I Regret Not Being a Substitute
Wife
Chapter 1
My ninety–ninth attempt to seduce my
husband, Mark, ended in failure. I’d begun to
suspect he had a medical condition, so I’d
found the best doctor in town, ready to
recommend him for treatment. But then I
overheard Mark talking to a friend.
“Get me some more of that erectile
dysfunction medication.”
“Even if I can’t be with Sarah, I’ll stay faithful
to her.”
Sarah. His older brother’s adopted daughter.
My heart sank. I called my twin sister,
Jessica.
“Jess, I’ve figured it out. A useless man isn’t
worth it.”
“I’m getting a divorce!”
“Good Honey I have plenty of eligible
bachelors. I’ll set you up with eight or ten,
give you some options to play with…”
The call ended. Mark didn’t leave. Instead, he
pulled a doll–an exact replica of Sarah–from
a hidden cabinet.
He placed the doll on a chair, leaned over,
and kissed its forehead, almost reverently.
He kissed it from head to toe.
He even got… aroused.
He didn’t fight it, he just went with it.
Sweat beaded on his forehead; it was…
intense.
“Sarah, Sarah…”
“What am I going to do with you?”
His whispered endearments were like
daggers, piercing my heart again and again.
I’d always known about the doll, his forbidden
object. I didn’t understand it at first, but
seeing Sarah’s face… I understood.
She was his unspoken love.
Bringing his feelings into the light would hurt
both of them.
And I? I was his chosen victim.
Jessica and I were twins. A hospital mix–up
separated us for thirteen years. When they
finally found me, I was prickly, sensitive, and
fiercely independent.
At my first birthday party with Jessica, I got
into a fight with someone who mocked my
manners.
Jessica was called away; I was alone and
defenseless. My parents, who favored their
newly–found daughter, just watched.
“Someone with class wouldn’t brawl at a
birthday party. You and your sister only have
your faces in common.”
“I bet her parents are mortified. Nobody’s
sticking up for her.”
“So much for those ‘twin beauties.‘ You’re
just a weed.”
A bottle of red wine splashed down on the
speaker’s head.
Mark stood behind them, impeccably dressed,
handsome, surrounded by admiring women.
I was one of them.
He didn’t look at me, but he defended me.
“You’re celebrating the hostess‘ birthday and
insulting her? That makes you look classy?”
The guy, intimidated, didn’t even bother
wiping the wine off, and ran off.
Jessica, alerted by a servant, rushed over.
She thanked Mark, then pulled me away,
protective like a hen with a chick.
She warned me:
“Clara, stay away from Mark. The Ultons are
messed up. Your personality? You’d be eaten
alive.”
I was captivated by Mark’s image; I ignored
her completely.
He contacted me.
く
We went to firework shows, stargazing,
traveling. He was endlessly patient with my
moods.
Knowing my tendency to overthink, he’d
patiently unravel my anxieties.
He knew me better than I knew myself.
My defenses crumbled. When he proposed a
marriage–oriented relationship, I said yes
without hesitation.
But then he stopped.
“Let’s wait until we’re married to be intimate.”
I understood. I thought he respected and
valued me.
