Contract Marriage: The President's Stand-in Lover - Chapter 5:

Their trip to Paris ended in a carefully constructed calm, cold and distant.

Gu Chen seemed to have erased the unpleasant memory of that night’s party,

or perhaps he had simply chosen to forget it. He returned to his usual efficiency,

his tone stripped of warmth, and led Wei An to the next destination of their s

o-called honeymoon Venice.

The city on water welcomed them with its quiet magic.

The narrow canals shimmered in the light, the rippling reflections of o

ld buildings painting a dream suspended above the waves.

Their suite overlooked the Grand Canal, where gondolas drifted lazily beneath the balcony.

It was the kind of scene that should have felt romantic,

yet Wei An’s heart could not touch its beauty.

The shadow of Elizabeth and Gu Chen’s strange reaction that night lingered in her mind like a

thorn she could neither pull out nor ignore. She moved more carefully now, spoke less, and

observed him from a quiet distance, as if searching for answers hidden in his expression.

Gu Chen must have noticed her silence, but he said nothing.

During the day, he played the part of a courteous host, taking her on short rides through the canals

or to St. Mark’s Square. Yet even those moments carried a certain distance, as though they were simply two travelers sharing the same itinerary, not husband and wife.

That afternoon, he received an urgent call for a video conference and returned to his study to

handle it. Wei An was left alone in the suite, surrounded by the soft hum of

Venetian waters and the faint ticking of the clock.

A thought surfaced perhaps she could tidy his papers, just to seem like a dutiful wife.

It wasn’t curiosity, she told herself. Or maybe it was, a little.

She knew Gu Chen’s habits. The non-confidential documents he brought along were usually kept in

the desk drawer in the sitting room. She hesitated for a moment before opening it.

Everything inside was meticulously organized — files, pens, folders.

She began arranging a small stack of papers that looked slightly out of place.

As she lifted them, a yellowed photograph slipped free, gliding soundlessly onto the carpet.

Wei An bent down to pick it up. The moment her eyes fell upon the image, her body went rigid.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The photograph showed a young girl, seventeen or eighteen perhaps, standing on a sunlit field.

She wore a simple dress and smiled with the innocence of a world untouched by sorrow.

Her eyes curved like crescents when she smiled.

And she looked like Wei An.

Not just a vague resemblance the same eyes, the same gentle lift of the lips.

The only difference was that the girl in the photo had a light in her gaze

that had long since faded from Wei An’s.

A chill ran through her.

Who is she? Why does she look so much like me?

Elizabeth’s mocking tone at the party echoed in her ears.

Not your type, she had said.

Then suddenly, everything clicked a poisonous clarity flooding her mind.

A substitute.

She was a substitute.

The photograph, Elizabeth’s words, Gu Chen’s strange reaction that night

every detail lined up with cruel precision, forming a truth that left no room for denial.

He hadn’t chosen her because she was suitable, or capable, or even convenient.

He had chosen her because she looked like someone else.

Someone he couldn’t have. Someone he had lost.

The realization hit her like a storm. Her knees weakened, and she clutched the edge of the desk to

steady herself. A sharp pain clenched her chest, each heartbeat heavy and suffocating.

Wei An, what a fool you are. You thought this was a fair trade,

but you’ve been living inside someone else’s shadow from the very beginning.

Every flicker in his eyes, every fleeting gentleness — it wasn’t for you. It was for her.

Her hands trembled as she stared at the photograph,

her nails pressing so hard into the glossy paper that it nearly tore.

The door clicked open behind her. Footsteps approached.

Gu Chen was done with his meeting.

Panic shot through her. She hurriedly slipped the photo back into the folder,

pushed everything into the drawer, and turned around, forcing a stiff,

unnatural smile onto her face.

You’re done with work? Her voice trembled despite her effort to sound calm.

Gu Chen loosened his tie, his expression unreadable.

He gave her a brief look, and his brow furrowed slightly.

You look pale. Are you alright?

He noticed. But was that concern or suspicion that his substitute might be breaking down?

I’m fine, she murmured, lowering her eyes so he wouldn’t see the storm behind them.

Just tired. Maybe still dizzy from the boat ride.

He nodded and poured her a glass of water. Drink some. We’ll have dinner later.

The restaurant has a perfect view of the canal.

Before, such thoughtfulness might have touched her. Now, it only sounded cruel.

Are you watching the view with me — or through me, with her?

She accepted the glass, her fingers cold around it. Thank you, she said softly.

That night, they dined in a restaurant that glowed above the water,

candlelight dancing across the ripples. Plates of exquisite food were set before her,

but every bite turned to ash.

Gu Chen spoke occasionally, his tone polite, detached. She nodded, smiled when she had to, but her mind was far away — circling around the girl in the photo, around the ghost whose shadow stretched between them.

When he looked away toward the night skyline, she watched him closely.

Was he remembering someone? Was he seeing another face overlaying hers?

Her chest ached with every thought.

He noticed her distraction. Wei An, what’s wrong?

You’ve been off since this afternoon. His voice carried quiet scrutiny.

Say it. Ask him. Tell him you saw the photo, demand to know who she was.

Demand to know if you’re just a replacement.

No, you can’t. You have no right to ask.

The contract forbids questions about the past. If you ask, you lose everything.

Her heart waged war with itself — fury against fear, pride against survival.

In the end, fear won.

She forced herself to smile, though her lips trembled. It’s nothing. I just… miss home a little.

Even she could hear how hollow it sounded.

Gu Chen’s gaze lingered on her for a few seconds, searching, then softened into indifference.

He said nothing more and turned back to the view outside.

At that moment, Wei An felt something inside her quietly collapse.

Whatever fragile trust they’d built was gone. Between them now lay an invisible gulf,

deep and unbridgeable.

Back at the hotel, she escaped to her room and locked the door.

Leaning against the cool wood, she slid down until she sat on the floor, her body shaking.

Tears broke free, soundless but endless.

She had believed she could play her role calmly, guard her heart,

and treat this marriage like a business deal. But she had overestimated her strength.

Knowing she was merely a substitute shattered her.

It wasn’t just humiliation it was the unbearable pain of being unseen, unloved, and unwanted.

Wei An, what are you going to do now?

She curled into herself in the dark, a wounded creature licking her own wounds, as the weight of

the truth pressed down on her. The future stretched before her like a black ocean,

endless and terrifying.

Outside her room, Gu Chen stood silently by the window, staring out at the Venetian night.

His brow was furrowed, his thoughts heavy.

He could sense her change, the quiet sorrow in her eyes, the distance in her tone.

But he said nothing. He was too used to control, too proud to explain.

He thought her silence was just another fleeting mood that would pass.

He didn’t know that a seed named truth had already been planted in her heart

one that would soon grow into a storm he could no longer contain.