Silas Shen was notoriously "frigid" among Beijing's elite, the most ruthless power player in the city. And I? I was nothing more than a canary he kept in a secluded chamber—well-behaved, quiet, and never stepping out of line. At that charity auction, watching his profile as he approached me against the light, I had lost my focus and shattered the wine glass in my hand. He mistook my shock for being awestruck by his status, never realizing that in him, I saw a man who should have perished in that fire three years ago.
From that day, I became the "expectant" Mrs. Shen.
Silas was lavish with me. Checks, jewels, top-tier resources—as long as I spoke up, he was never stingy. But he had one obsession: I refused to look into his eyes. Every time we were intimate, I would stubbornly avert my gaze, watching his silhouette cast against the wall instead. Silas once caught my chin, asking with a self-deprecating smirk, "Lyra, is my face really that repulsive to you?" I merely smiled in silence. He didn't know that he only truly resembled Julian when those predatory eyes of his were out of sight.
Today was the anniversary of Julian's death. I declined the banquet Silas had arranged, feigning illness to visit the suburban cemetery alone. I brought his favorite white camellias and sat by the headstone for hours. "He's becoming more and more entrenched in that position," I murmured, tracing the boy's face in the photograph. "Sometimes, I lose myself. I start to think you're still alive, Julian."
When I returned to the villa, the living room was draped in darkness. Silas sat on the sofa, the tip of a cigarette glowing a faint, angry red. Scattered on the coffee table were photos—snapshots of Julian and me at a school sports meet three years ago. It was a version of me Silas had never seen: a girl laughing with radiant, genuine joy.
"Is this the 'illness' you mentioned?" Silas's voice was dangerously hoarse. He rose, bringing a wave of coldness with him. He gripped the photo so tightly his knuckles blanched. "Lyra, I always thought you didn't dare look at me because you were afraid of me." He suddenly slammed me against the wall, his breath scalding but his words cruel. "It turns out you were afraid that if you saw these eyes clearly, you wouldn't be able to use me as a stand-in for a dead man, weren't you?"
I stared into the turbulence of his eyes. My heart thrashed against my ribs, yet I remained poised. "Since Mr. Shen has found out, perhaps it's time we settle the score and part ways?"
He reacted as if I'd told a grotesque joke. He lunged forward, biting my lip with a feral intensity that brought the immediate tang of copper to my tongue.
"Settle the score?" he growled into my ear, his voice vibrating with a faint, uncontrollable tremor. "You've treated me as a ghost's shadow for over a thousand days, and now you think you can just walk away? Lyra, in your dreams."