clint proposed the engagement, and foolish hope bloomed in her again, stubborn and unwanted.

She knew Carrie would always occupy a place in his heart.

Yet she couldn't stop herself from thinking: Just a little more time. Maybe he'll finally see me for who I am.

If not for this engagement disaster, she probably could have kept lying to herself forever.

A month ago, her colleagues mentioned that Clint's new secretary was a walking catastrophe.

Lost contracts, mixed-up schedules, wrong things said to the wrong people—trouble every single day.

Yet every time, Clint personally cleaned up the mess, guiding her with a patience Millie had never once seen him show.

Today, she finally understood why.

It was simply because that secretary looked exactly like Carrie.

Millie drew a long, slow breath, pressing down the fine, needling ache in her chest.

She turned and called the hotel manager over.

"Please cancel next month's banquet hall reservation. I'll pay double the cancellation fee."

Through it all, she didn't spare Clint or Lucille another glance. They might as well not have existed.

"Millie, are you done with this tantrum?!"

Clint's face had gone completely dark.

She didn't respond. Her gaze drifted to his left hand—to his ring finger.

That ring was one Millie had designed herself.

Thirty-seven drafts. Three months of revisions.

She had hidden every last piece of her love inside that diamond.

She remembered that Clint hadn't been particularly enthusiastic, but he'd accepted it all the same.

And now—

Millie walked over and wrenched the ring off his finger without a second's hesitation.

Crack.

The diamond separated from the band and rolled into a corner.

Just like her five years of devotion.

Clean. Final. Irreparably destroyed.

"You've lost your mind. You've actually lost your mind! Millie, I don't have time for this."

Clint was still seething with disbelief, but Millie was already walking away without looking back.

At the same time, her finger tapped the screen of her phone without hesitation.

"Miss Sullivan, have you made up your mind?"

Three days ago, a headhunter from a company in New York had reached out to her.

She'd never replied. But now...

Millie moved her fingers slowly to the keyboard. The last faint spark behind her eyes dimmed with each keystroke, settling into silence.

"OK. See you in seven days."