On our seventh anniversary, Adrian Sinclair launched tens of thousands of drones over Riverside Promenade. They formed a single character in the sky: "Ning".

Everyone saw it. Proof of how deeply Adrian loved me.

My phone exploded with photos from every angle.

"Mr. Sinclair really spoils you! God, Natalie, you're so lucky!"

"I caught THE kiss! Girl, your knees must've gone weak~"

I opened the photos. Two figures nestled together, gazing at each other with unmistakable devotion.

The moment the fireworks burst, they kissed.

My fingers trembled as I zoomed in. That face looked exactly like mine.

Just yesterday, Adrian and I had a massive fight. Before he left, he sighed—voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Natalie, let's get divorced."

I agreed.

So right now, I was sitting in my messy apartment, miles away from the romance unfolding at Riverside Promenade.

Then a message from my twin sister popped up.

"I'm back in the country. This welcome ceremony is quite satisfactory."

Vivian was back. And she was the one at Riverside Promenade.

Those photos felt like thorns piercing straight through my eyes.

I called Adrian immediately.

As expected—the cold, automated message. Phone powered off.

Then Vivian sent another message. A video this time.

"Sister, I just got back. I'll be borrowing Adrian tonight, thanks～"

The video showed a dimly lit car interior. Adrian knelt over Vivian in the back seat, tearing at her clothes, his mouth on her neck.

My hand trembled. The phone hit the floor with a thud.

That same spot. Where I had a hideous scar—courtesy of Vivian pouring scalding water on me during a fight.

Adrian knew about that scar.

In bed once, he'd traced it with his fingers and frowned. "That scar is so unsightly."

So every time we had sex, he'd press my head into the pillow. I'd come up gasping every time.

Adrian knew that woman wasn't me.

Of course he knew. How could he not tell the difference between me and Vivian? He knew perfectly well.

That's why he'd prepared this grand gesture for our seventh anniversary.

Previous anniversaries? He'd always said they were a waste of time. He'd book a venue, let me take photos, then Photoshop himself in later.

But today, Adrian Sinclair went all out.

All to use our anniversary as cover—a grand welcome home for Vivian Winters.

I smiled bitterly. Tears still squeezed from the corners of my eyes.

Those who care don't need reminders. Those who don't can't be taught.

I remembered clearly what Adrian said before he left yesterday.

I wiped my tears and drafted a divorce agreement.

At dawn, I sent it to him.

"Sign it if there's no problem. Vivian's back now. I'm stepping aside."

An hour later, a jarring ringtone jolted me from shallow sleep.

Adrian's voice came through hoarse.

"Awake? Pick up soup dumplings from The Moonlight Pavilion. Bring them to the south city villa."

I checked the time. 4 AM. Even his assistant wouldn't be working this early.

My head throbbed. I hung up immediately.

I'd barely closed my eyes when another message came through.

"Natalie, if you don't bring it, I won't sign the divorce papers."

I had no choice. I dragged myself up, went to The Moonlight Pavilion, then drove to the south city villa. Two hours wasted.

The moment I pushed open the door, I saw them. Vivian sat on Adrian's lap in the dining room, her clothes half-undone.

Breakfast was already spread across the table. Yet Adrian had still made me come.

When Vivian saw the dumplings, smugness dripped from her voice.

"You actually brought them? I only mentioned it in passing to Adrian. How embarrassing!"

Not a trace of apology in her expression.

Adrian looked at me with satisfaction.

I set the dumplings in front of her and turned to leave.

Adrian caught my wrist.

"Sit. Have breakfast with us."

"No need. Just sign the agreement." I tugged my wrist, but couldn't break free.

"How will you know if I'll sign unless you watch?" Adrian said casually.

I stopped. Bit my lip. Turned and sat across from them.

Adrian slid a bowl of seafood porridge toward me while unwrapping something for Vivian.

"Eat. I spent all night making this."

I stared at the bowl. Didn't touch it.

Vivian wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling.

"Adrian, she's allergic to seafood. She can't eat that."

"You only remembered that I like seafood, didn't you?" She pouted playfully.

Adrian paused. Then swapped it for another bowl.

"How are you so different from your sister?"

I lowered my eyes. No point explaining what I'd said a thousand times—Vivian and I shared nothing but a face.

I finished the porridge in silence.

Then pushed the bowl toward him.

"Done. Sign the papers now."

Veins bulged on Adrian's hand where it rested on the table.

"Natalie, why the rush to divorce? Already got someone lined up?"

Substitute Wife: Seven Years of His Lies — Chapter 3

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