Chapter 2: Faces in the Crowd

The next morning, I replayed the conversation a dozen times, searching for a hint of warmth. I convinced myself he was just being careful. Maybe he was testing me, or maybe he was just surprised. Either way, I refused to give up.

He hadn’t hired female secretaries in years, probably to avoid workplace rumors. But since my father was the largest shareholder, he couldn’t refuse my request to intern.

I could see it in the way his jaw clenched as my father insisted. The office buzzed with whispers as I settled into my new desk. I ignored the sidelong glances, determined to prove myself. I was more than a spoiled heiress, and I’d show him.

Three days after I started, I learned the truth: Ethan already had a girlfriend named Lily Hart, who looked exactly like me.

I’d heard rumors, but nothing prepared me for the shock. It was like being hit by a cold wave. I felt the blood drain from my face, like the floor had just dropped out from under me.

Our meeting was accidental. During a busy lunch hour, I exited a crowded elevator with a stack of files and collided with her. Papers scattered everywhere. As I apologized and bent to pick them up, I heard Ethan’s gentle, familiar voice—but he was speaking to Lily: “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

The air in the lobby seemed to freeze. I looked up, heart hammering, and saw her—Lily. She knelt beside me, her features a haunting reflection of my own. Ethan hovered protectively, his concern obvious. The way he touched her arm, the softness in his voice—it was all too familiar, like watching a scene from my old life, only I was on the outside looking in.

I froze. Lily’s face—it was my own, staring back at me. Ethan half-embraced her, his concern obvious. When she shook her head, he turned to me, his voice cold: “Watch where you’re going next time.”

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to snap back. His eyes, once so gentle, were now distant, almost cold. The hurt was sharp and immediate, but I forced myself to gather the papers, blinking back tears.

I didn’t recover until they left. Looking at the scattered papers, I noticed a cut on my hand, bleeding. For the first time, I believed he truly had a new girlfriend—a girlfriend who looked exactly like me.

I stared at the blood welling on my palm, the sting oddly grounding. In the past, Ethan would have fussed over me, pulling out a bandage from his wallet, scolding me for being careless. Now, I was invisible.

Ethan had always been rational. Why would he choose a woman who so closely resembled me? If he’d moved on to someone else, I could have accepted it as human nature. But a substitute? I felt angry, resentful, even disgusted.

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to slow my racing heart. Was I so easy to replace? The thought made me dizzy with fury and heartbreak. I couldn’t breathe.

I remembered how, in the past, I would have shown him my wound, seeking his attention. He would have fussed over me, carefully bandaging my hand. Now, I could only stare at my injury, comforting myself as he walked away with someone else.

I wrapped my hand in a tissue, blinking back tears. The ache in my chest was sharper than any physical pain. The world felt colder, lonelier. Ethan’s warmth was gone.

Autumn, it’s alright, I told myself. This is five years later. He doesn’t know you. It’s normal for him to be cold. Yet, my heart throbbed with a dull ache. Still, it hurt.

I tried, but logic never wins against longing. Not with him. I kept my head down, avoiding everyone’s gaze as I slipped into the restroom to clean my wound. The silence there was a small comfort.

Five years after my death, his new girlfriend had my face. It made me unbearably angry. I hated it.

I slammed my fist against the sink, letting the pain ground me. The reflection in the mirror was Savannah’s, but the anger in my eyes was all mine.

I wasn’t exactly subtle—everyone in the company knew why I was really there. I asked my colleague Amy about Ethan and Lily. Amy gossiped: “Lily Hart, Mr. Maddox’s girlfriend. They’ve been together over four years. She’s mute, can’t speak, but I heard she looks just like his late girlfriend—the classic ‘white moonlight’—you know, that first love you never get over. ‘All the women after you are just your shadows.’”

Amy leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Honestly, it’s kind of tragic. People say he’s never gotten over his ex. Lily’s sweet, but it’s like she’s living in someone else’s shadow.”

I forced a smile. It was absurd, not touching. No matter how much she resembled me, she wasn’t me. And less than a year after I died, Ethan was with someone else.

The bitterness was hard to hide. Was I the only one who thought this was cruel? I wondered if anyone else saw the irony, or if I was the only one who found it cruel.

When I returned to Ethan, he was preparing for a meeting. He glanced indifferently at my bleeding hand and asked, “The afternoon meeting schedule?”

His indifference was a slap in the face, but I straightened my shoulders and answered crisply. I refused to let him see me falter.

I reported calmly, having already prepared everything to his preferences. He listened, then looked at me in surprise—maybe realizing I wasn’t just another spoiled heiress.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of respect in his eyes. It was almost enough to make me smile.

Back then, when he started his business, I was always by his side—meeting clients, attending dinners, studying accounting. When we were cheated out of our first capital, I confronted the boss myself, threatening him until he paid up. Afterward, Ethan held me tightly, his eyes red, forbidding me from risking myself again. I was his partner, his comrade, his lover.

I could still feel his arms around me, the way he whispered, ‘Don’t ever scare me like that again.’ We were a team, built on trust and stubborn love. I missed him.