Nathaniel Fu looked down at her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His deep, narrow eyes glinted with amusement."I knew a long time ago," he said. "I knew from the very first night we were together at the bar."
"What?" Celia froze.
She had always known she wouldn't be able to keep this secret forever. But she never expected he had known from the very beginning.
That night at the bar...No wonder he'd forced himself on her.
Which meant that every time they were together afterward, he was fully aware she was only a stand-in. Yet he still played with her feelings like it was all some twisted game.
"You knew… and yet you still…" she stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"Still kept you by my side?" Nathaniel interrupted lazily, his voice laced with mockery. "I watched the little stand-in charade play out from the start. I deliberately sent Sylvia away. I even had her call you into my bed."
He leaned in, his voice low and wicked. "Wasn't it you who came to keep me company?"
Keep him company?
Celia felt a cold gust rip through her chest. Her face turned ghostly pale. She shoved him, trying to escape.
But Nathaniel caught her effortlessly, wrapping her back into his iron grip. "Trying to run? You think you can just crawl into my bed and leave whenever you want?"
She was trapped against the bed, her pale eyes filled with unshed tears."Why are you doing this?" she asked, voice shaking.
"Why?" He scoffed. "You came to me willingly. You didn't even want money. So why shouldn't I play along? Don't pretend you're some innocent girl. Didn't you enjoy every second with me?"
His gaze roamed over her face, unabashed and taunting.
Celia felt her blood run cold. Her palm swung up, ready to slap him.
But Nathaniel was faster. He caught her wrist mid-air with his long fingers and pinned her down."You don't want to admit it? Should I help you remember who was moaning 'husband' in bed again and again? Who said 'Nathaniel Fu is my husband' like it was some sacred vow?"
"Stop it!"She didn't want to hear another word.
It was all a game to him. He had known the truth all along. How could she and Sylvia ever hope to outsmart a man like him? He effortlessly got Sylvia out of the picture and coaxed her into his bed—just so he could humiliate her later.
When he heard her calling him "husband," he must've laughed at her deep inside, mocking how easily she fell.
At first, it was her and Sylvia playing the substitute game. But now—now it was all Nathaniel's game.
Seeing her shut down, he took her phone and opened WeChat."Listen," he murmured, cruel amusement in his voice, as he played back the voice message of her calling him "husband." He played it over and over again.
The sound of her own voice—soft, sweet, submissive—rang in her ears like a knife slicing through her dignity.
Celia's shame and rage reached a boiling point. She struggled violently."Let me go, Nathaniel Fu! I hate you!" she cried.
Her words stopped him for a beat. His eyes flared red with something wild.
"Hate me?" His laugh was cold and sharp. "You're the one who started the stand-in game. Now you can't handle it?"
"You don't get to run now," he growled. "If you couldn't play the game, why did you ever step onto the board?"
"Get out! Don't touch me!" Celia screamed, kicking and clawing at him. Her nails scratched a deep gash across his neck, drawing blood.
Nathaniel's expression darkened as his blood boiled.
He leaned in, sealing her lips with his.
Celia turned her head away in refusal. All the so-called intimacy they'd shared—every word, every touch—had been calculated, a humiliation.
She bit down hard on his lower lip, and the taste of blood filled both their mouths.
"You hate me, you won't let me touch you. Fine. Then who do you want touching you instead? My nephew?" he spat.
He buried his face in her hair, his breath hot and dangerous."How many times have you been with him? Enough to lose your mind over him?"