Chapter 3: Tomorrow’s Goodbye

Every day, I messaged Sophia—WhatsApp, Instagram, even her old college email. Nothing. I started to wonder if she’d just ghosted me for good.

Then, in the middle of the night, my phone buzzed. 2:47 a.m.—a message from Sophia. She claimed she’d been in a car accident in Rome, out cold for months, and was finally coming home tomorrow.

Relief hit me so hard I almost cried. It meant my masquerade was finally over.

That night, Lucas held me close. Manhattan’s lights glittered outside, but it was the sweat on his forehead and the look on his face that made my heart race.

"You’re in a good mood tonight," he teased, his hands greedy at my waist. "So eager?"

Of course I was. I was finally about to be free—back to my tiny apartment in Queens, back to a life where no one needed me to lie.

I straddled him, letting myself enjoy it one last time. "Don’t you like it?"

"I love it," he said, voice rough. His hands tightened, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

He couldn’t see me, but he read me in other ways. He always made me say his name—Lucas—like it was the only truth I had left.

"You like being with me?"

"I do," I whispered, before I could stop myself.

"Do you like me?"

Dangerous question. He always asked, every night, like he needed to hear it to believe it was real.

The Chase and James families went way back—summer homes in the Hamptons, opera boxes, the whole deal. Sophia always kept Lucas at a distance, never letting him close. But he remembered everything about her—white roses, eggs Benedict, Chopin. She was the girl everyone wanted.

Looking at his unfocused eyes, I held him tighter. I wanted to remember this—just for me.

"Why aren’t you saying anything, babe?"

"I’m not… her," I said, voice breaking. The truth slipped out, just for a second.

"Then who are you? Mrs. Chase? Baby?" He grinned, cocky and sweet, like every Upper East Side heartbreaker rolled into one.

I couldn’t answer. I was just the substitute. Emma Rodriguez from the Bronx—nobody special.

When I stayed silent, he pulled me closer, his hands and mouth everywhere. If I hadn’t claimed to feel sick, he’d have ruined me completely.

Later, when he fell asleep, I watched him. I didn’t want to leave, but pretending can only get you so far. Eventually, the truth always shows.