Chapter 3

Damien saw my comment and replied. "Are you crazy?"

I was a bit surprised he'd guessed the truth.

I did have a mental illness.

The crackling fire in the distant storage room echoed. The butcher knife I used for slicing meat lay on the sharpening stone, gleaming.

But then, Damien called to apologize.

"Honey, I was drinking with some buddies after surgery. They got a little drunk and started talking nonsense to you."

"Please don't be angry."

"I've already deleted the Ins post."

That's when I realized the post and replies had been made by Isabelle, using his phone.

But I'd been with him for ten years; I knew him too well.

Damien Thorne was a man with very strong personal boundaries.

He never allowed anyone to overly intrude on his private space.

Even after all this time together, I'd never been allowed to touch his phone.

Whenever I tried, he'd refuse, citing "personal space."

Yet, his first love, who had just returned, could hold his phone in her hand.

I calmly replied, "Got it."

I didn't want Damien to ruin my good mood for chopping meat and making a late-night snack.

Just as I was about to hang up, I heard Isabelle's cheerful laugh in the background.

A familiar child's voice followed, coming through the phone.

"Mommy, Leo had so much fun playing with you tonight!"

"Leo wants to see you again tomorrow!"

Hearing that innocent voice, I froze.

Leo? Wasn't that my and Damien Thorne's son?

Shouldn't he be with Damien's mother? Why was he with Isabelle?

Hearing Leo repeatedly call Isabelle "Mommy."

My previously dormant heart began to boil.

I yelled into the phone, "Damien Thorne, why is Leo with her?"

Damien's voice carried a hint of guilt.

"My mom said she was busy with her Zumba class and couldn't watch Leo, so she asked me to take him out…"

His words were drowned out by Isabelle and Leo's laughter as they played.

I hung up the phone and rushed towards Damien's usual spot.

His favorite haunts over the years were places I knew by heart.

All the way there, Damien panicked, constantly calling my phone.

He knew very well that once I saw Isabelle, I would expose the truth.

But what he didn't know was that I had already seen Isabelle at the airport.

I stormed onto the rooftop terrace of the club.

It was romantically decorated, with champagne bottles arranged into a heart shape.

The wind was strong, and everyone was staring at me.

This was also the place where Damien first proposed to me.

Isabelle's face, illuminated by the moonlight, possessed an ethereal beauty.

Around her neck hung a necklace made from ashes.

It was my mother's ashes, which I had asked Damien to have a craftsman make for me after she passed away.

My mother had said that in this way, she could still be by my side.

But the day after it was made, I only wore it for one day before it disappeared.

Turns out, it ended up around Isabelle's neck.

And, half of the necklace had been worn away.

This boded ill. It implied the deceased would have no next life.

I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't be mistaken, as there was a unique notch I had specifically asked the craftsman to leave.

I stared intensely at the necklace. Isabelle raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly pulled it off, and put it back in her bag.

Leo was in Isabelle's arms, swinging with her.

Hearing the commotion, he looked at me, then at Isabelle, a confused expression on his face.

"That's weird, there are two mommies!"

Isabelle provocatively took Leo's hand.

"So, which mommy do you like more?"

Leo said without hesitation, "The real mommy! I like the real mommy!"

"The other mommy must be wearing a human skin mask to pretend!"

Leo, who watched too many mystery shows, started looking back and forth between me and Isabelle.

Isabelle laughed, then began to playfully knead her own face.

"See, Mommy's skin is real."

"So her face isn't. She's fake, she's tricking you!"

Leo pointed at me.

"You quickly rub your face, too, to prove to me you're my mommy!"

Isabelle looked at me with a challenging smirk.

"Why don't you rub and pinch your face? Could it be you're actually the ‘stand-in'?"

The other guys, Damien's buddies, booed in playful encouragement.

I smiled bitterly. She was right.

This face, mimicking hers, was almost entirely fake.

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