Contract Marriage: The President's Stand-in Lover - Chapter 6:

From Venice

On the flight back from Venice, Vivian kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep.

She couldn’t face Gu Chen. Couldn’t look at that striking,

perfectly sculpted face without feeling the coldness that came with it.

Every accidental glance between them made her heart tighten,

as if her secrets might spill out and be laid bare beneath his gaze.

A substitute. That’s all I am a substitute.

The thought echoed like a curse, gnawing at the last remnants of her sanity and pride.

When the plane landed and they returned to that familiar yet suffocating

villa luxurious, grand, and cold Vivian felt no sense of homecoming.

Only the weight of confinement.

Every piece of furniture, every detail, reminded her of the role she’d been assigned,

the identity she had been forced to wear.

Tomorrow, you’ll start getting familiar with the Gu Foundation.

Gu Chen handed his coat to a servant, his tone even, impersonal like a CEO issuing instructions.

Wang Ma will arrange your driver and schedule.

Secretary Chen will brief you on your duties.

Alright, Vivian murmured, eyes lowered.

He paused mid-step, sensing something off in her silence.

His gaze lingered briefly on her, heavy and assessing.

She could feel it burning the top of her head, but she didn’t look up.

What are you looking for, Vivian? she mocked herself.

Trying to see if he’s looking through you to find another woman’s shadow?

He said nothing more, and went upstairs.

The next morning, Vivian arrived at the Gu Foundation on time.

Secretary Chen, a composed woman in her forties with an efficient air, greeted her politely

but the politeness carried distance, even faint judgment.

She led Vivian to a bright, spacious office and briefly introduced the

foundation’s structure and its ongoing projects.

Mrs. Gu, you can start by reviewing these materials. If you need anything, let me know.

When the door closed, Vivian sat alone behind the vast desk, staring at the piles of documents

before her. The work felt alien devoid of the passion and creativity she once had at her art gallery.

Here, she was no longer an artist. She was an ornament.

A symbol of status a decorative extension of the title “Mrs. Gu.”

So this is what you traded your freedom for, Lin Vivian?

A gilded cage. A meaningless job. A marriage built on substitution.

The thought hollowed her out. She forced herself to pick up a report on rural education programs,

reading line by line, trying to anchor herself in the tangible

because tasks, at least, didn’t ache.

Days blurred together. Vivian adjusted mechanically to her new rhythm.

Daytime: quiet paperwork, empty meetings.

Night: silence in the villa, carefully avoiding crossing paths with Gu Chen.

Even under the same roof, they existed like parallel lines close, yet never touching.

Gu Chen was busier than ever. Late nights at the office, some nights never returning at all.

He seemed unaware or indifferent to her deliberate distance.

That indifference hurt, but in a twisted way, it also felt safe.

One afternoon, Vivian was overseeing supplies for a donation shipment to a rural school.

Noticing loose packaging, she knelt to retie the ropes herself.

The coarse fibers scraped her wrists, leaving raw red marks.

The sting felt oddly comforting at least it was real.

Mrs. Gu! a staff member gasped, hurrying over.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

Please, let us handle it!

Vivian smiled faintly. It’s alright. I just wanted to do something that matters.

That evening, when she returned to the villa, Gu Chen was already home sitting on the sofa,

eyes on the financial news.

Grandfather’s coming to dinner tomorrow, he said evenly.

He wants to see how we’re doing after the wedding.

Vivian’s stomach tightened. Grandfather Gu the only one who didn’t know the truth about their

contract was also the one they had to deceive most convincingly.

I understand, she said quietly, turning toward the stairs.

What happened to your hand?

His voice cut through the silence, sharper than usual.

She looked down. The marks on her wrist had darkened into angry welts.

She instinctively hid her hands behind her back.

Just a scratch. Nothing serious.

But Gu Chen was already standing, crossing the room in long strides.

He caught her wrist before she could move. His palm was warm; his grip firm.

The heat of his touch made her flinch, as if scalded.

This happened at the foundation, didn’t it? His tone wasn’t a question.

It’s nothing, she said, trying to pull away. But he didn’t let go.

His brows drew together.

As Mrs. Gu, your job is to represent us to manage, to oversee.

Not to do manual labor.

The staff are there for that.

His reprimand was the spark that lit a fire she had kept buried too long.

Mrs. Gu. Always Mrs. Gu. Is that all I am to you? A title? A doll too delicate to move?

A stand-in for someone else’s memory?

Her voice shook, not with fear, but anger. For the first time, she looked straight into his eyes.

I wanted to help. I wanted to do something that actually means something.

Not sit in an office pretending to work while the world passes by.

Gu Chen blinked, surprised by the sudden defiance. His tone cooled.

Work at the foundation is meaningful.

That’s not the kind of meaning I want! she cried. Tears welled up.

I want to create value with my own hands, my own effort

not hide behind the halo of being ‘Mrs. Gu.’

Living like this makes me feel… worthless.

Her last word broke on a sob.

He stared at her, silent, his grip loosening. For a moment,

something unreadable flickered behind his eyes confusion, maybe even guilt.

You don’t have to prove yourself this way, he said finally, voice softer but still edged with control.

As my wife, your place is

Your wife?

Her interruption sliced through his sentence like glass.

Why did you marry me, Gu Chen? Was it really just to soothe your grandfather?

The air froze between them.

His gaze darkened instantly, the faint warmth vanishing. This isn’t your concern.

We agreed not to interfere in each other’s affairs or motives.

Not my concern? She laughed bitterly, tears spilling down her face.

I sold myself into this marriage, and you’re saying I don’t even have the right to know why?

Was it because of Elizabeth? Did you marry me to forget her or replace her?

Her voice cracked. The word substitute hovered on the tip of her tongue,

but pride stopped her from saying it. She had already seen the photo

already knew too much but she would not beg him to confirm it.

At the mention of Elizabeth, Gu Chen’s face turned to stone.

He released her hand abruptly, as if burned.

The air around him seemed to drop in temperature.

Lin Vivian.

He spoke her name like a warning. Each word sharp, precise, cutting.

You’ve crossed the line. Remember who you are.

You have no right to question my past or my reasons.

His words struck her like shards of ice, each syllable piercing deeper until she could hardly breathe.

Look at him, she thought. Angry because you touched a nerve. You pathetic fool.

She looked at him this cold, beautiful man and felt the last fragile thread of hope snap.

Without another word, she turned and ran upstairs, her figure vanishing around the corner.

Gu Chen stood where she’d left him, chest rising and falling with restrained fury.

Beneath it, something else churned confusion, irritation,

a flicker of emotion he refused to name.

He loosened his tie, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and drained it in one go.

What does she know?

Did Elizabeth tell her something?

Or… did she find out herself?

He stared into the dark night beyond the window, for the first time realizing that his obedient,

contract-bound wife might not be as simple or controllable as he thought.

Upstairs, Vivian buried her face into the pillow and wept soundlessly.

The confrontation hadn’t brought her answers only deeper confusion and pain.

Tomorrow, she would have to smile again. Pretend again.

Put the mask on, Lin Vivian. At least for Grandfather’s sake, keep the illusion perfect.

In the dim light, she whispered the command to herself. Her grief, her anger, her pride

all locked away beneath the flawless mask of Mrs. Gu.

How long could she keep wearing it?

Even she didn’t know.