His Get Out of Jail Free Card

I was the publicly acknowledged girlfriend of Jensen Rutherford, the Rutherford heir. For five years, our love was a whirlwind, a blazing inferno.

During the taping of a panel show, the host posed a popular question: What's your partner's 'get out of jail free' card? Without thinking, I blurted out, "His face." That night, I trended on social media with the hashtag #SiennaTheUltimateFaceLover.

Even when he was photographed kissing a starlet on a beach, even when they were seen entering a hotel together, my lovesick brain took over. I made a public declaration: "I'll never break up with him. I'd die without him."

Just when everyone thought I would remain that pathetically devoted forever, Jensen suddenly changed.

He cut ties with all the women on the side. He even knelt in the old Rutherford family chapel for three days and nights, vowing to give up his inheritance just to marry me. Everyone was calling it the prodigal son's return.

The truth didn't come out until the day I went to the cemetery to pay my respects and a paparazzos snapshot went viral.

In the photo, I was kneeling before a tombstone. The inscription read: "In loving memory of my husband, Bryce Rutherford." And the portrait etched into the stone was a dead ringer for Jensen.

The night he learned he was nothing but a substitute, Jensen Rutherford almost threw himself off a rooftop.

When Jensen and I first met, he was fresh off a breakup with his first love.

The girl, Giselle, had squared her jaw and shouted at him, "I'm the leading lady of my own life! I don't need some damn man to write my story!" Then she flew off to Europe to study acting.

Downstairs from his own company's headquarters, Jensen found me.

I was the picture of innocence, a delicate flower. I bore a striking resemblance to Giselle back when she was just starting out.

Jensen only asked me three questions.

"What's your name?"

"Are you single?"

"Want to be my girlfriend? Money and connections are yours for the taking."

In the beginning, Jensen's friends mocked me endlessly. "You're just a placeholder while Giselle's away. You really think a guy like Jensen would give you a second look otherwise?"

Giselle's fans were just as vicious. "Two-bit homewrecker! The second our queen comes back, you'll be the first one he kicks to the curb!"

Their fury was fueled by the fact that Jensen had taken all the resources once poured into Giselle's career and handed them to me.

Giselle, seething, posted a passive-aggressive message on her social media: "Some stand-ins shouldn't get too comfortable. What isn't yours will eventually be taken back."

Countless netizens waited for the drama to unfold. "There's no true love in high society. This girl's just gonna milk him for all he's worth and then bolt."

But five years passed.

I never asked Jensen for a single dime.

When he fell ill on a business trip, I dropped everything and flew overseas to take care of him myself. By the time he recovered, I had collapsed from exhaustion.

When rumors swirled about him and some influencer, I didn't even ask for an explanation before issuing a public statement: "I trust Jensen. I will always stand by him."

Slowly, everyone, including Jensen himself, became convinced that I was deeply, irrevocably in love with him.

Even his buddies changed their tune, finally starting to call me by my name with a hint of respect.

One of them even pulled him aside. "Dude, just settle down with Sienna. If I had someone who treated me like that, I'd know I'd made it in life."

That evening, at the villa in Crestwood Hills, Jensen wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as we looked out the floor-to-ceiling window.

"Sienna," he murmured, "maybe we should..."

Maybe we should get married.

He never finished the sentence.

His phone shattered the moment, ringing loud and shrill.

It was Giselle, her voice thick with tears.

"Jensen... if I said I regret it, is it too late?"

Jensen didn't answer with words.

He just let go of me and bolted out the door, so fast he didn't even stop to change out of his slippers.

Later that night, Giselle posted a new photo.

The caption: Found what was lost.

The picture was of two hands, fingers tightly interlaced. On Jensen's hand, he was still wearing the matching ring I'd given him.

The years away from Jensen had been hard on Giselle.

She couldn't land any roles, lost all her endorsements, and nearly fell victim to the casting couch. She learned the hard way how cruel the world could be and decided she wanted to be that coddled little girl again.

The moment she and Jensen reconciled, she came after my resources.

My agent, Anna, was furious, cursing him out all night. "You're his girlfriend! Technically, she's the other woman here! What gives her the right to be so damn arrogant?"

I knew Jensen didn't love me.

But that was fine.

His love was never what I was after.

At an industry dinner, a few braver souls, convinced I was about to be dumped, cornered me and started pushing drinks on me.

Jensen heard what was happening and stormed in.

He beat them so badly their own mothers wouldn't have recognized them.

I looked at him, and for a moment, the world blurred. Tears streamed down my face before I could stop them.

Jensen, thinking I was scared, pulled me into his arms, his voice a soft murmur.

"It's okay, Sienna. Don't be afraid. No matter what happens, I'll never let anyone hurt you."

My past was a rough one. Id grown up fighting to protect myself. A few greasy industry types weren't enough to make me cry.

It was the way he stood up for me, so fierce and protective. It was just like the man in my dreams.

Jensen's friends tried to comfort me.

"See, Sienna? He really cares about you."

"Giselle is just an old habit he can't quite shake."

For a fleeting second, I almost believed Jensen had developed real feelings for me.

But then he jetted off to Europe with Giselle for a vacation, and the paparazzi were there to capture it all. They looked like any other couple madly in love, kissing by the sea before walking hand-in-hand into a hotel, not emerging until the next morning.

The comments section under my social media posts exploded with ridicule from Giselle's fans.

"Sienna, stop playing dead and say something! The thought of how furious and jealous you must be right now is giving me life!"

"What's stolen must eventually be returned."

"The one and only will always win. She just has to stand there. Some people can kiss ass their whole lives and never even come close."

Jensen's assistant called me.

I was instructed to handle the PR nightmare, just like all the other times.

"Okay," I said. "Tell him to enjoy his trip. I'll take care of it."

This time, though, the video evidence was undeniable. Even if I was willing to lie through my teeth, the public wasn't buying it.

"Sweetheart, are you still defending him? Do you think we're all blind?"

"Oh, right, right. They're just 'friends.' Friendly kisses, you know. Then they went to the hotel and had a sleepover while they gossiped under the covers. That about right?"

"Sienna, if you don't break up with him, we're going to start hating you, too!"

Backed into a corner by public opinion, I had no choice but to double down.

"We're not breaking up! I'd die without him!"

Jensen cut his trip short to come back and plan my birthday party.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, a smug grin spreading across his face.

"Baby, you love me that much, huh?"

During the taping of the show earlier that day, another guest had asked me the same thing.

I had lost a game and had to choose "Truth." The host asked, "What's your partner's 'get out of jail free' card?"

I was hooked up to a lie detector, so I couldn't lie.

With a look of utter sincerity, I said, "His face."

The host did a spit-take, choking on his water for a solid minute.

"...What?!"

But the lie detector didn't buzz.

It was the truth.

It was no secret that Jensen Rutherford, the heir to the Rutherford fortune, was handsome enough to have a fan club based on his looks alone.

Everyone just assumed I was a hopeless, superficial fan of his face.

The guest sitting next to me, Lorraine, was a revered veteran actress known for her blunt honesty. She was the one who had commented "A perfect match" under the photo of Jensen and Giselle kissing, followed by a vomiting emoji. The comment went viral.

Now, looking at me, her face was practically carved with the words, "I can't believe this girl."

"Sienna, honey, do you really love him that much?"

I just smiled. The cameras were rolling, so I let the topic drop.

After the taping, Lorraine invited me to her house for dinner.

Years ago, I had played her daughter in a film. After just a few weeks on set, she had seen through my sweet-as-pie exterior to the defiant heart underneath.

She didn't call me out on my act. In fact, she praised me.

"Good," she'd said. "I like that fire in you. You remind me of myself when I was your age."

Lorraine lived in Northwood. On her living room wall hung a faded old photograph. A younger, blushing Lorraine was leaning against the shoulder of a handsome young man.

I'd heard the stories. She'd had a great love when she was young. He died in a car crash three days before their wedding.

I had lived through what she had lived through. I couldn't imagine how she had survived decades of that pain alone.

"Lorraine, how did you get through all these years?"

She took a sip of her wine, her eyes turning red.

"In the worst moments, I wanted to die. But I still had my parents, my family. I couldn't be that selfish."

"I tried to move on, to see other men. I even considered getting married on a whim just to force myself forward."

"But none of it worked." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her voice wistful. "The more people I met, the more I realized... he was him. No one could ever replace him."

I sighed, my hands clenching the fabric of my dress. My phone was still buzzing with alerts about Jensen's latest escapades. A man wearing the face I knew best, acting like a playboy and turning me into a public laughingstock.

Jensen wasn't him. He could never replace him.

For the first time, the thought of leaving flickered in my mind.

The day before my birthday, Northwood hosted a major charity gala.

Giselle wasn't on the original guest list. But all she had to do was say, "I want to go," and Jensen pulled strings to get her an invitation. He was worried she'd feel out of place, so he stayed by her side the entire night.

When the spotlight found them, Jensen bent down to adjust the train of her gown. Their eyes met, a picture of romantic devotion.

My agent, Anna, slammed her fist on the table. "What the hell is this? I've never seen a cheater and his mistress flaunt it so openly! Aren't they afraid of karma?"

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and forced a small laugh. "They have nothing to fear."

A man with Jensen's power and influence would just be called a romantic, a playboy. He was probably the envy of countless men, able to have it all. As for Giselle, with Jensen backing her, no amount of public outrage could touch her career. The roles she was getting were better than ever.

The world was just that unfair.

My seat was assigned next to Jensen's. But when I arrived, Giselle was already sitting in it.

I pointed to the back. "Your seat is over there."

Giselle shot me a disdainful look and pretended she hadn't heard.

For the first time, I refused to back down. I stood there, staring at her. "Don't play deaf. Get up."

The tension thickened. Jensen tugged on my sleeve. "Sienna, come on, be good. Just let her have it."

"And if I won't?"

Jensen's brow furrowed, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Don't be difficult. If you have a problem, we'll deal with it at home."

I didn't even understand it myself. For five years, I had put up with everything. Why was I letting something so small get to me now?

I choked back a sob. "Jensen, this is the last time."

I shook his hand off and turned, walking toward the back of the room.

Throughout the several-hour-long event, Jensen kept looking back at me. The media barely got a single shot of his face, just the back of his head.

Giselle was not pleased. The moment the gala ended, she complained of a stomachache, making Jensen stay with her at the hospital all night.

The next morning, Jensen's friends started calling.

"Sienna, you have no idea how much effort Jensen put into your birthday party. The gown alone was handmade by dozens of artisans in France!"

"Just forgive him for last night, okay? He knows he messed up and promised he'd make it up to you today."

This was classic Jensen. He knew he was in the wrong but was too proud to apologize, so he'd always send others to plead his case.

I went to the party venue as requested.

But when I arrived, the expressions on everyone's faces were grim.

"What's wrong?"

I followed their gaze up to the second-floor landing.

The magnificent, one-of-a-kind gown was now being worn by Giselle.

Jensen walked over to me. He rubbed his chin, looking guilty. "Giselle fell in love with the dress. Just let her have it, okay? I'll get you something even better later..."

"Jensen." I looked at him, my voice ice. "Is this your idea of making it up to me?"

"That's my dress! Why should I let her have it? I won't!"

"You're playing both sides. Don't you feel disgusting?"

"No, that's not right. The two of you are perfect for each other. You're both disgusting."

In five years, I had always been the gentle, obedient one. Jensen had never seen me like this, my words sharp enough to draw blood, lashing out at him.

He was stunned, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"It's just a dress. Is it really that big of a deal?"

His friends swarmed in, trying to mediate. "It's your birthday! You should be happy. Sienna, don't be angry."

"And you, Jensen, just apologize to her already."

I stood there, silent. After a long moment, I looked at Jensen's face and let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"No need to apologize."

"We're done, Jensen. Let's break up."

The single sentence hung in the air, leaving everyone in the room stunned.

Jensen was the most shocked of all. It took him a long moment to process my words.

"...Break up?" he repeated, as if he'd misheard. "You said break up?"

"Sienna, I dare you to say that again."

Giselle, drawn by the argument, hurried over, her eyes downcast as she apologized. "Sienna, I'm so sorry! I grew up poor, I was never really doted on. When I saw a dress this beautiful for the first time, I just wanted to try it on."

"Don't be mad. I'll take it off and give it back to you right now..."

"Don't bother."

I pulled a pair of scissors from my purse, grabbed Giselle, and shredded the gown she was wearing into ribbons.

"Clothes you've worn belong in the trash!"

Jensen's eyes widened in horror. He shoved me back forcefully.

"Sienna! Have you lost your mind?!"

Giselle collapsed into his arms, clutching her chest and sobbing pitifully.

A sharp pain shot through my palm. I clenched my fist, hiding the wound, and turned to walk out.

"Sienna, wait..."

His friends tried to stop me, but Jensen roared with fury.

"Let her go!"

"Anyone who tries to stop her today is an enemy of mine!"

...

I went back to the villa to grab a few important things, then bought a train ticket back to my hometown of Riverbend that same day.

The scenery blurred past the window. Listening to the whistling wind, I felt like I had spent my entire life as a piece of driftwood on the river of life, always finding a moment of happiness only to have it snatched away by fate.

It was dark by the time I reached Riverbend. It was a small town, and I couldn't find a cab. I dragged my luggage through the rain, walking for over two hours from the train station to the cemetery.

I just missed him so much. I couldn't wait another second to see him.

The old groundskeeper at the cemetery gate tried to send me away.

"Girl, who comes to a grave in the middle of the night? Aren't you afraid of ghosts?"

The emotions I had been holding back the entire journey finally broke. I covered my face and sobbed, a raw, broken sound.

"If only ghosts were real!"

I would have given anything, paid any price, just to see Bryce Rutherford one more time.

Sienna was really gone.

The girl who was always so sweet, who smiled at everyone, so gentle she almost seemed unreal, had exploded over a single dress.

It was like shed swallowed a stick of dynamite.

One of his friends finally couldn't take it anymore. "Jensen, man, you really went too far this time. You can't just keep pushing her around because you know she cares about you."

"Stop being so stubborn. Go get her back."

"Get her back?" Jensen scoffed. "Are you kidding me? She's the one who can't live without me, not the other way around."

"Didn't you see her today? She was acting like a lunatic. That's what happens when you spoil them too much."

In front of everyone, Jensen pulled out his phone and blocked Sienna's number.

"And you guys," he said, "don't contact her for at least a month. She needs to be put in her place, or she'll think she can walk all over me."

The birthday party was missing its guest of honor. The meal was tense and silent.

His assistant hesitated for a long time before cautiously approaching. "Mr. Rutherford, I think there was blood on those scissors..."

Jensen froze.

He sprinted up to the second floor and snatched the scissors off the floor. Sure enough, there were fresh smears of blood on the blades.

His tough-guy act lasted all of three seconds.

First, he started calling her frantically. When the calls wouldn't go through, he unblocked her number.

He was sending a barrage of voice messages as he ran for the door.

[Baby, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!]

[Where are you hurt? Why didn't you tell me?!]

[Please, just answer me. I'm begging you, don't scare me like this...]

His friend, standing nearby, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw his own brain.

"At~ least~ a~ month~," he mimicked. "Hah. Men."

Jensen was just now realizing how little he actually knew about Sienna.

He didn't know where she was from, who her friends or family were, or where she would go now that she'd left Northwood. He had no idea.

His team was working around the clock to find her.

For days, Jensen couldn't eat or sleep. Without her, the massive villa felt like an ice cave, utterly devoid of life.

Giselle came by the house to find him, throwing her arms around him the moment she walked in.

"Jensen, the nuisance is gone. We can finally start over, just us!"

But to his own surprise, Jensen pushed her away.

Giselle froze. "...What was that for?"

Jensen couldn't explain it either. He didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Sienna had become more than just a substitute in his heart.

He loved the faint scent of her long hair, the way her eyes crinkled into crescents when she smiled. He loved the adoring, almost worshipful way she would stare at his face, her eyes overflowing with a love so pure it was impossible to fake.

Since the age of five, Jensen had been an only child. He was doted on, raised in the lap of luxury. He had never lacked for affection.

But Sienna's love was different. It was a torrential, all-consuming force that had seeped into his bones and softened him.

If he had to choose between Giselle and Sienna, Jensen knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his heart had already chosen for him.

His team found her.

Jensen was in the middle of a board meeting. He didn't care. He stood up and ran for the airport.

It had only been five days, but the thought of her was like an itch under his skin he couldn't scratch.

Love was a terrifying thing. It could chip away at a man's pride, piece by piece, until he was reduced to this pathetic, needy version of himself.

Without Sienna, it was like he couldn't breathe.

10

I wasn't surprised when I saw Jensen.

With the Rutherford family's resources, it was only a matter of time before they found me.

Jensen grabbed my hands, inspecting them over and over. He only seemed to relax when he saw the wound had already scabbed over. He apologized profusely and tried to transfer fifty million dollars into my account as compensation.

"You don't have to do this." I pulled my hand away, my voice calm. "We've already broken up. Let's just part on good terms. We can still be friends."

Jensen stared at me for a moment, then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Alright, baby, enough with the angry act. It was my fault, all my fault."

"I promise, no more Giselle, no more anyone else. From now on, it's just you."

"Come back to Northwood with me. We'll get married as soon as we're back."

I sighed, exhausted. "Stop it, Jensen. I'm not going to marry you."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't love you."

The smile in his eyes deepened. He wrapped his arms around my waist in a roguish embrace I couldn't break.

"You don't even blush when you tell a lie like that?"

"I know what you're worried about. You think my family won't approve."

"Don't worry. I'll handle everything. All you have to do is get ready to be my wife."

I learned how he "handled it" from the entertainment news.

He went back to his family and announced his intention to marry me. He was immediately locked in the family chapel and beaten, his back left raw and bloody.

He then knelt in that chapel for three days and three nights, falling gravely ill.

When he woke, he refused to eat or take his medicine, throwing the entire Rutherford household into chaos.

He repeated the same things over and over:

"Even if I have to give up my inheritance and be cast out of this family, I'm going to marry Sienna!"

"And don't even think about causing her trouble. If anything happens to her, I won't live either!"

Jensen was the only heir of his generation. In the end, their concern for him won out. They relented.

Once the news broke, public opinion shifted dramatically. Many who had once called Jensen a scumbag were now marveling at the depth of his devotion.

"A prodigal son's return is worth more than gold. Sienna is so lucky to be loved so deeply by a man like Jensen. I'm so envious."

"After all these years of waiting, Sienna's devotion has finally paid off. Even a stone would be warmed by now."

It seemed the world was exceptionally forgiving of powerful, wealthy men. A thousand acts of cruelty and manipulation could be forgiven if they were sprinkled with just a single grain of sincerity.

For the next few days, Northwood residents kept "bumping into" the young Mr. Rutherford. He was spotted at jewelry stores looking at wedding rings, at bridal boutiques picking out gowns. He must have been in a good mood, because he agreed to a photo with everyone who asked.

But Jensen's good mood didn't last long.

A video of me went viral, igniting a firestorm on social media.

In the clip, I was kneeling at a gravesite, sobbing uncontrollably, as if pouring out all the injustices of the world to the person buried there.

On the stone in front of me, an inscription was clearly visible:

"In loving memory of my husband, Bryce Rutherford."

And the face in the portrait was nearly identical to Jensen's.

That night, Jensen blew up my phone.

11

The constant ringing kept me from sleeping. I went up to the roof for some fresh air. When I turned, I saw a figure standing in the shadows.

From the moment I met Jensen, he had always carried himself with an air of untouchable, easy confidence. I had never seen him look so broken. He had rushed to Riverbend in the middle of the night, looking haggard and exhausted. His eyes were so red they looked like they might start bleeding. He was on the verge of a complete breakdown.

"Sienna, I'm going to ask you some questions, and you have to answer me honestly. No more lies."

I nodded. "Okay."

"You were married?"

"No."

"Then what does 'late husband' mean?"

"We never made it to the altar. He passed away before we could. I wanted to give him that title."

"Last question." Jensen's jaw was tight, the veins on his forehead bulging as he fought back tears. "Were you... using me as his replacement all this time?"

I was silent for a moment.

"Yes."

The truth, once spoken, was a release for me, too.

"Sienna..." His voice cracked. "You're a cruel, cruel woman."

Jensen turned his back to me. His tall frame seemed to collapse in on itself, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I didn't understand why he was so upset.

"Jensen, in your heart, I was just Giselle's replacement anyway. I'd say we're even."

"From now on, just be with her. I won't be in your way anymore."

"No... Don't go!"

He shot up, trapping me in his arms and crushing his lips against mine in a desperate, bruising kiss. I bit down hard, tasting blood, but he wouldn't let go.

"I don't want her, I want you!"

"Sienna, baby, come back with me. We'll get married! I've arranged everything!"

I was just so tired. If I had known getting away from him would be this much trouble, I never would have gotten involved in the first place.

"Jensen, are you incapable of understanding plain English? I will never marry you."

"The man I love is not you."

Jensen's tall figure swayed, as if he might fall over.

"So it's true? The living can never compete with the dead?"

The next second, he climbed over the rooftop railing, half his body dangling in the open air. One more step and he would fall.

Twenty-nine floors.

A fall from that height would be fatal.

"If I die, too, will you love me the way you loved him?"

A violent tremor shot through me. My eyes widened in shock.

He was insane.

The wind howled across the rooftop. I turned and walked away without a single glance back.

Jensen wouldn't really jump. He couldn't.

His life was too rich, too vibrant. Love was just a small part of it.

Unlike me. My heart was so small, it only had room for one person.

The day Bryce Rutherford died, a part of me died with him, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell, barely surviving.

A long time later, a man's voice, choked with rage, echoed from the rooftop.

"Sienna, I hate you!"

"I'll make you pay for this."

"You just wait."

12

Jensen was wrong.

It wasn't that the living couldn't compete with the dead.

It was that from the moment Bryce Rutherford entered my life, every other man in the world ceased to exist for me.