Chapter 3
A few days later, someone claiming to be Alexander Carter’s assistant contacted me.
“Miss Foster, our Mr. Carter would like to invite you to dinner. Would that be convenient for you?”
I spoke into the phone, my voice tinged with timidity and confusion.
“Mr. Carter? I don’t know him…”
“It’s like this - Mr. Carter saw you at the Serenity Teahouse the other day and thought you looked very similar to an old acquaintance. He’d like to get to know you.”
I inwardly smirked, but outwardly agreed.
“Oh, alright then.”
The dinner was set at a high-end Western restaurant.
Alexander Carter sat across from me, his gaze barely leaving my face.
“Miss Foster, I apologize for being so forward, but you look very much like someone I know,” he began, his voice low.
I lowered my head, fidgeting with the hem of my clothes, putting on an act of nervousness.
“Is that so?”
“Her name was Emily Foster.”
He said the name slowly, watching intently for my reaction.
My heart stung sharply, but my face showed only confusion.
“Emily Foster? I don’t know her…”
He seemed somewhat disappointed, yet also relieved.
For the rest of the time, he probed indirectly about my background.
I responded with half-truths and half-lies, portraying myself as Mia Foster - a girl from a poor family with a sad past.
I deliberately mimicked some of Emily’s small habits, like slightly pursing my lips when drinking water, or gently biting my lower lip when thinking.
These details made Alexander Carter’s gaze grow increasingly complex.
Over the next few days, he frequently asked me out, sent me gifts, and took me to various high-end places.
Bags, jewelry, clothes - all brands and styles that Emily used to like.
The way he looked at me was sometimes gentle, sometimes dazed, as if seeing someone else through me.
I knew that in his eyes, I had become another substitute.
How laughable.
He would never know that this new substitute he was trying to control had the soul of Emily Foster, the one he had abandoned.
Once, while dining with Alexander Carter, I accidentally raised my hand to brush back my hair, revealing a bruise on my wrist that hadn’t fully faded.
Alexander Carter’s gaze instantly froze.
He grabbed my wrist, his face terrifyingly dark.
“How did this happen?”
I hurriedly pulled my hand back, lowering my head, my voice trembling.
“It’s nothing, just an accident.”
“Mia Foster!” He raised his voice. “Tell me, who did this?”