Chapter 1

In her seventh year of working as a professional haunted house sleeper to save up for her own wedding, Clara received a high-paying order.

[Urgent! Urgent! I haven't been sleeping well since I got pregnant. Could this be related to the fact that my husband's ex-girlfriend had three children who died here?!]

Arriving at the address noted in the order, Clara stared at the familiar villa, her expression momentarily stunned.

The Oakwood Estate, Building 7—the home where she and Julian had lived for seven years before he went bankrupt.

Even more coincidentally, she, too, had lost three children in this very house. An incredible thought suddenly flashed through her mind.

Before she could dwell on it, a message popped up on her phone from Julian.

[Honey, a big job came up tonight. It pays a hundred bucks.

Stay home and be good. I'll bring you something delicious when I get back.]

Looking at the attached photo of him working hard at the construction site, Clara’s suspicions instantly vanished. The corners of her lips curved upward involuntarily.

Just then, the tightly closed villa door was suddenly opened from the inside.

Clara reflexively pulled up her professional fake smile, ready to speak.

But the moment their eyes met, her smile stiffened, and the words caught in her throat.

How could the man who had just told her on the phone that he was working overtime at a construction site be here?

Clara frantically dug her nails into her palms to maintain her composure.

She took a deep breath, trying to find a trace of guilt in his eyes.

However, the man only looked at her with a calm, emotionless expression.

She stiffened and opened her mouth, about to speak.

A sweet, delicate voice suddenly cut in.

"Honey, why are you standing there? Hurry up and invite our guest in!"

Honey…

Clara’s eyes reddened almost instantly, and her nose stung uncontrollably.

So, the boyfriend she had been with for ten years had become someone else’s husband, long ago, without her ever knowing.

In her daze, a petite woman walked out, supporting her belly. A pink diamond the size of a pigeon egg on her necklace glittered blindingly.

Clara instinctively clutched her patched sleeves, her heart feeling as if it were being squeezed, making it hard for her to breathe.

She was wearing secondhand clothes she had bought for nine-point-nine last year.

When Julian found out, he had smiled and praised her: "My wife is so good at managing our finances."

But it wasn’t that she was born to be frugal.

It was just that these seven years of poverty had been too bitter, and the nine-figure debt was like a blade hanging over her head.

She felt sorry for his struggle to make a living carrying bricks at construction sites, so no matter how bitter or tired she was, she would only bite her lip and swallow it down.

But now, looking at the girl in front of her, dressed in designer brands, where a single chip of diamond on her dress could cover their entire year's living expenses, Clara suddenly laughed aloud, though tears were the first to fall.

So, the one who is truly loved never needs to be "good at managing finances."

Upon seeing her, Ivy’s round eyes were filled with surprise. She exclaimed, "You… you’re actually a girl?"

Halfway through, she seemed to realize something and explained in a soft voice, "I’m sorry, I was just so surprised. But your husband is really something, letting a girl like you do this kind of work. That’s so irresponsible—"

Julian coughed lightly, cutting her off.

"Let’s go inside. It’s windy out here."

Ivy pursed her lips and said "Oh," then playfully winked at Clara.

"Big sister, let me tell you a secret—these old men are the most troublesome."

"Ever since I got pregnant, he’s fired all the nannies. He insists on cooking every meal himself, washing every piece of clothing by hand, and keeping watch over me all day, never leaving my side. It’s so annoying."

She prattled on endlessly. Clara listened quietly, her face devoid of any reaction.

But the hand hanging by her side gripped so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and her fingernails snapped, blood seeping out.

Last month, she had suffered from a high fever and lost her appetite, just wanting a simple bowl of porridge. She had begged Julian with a voice raspy from dehydration.

But Julian had only thrown a cold, "Just order takeout yourself," before walking away in a hurry, rushing off to prepare a prenatal meal for another woman.

And she had burned with fever for three days, developing a severe lung infection, nearly dying in that rental apartment alone.

After a long silence, Clara heard her own voice, raspy and hoarse.

"Well… you’re very happy, then."

Unlike her—together for ten years, only to find that even a bowl of white porridge had become a luxury.

After arranging the work, Ivy yawned and went upstairs to rest.

The massive villa was left with only her and the man standing before her.

She took a deep breath, and after a long moment of hesitation, finally spoke.

"Shouldn’t… shouldn't you give me an explanation?"

Hearing her, the man paused, a flash of confusion appearing in his eyes.

"Pardon me, miss, do we… know each other?"

Clara tugged at the corner of her lips, offering a self-deprecating smile.

"Julian, it’s come to this—are you going to keep pretending?"

The man seemed to process this for a moment before speaking cautiously.

"Miss Clara, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. My name is Julian…"

Clara found it ridiculous and was about to demand an answer.

But in the next second, a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around her shoulders from behind, and a familiar voice came from above her head.

"Honey, didn't I tell you to rest? Why did you come out to pick up a part-time job again?"

Chapter 2

Clara froze in place, taking a long, long moment to look up.

She found herself staring directly into the cold, noble face of Julian.

Her breath hitched, and her gaze shifted involuntarily back and forth between the man opposite her and the person who had just been holding her.

Two identical faces.

Julian, standing across from her, was clearly stunned as well, his eyes filled with shock.

"Miss Clara, no wonder you mistook me for someone else. Your husband... he really does look a lot like me."

Hearing this, the man holding Clara arched a brow and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Honey, did you just mistake him for me?"

His playful voice carried a hint of grievance.

"You couldn't even recognize your own husband? Don't let this happen again."

By the time they returned to their rental apartment via the subway, Clara still hadn't recovered from the shock of what had happened.

Watching the man bustling about in their small, cramped home, she couldn't help but wonder: was everything that happened today truly just a misunderstanding?

After thinking for a long time, she took a deep breath and asked tentatively.

"Didn't you say you were working overtime tonight? How did you suddenly end up finding me?"

Julian didn't stop what he was doing and answered nonchalantly.

"I heard from Mrs. Miller that you went out for a part-time job again. I was so worried that I dropped my work to come find you."

He paused, his voice taking on a slightly coquettish tone.

"Honey, you aren't mad at me, are you?"

Clara fell silent. Could there really be two people in the world who looked exactly the same?

She hesitated, then looked straight at Julian, her voice hardening.

"Do you remember where we put the souvenirs we brought back from our trip to Southern Europe?"

As she finished, she held her breath, her heart rate slowing significantly.

Julian looked slightly taken aback, then brushed it off.

"I guess they must have been lost when we moved."

Boom—

Clara’s heart plummeted. Her body felt as if it had been frozen solid, her breathing growing cold inch by inch.

They had never been to Southern Europe. The man in front of her was not the real Julian.

But just as she was about to lose her strength and slide to the floor, a soft chuckle came from behind her.

"Well, honey, did I play my part well?"

"If I didn't have a good memory, I would have really been tripped up by you, seeing as we’ve never actually been to Southern Europe."

The tight string in Clara’s heart snapped instantly. Her suspicions evaporated, and she couldn't help but hug him tightly.

Thank goodness. Thank goodness everything today was just a misunderstanding.

Late that night, Julian brought her a glass of milk as usual.

Clara accidentally knocked it over, spilling it across the floor. She didn't think much of it and drifted into a deep sleep.

She was startled awake by voices coming from outside the door.