I Was Just His 70% Replica—So I Took Half His Empire

I used to be Christian Sterlings placeholder. But after years of breaking up and making up, Christian convinced meand himselfthat I was his true love. He claimed Summer Vance, his gilded muse, was ancient history.

Once the misunderstandings were cleared, we finally tied the knot in a lavish wedding.

But only a year into our marriage, I discovered he was still collecting memorabilia of his precious Summer.

And worse? I was just one of his many collectibles.

A leopard never changes its spots. So, I decided to pack my bags, drain his bank accounts, and run.

Traveling the world with over a hundred million dollars in my pocket sounds infinitely better than being the miserable Mrs. Sterling, doesn't it?

On our first wedding anniversary, I spent four hours slow-cooking Christian's favorite organic chicken broth.

I stood in the dining room, looking up at our wedding portrait on the wall. In the photo, Christians eyes were filled with an intense, melting tenderness.

Everyone in our social circle said I, Vivian Lane, must have won the husband lottery. They said it was a miracle I went from being Summers cheap replacement to the official Mrs. Sterling.

It was no secret in high society that Christian had an ex-girlfriend he loved to his very bones: Summer Vance.

After Summer moved abroad, Christian met me. Because my eyes and brows looked about seventy percent like hers, he began to pursue me with a near-obsessive intensity.

I had suffered and struggled because of it. I even tried to cut ties completely.

But Christians gentle, relentless affection was suffocatingly perfect. After breaking up and getting back together more times than I could count, my heart finally softened.

He would drive thirty miles in the dead of winter just to deliver a hot matcha latte to my office when I worked late.

He would cancel million-dollar contracts just to stay by my side at the hospital when I caught a fever.

And when his elitist parents looked down on my family background, he held my hand firmly and declared to the media, "Im marrying Vivian, and no one else."

He proved with his actions that I wasn't anyone's shadow.

He loved me. Vivian.

At our wedding, he slipped a massive diamond ring onto my finger, kissed the back of my hand with absolute devotion, and choked up. "Vivian, thank you for finally showing me the way home."

At that moment, I believed I was the happiest woman alive.

Our first year of marriage was pure bliss.

He spoiled me like a princess, granting my every whim.

I truly believed that the chapter about his gilded muse had been closed forever.

Until today.

In his private study, I found a beautifully wrapped velvet box.

It was palm-sized, emerald green, and tied with a silver silk ribbon. It looked incredibly expensive.

My heart began to hammer against my ribs.

Was this our anniversary gift? But he had already given me a diamond tennis bracelet this morning.

With trembling fingers, I untied the ribbon.

The box clicked open. Inside lay a necklace.

It was a platinum chain with a small, intricately carved crescent moon pendant.

It was stunning, but it wasn't my style at all.

I only wore minimalist, geometric jewelry. Christian knew this; every gift he bought me always aligned perfectly with my aesthetic.

The smile froze on my face.

Could it be...?

I stared at the crescent moon, and a name screamed in my headSummer.

Summer Vance was obsessed with anything related to the moon and stars.

I remembered seeing an old photo of her. On her wrist, she had worn a moon-shaped bracelet.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, making me shake violently.

Suddenly, the front door clicked. Christian was home.

As if burned, I snapped the box shut and shoved it back into the depths of the drawer.

I rushed out of the study, forcing a natural smile. "You're home! Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready."

Christian walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Nothing beats coming home to you. That broth smells amazing. You're the best, Vivian."

His warm breath brushed against my ear, but I couldn't stop myself from trembling slightly.

At the dinner table, I acted casual. "Oh, by the way, I stopped by your office today. I noticed your assistant was wearing a new bracelet. A moon shape. Is that style trending lately?"

Christians hand paused mid-air. "Oh, that? It was just a corporate gift from a vendor. They sent a bunch to her department. Just some cheap retail stuff, I didn't really look at it."

He spoke too fast, too smoothly. It sounded like a script he had rehearsed a thousand times in his head.

My heart sank into a cold, dark abyss.

We had been together for three years and married for one. I thought I knew everything about him.

Yet, at this moment, I realized with terrifying clarity that Christian lied just as beautifully as he whispered sweet nothings.

That night, I blamed a headache and slept facing away from him.

At midnight, his phone screen lit up. A notification popped up.

I squinted, reading the text clearly in the dim light.

The contact name was: Luna ??

The text read: "Thank you for the necklace, Mr. Sterling. I love it so much."

Luna.

The moon.

That crescent moon necklace that wasn't meant for me.

I closed my eyes, feeling like a drowning victim. My seemingly perfect marriage was sinking into a pitch-black ocean.

So, I wasn't the end of his search for a replacement. I was just a temporary port.

And now, a new "moon" had arrived.

The next day, I was completely checked out.

The name "Luna" was like a poisoned thorn festering in my chest.

In the afternoon, I fabricated a lie about dropping off some urgent financial documents and drove over to his corporate headquarters.

Instead of torturing myself with doubts, I wanted to see the truth.

Some things must be seen with your own eyes before you can completely let go.

Christians company occupied the top floors of a prestigious skyscraper in the financial district. The receptionist immediately offered a sweet, professional smile. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Sterling. Mr. Sterling is in a board meeting. Would you like to wait in the executive lounge?"

"No, thank you. I'll just wait here," I replied with a polite smile, but my eyes were already scanning the open-concept office space.

I had imagined a hundred versions of "Luna."

Maybe she was a sultry femme fatale, or a sharp, sophisticated corporate climber.

But I never expected her to look like this.

Near the reception desk, a girl in a white sundress was laughing and chatting with a coworker.

She had long, straight, jet-black hairexactly like Summers in those college photos.

When she laughed, the corners of her eyes tilted down slightly, giving her an innocent, vulnerable look.

But most importantly, around her pale neck, the silver crescent moon pendant caught the harsh fluorescent light, glaring right into my eyes.

My blood turned to ice.

The resemblance was uncanny.

She looked far more like a young, flawless Summer than I did now.

Over the years of our marriage, I had gradually shed the awkward, imitated habits of Summer and become more like my true self.

The irony was painful. I thought I was finally allowed to be Vivian, but it turned out the ghost of Summer was the only thing that actually mattered to him.

A passing employee waved at her. "Hey, Luna, grab lunch with us later?"

The girl beamed. "Sure thing!"

Luna.

So her real name was Luna Brooks.

I caught sight of her intern badge: Luna Brooks, Marketing Intern.

An intern.

Christians lie was a brutal slap to my face, leaving it burning with humiliation.

"Corporate vendor gift?" "Sent to her whole department?" All complete garbage.

He had deliberately gone out of his way to buy a special welcoming gift for this fresh, new replica of his ex.

While I stood there frozen, the conference room doors opened.

Christian emerged, flanked by a dozen executives. He spotted me immediately.

He walked over quickly, naturally wrapping his arm around my waist in front of everyone. "Vivian? What are you doing here? You should have called."

His hand was warm against my lower back, but it made me shudder.

I looked past his shoulder, staring directly at Luna.

Luna was looking back at us. Her gaze flickered between Christian and me with a mix of curiosity and subtle calculation.

Christian clearly noticed where I was looking.

His body went rigid for a split second. Then, he did something that made my heart turn to ash.

He turned around and called out in a professional, yet overly familiar tone, "Luna, come over here for a second."

Luna walked over with light, airy steps, looking as innocent as a lamb.

"Vivian, this is our new marketing intern, Luna Brooks."

Christians voice was smooth, showing no cracks. "Luna, this is my wife."

"Luna."

He called her by her first name, so casually, right in front of me.

Luna smiled, her eyes crinkling into sweet half-moons. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sterling. Im Luna. Everyone in the office talks about you. They say you and Mr. Sterling are goals."

She tilted her head up, and that crescent moon necklace dangled right before my eyes.

It was blinding.

My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe.

But I knew I couldn't lose my cool now.

I forced a elegant, poised smile.

"Nice to meet you, Luna. You must be highly capable to land an internship at Sterling Corp at such a young age."

I gently tightened my grip on Christians arm, claiming my territory with a soft but firm tone. "Christian has notoriously high standards when it comes to work."

I emphasized "Christian" and "my husband" with subtle precision.

Lunas smile faltered for a microsecond before returning to its sweet mask. "You're absolutely right, Mrs. Sterling. I'll make sure to work even harder."

She was good.

The defiance in her eyes was practically dripping, yet she played the naive girl flawlessly.

Christian seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He patted my hand and told Luna, "Alright, get back to work." Then he whispered to me, "Come on, let's go home."

Back in the quiet interior of our Bentley, the silence was suffocating.

It wasn't until we merged onto the highway that I finally broke the quiet.

"That necklace wasn't a vendor gift, was it?" I stared out the window at the passing city skyline, my voice as flat as if I were discussing the weather.

Christians grip on the steering wheel tightened. He let out a long, weary sigh. "Vivian, do we really have to do this?"

"Do what?" I turned my head to look at him. "Is it wrong of me to ask? Or did you plan on lying to me forever?"

"I wasn't trying to lie to you!" His voice spiked, laced with the irritation of being caught. "Fine. I bought her the necklace. She's just an intern, okay? She moved here all by herself from a small town, working crazy hours, struggling to make rent. I felt bad for her and wanted to show some support. That's it!"

"Support?" I let out a cold laugh. "Since when does the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company personally curate jewelry for struggling interns? Should I write you a card praising your charity work?"

"Vivian!" Christian slammed his hand on the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve slightly.

He took a deep breath, softening his tone. "I just... when I look at her, I see a bit of Summer when she was younger. You know I've moved on. But seeing someone who looks like her brings back old memories. I lied because I didn't want you to overthink it. It was just a stupid, nostalgic whim. Can we please just drop it?"

Summer. He brought her up again.

Then he started listing all the sweet things we had done over the past year, trying to prove how much he cared about me.

"Does our entire marriage mean less to you than your paranoia over an intern?" he pleaded, grabbing my hand. His pain looked so genuine. "Vivian, stop overthinking. I love you. I've always loved you. Let's just put this behind us."

I slowly pulled my hand back and turned to look out the window. I didn't say another word.

When we got home, Christian went out of his way to please me. He poured me water, massaged my shoulders, and constantly checked my expression.

I didn't resist, but I didn't respond either. I was a lifeless doll.

When he went to take a shower, I walked back into his study like a ghost.

This time, my target wasn't the desk drawer.

My eyes landed on the massive, floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelf.

Christian had a habit: he always hid his most precious secrets in plain sight.

Taking a deep breath, I began pulling down the heavy, leather-bound volumes one by one.

Finally, in the deepest corner of the bottom shelf, my fingers brushed against cold metal.

It was a small, built-in digital safe.

My heart leaped into my throat.

What was the passcode?

My birthday? Our anniversary? Or... Summers birthday?

WWith trembling fingers, I typed in Summers birthdate based on what I remembered from his old archives.

With a soft click, the safe door popped open.