Seven Years a Shadow: The Stand-In's Escape novel Chapter 3

The air between us turned ice cold.

Lucas's expression darkened.

"You used to know your place."

"What's with the attitude tonight?"

"Noah grew up with you raising him."

"The fact that he would argue with you in public like that—disregarding the Miller family's image—I haven't even called you out for failing as a mother, and now you're throwing a fit?"

Mother.

I let out a bitter laugh.

Lucas and my half-sister, Isabella, were a legendary love story.

Before meeting Isabella, Lucas was a notorious playboy, always surrounded by women but never settling down.

Then he met my sister.

He gave it all up, married her in a heartbeat, and cut off every other woman in his life.

The Taylor family's status skyrocketed overnight because of Isabella.

They had started with a small company, but in just a few years, they became one of the most powerful families in the city.

But Isabella had a weak heart.

She died shortly after giving birth to Noah.

And suddenly, every woman in high society had their eyes on the title of Mrs. Miller.

Everyone knew what Lucas had been like before marriage.

The Taylors were terrified he would move on too quickly, so they sent me in as a replacement.

I looked just like Isabella.

As long as Lucas saw me every day, maybe he wouldn't forget her so soon.

On paper, we were engaged.

But we never got married.

We never could.

I had no real status, yet I held onto the title of Mrs. Miller, just to keep other women at bay.

When I first arrived at the Miller estate, I didn't fit in.

Even the house staff whispered behind my back, mocking me as a clueless outsider. 

Now, I could walk into high-society galas with confidence, handle their veiled conversations with ease, and play the perfect partner to Lucas. 

Noah had been frail since birth.

I spent sleepless nights by his side, watching over him every second. 

When Lucas had business dinners, I'd stay up memorizing complicated family ties, perfecting my accent, all while patting Noah's back to lull him to sleep. 

And for all of that, the most I ever got was this—some offhanded remark of "satisfaction," like it was a reward. 

I took a step back, putting distance between us. 

"I started handing things over to the estate manager two weeks ago." 

"Noah is seven now."

"He has his own thoughts, his own preferences."

"I've done my part making sure he's taken care of, but when it comes to how he's raised… that's not my place."