In the third year of my marriage to Charles Lewis, I overheard his brothers asking him:

"Charles, we pretend to be you, taking turns holding hands and kissing your wife. She won't really notice?"

Charles blew out a smoke ring, unconcerned:

"She has face blindness, she won't notice."

"But let's be clear, play around, but don't sleep with her. I don't do seconds."

For these three years, the person who dated me, held my hand, kissed me, was not Charles.

Of course I knew.

I also knew that for three years, the person who held my waist every night and made passionate love was not Charles.

......

When the phone rang, Matthew Robinson had just carried me out of the bathroom.

His sweaty, damp chest pressed against my back as he pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling window, gripping my chin to exchange kisses.

Matthew’s stamina was terrifying.

Even after countless times, I could barely keep up with his relentless demands.

During a brief pause for breath, I poked his waist:

"Your phone."

He finally glanced at it and muttered "Fuck."

Flipping the phone facedown, he gently kissed my earlobe.

"Baby, I need to take this."

Matthew stepped onto the balcony.

Silently wrapping myself in a robe, I went downstairs and slid into the car.

Through the Bluetooth connected to Charles’ phone, his icy voice filled the space:

"Switch with me tomorrow."

Matthew laughed carefree: "What? Can’t handle three years apart?"

Charles paused—likely downing a drink—his voice heavy:

"Not that bad. Tomorrow is Adam Lewis's birthday, I have to bring her over. By the way, remind you, it's Jesse Carter's turn on Friday."

As soon as he finished speaking, a burst of laughter erupted:

"Damn, Charles, you're too generous? Just got married and you're lending your wife to us brothers to play with?"

Charles blew out a smoke ring, unconcerned:

"Blind Date Mystery Game, you win some, you lose some. It's just Catherine Harris, I can afford to lose her."

"But let's make it clear, play is play, don't sleep with her, I don't use second-hand goods."

Someone clicked their tongue.

"Afraid of what? Who would be interested in her?"

"But Catherine has a great figure. Charles sent a photo of her just after showering in the group chat before, it was so hot. None of you five were tempted?"

"I was quite tempted."

Matthew's voice suddenly rang out.

Charles suddenly fell silent, the eerie atmosphere sending chills down my spine.

"Just for fun, I won't be the other woman."

Matthew leisurely remarked: "But wouldn't sleeping with her solve everything? Her birthday's coming up – aren't you planning to go public then?"

The blaring music from his end drowned out Matthew's voice.

Yet I could still hear Anna Campbell laughing beside his ear.

Anna was Charles's first love.

I'd grown up following Charles everywhere, watched them grow from acquaintances to lovers.

But Adam never approved of her, vowing to cut Charles off from the inheritance if he stayed with her.

He finally agreed to the arranged marriage and married me.

After eighteen years of secret love, my dream finally came true, only to discover it was just a game played by these rich boys.

Anna chimed in with a laugh:

"Right, Charles? Give her a big birthday surprise in a few days—tell her the truth."

"Since your wedding, you've all taken turns with her... Honestly, Catherine’s like a public bus anyone can get on."

"Shut up."

Charles and Matthew snapped at the same time, plunging the call back into dead silence.

Chapter 2

Matthew drawled lazily: "She is Charles’ wife after all. Pushing her this far isn’t cool."

"We never touched her. That’s out of the question."

Whatever Charles said next got lost in the sudden chaos on their end, his voice drowned out completely.

The call lasted fifteen minutes. I turned off the Bluetooth and got out of the car.

That sharp ache had long faded, now buried beneath calm.

A faint, gnawing sensation like ants nibbling away.

Heading upstairs, I bumped into Matthew just leaving.

He seemed frantic, clothes half-on, his exposed torso covered in suggestive scratches.

Seeing me, he exhaled in relief and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Where'd you go, baby? Thought I'd lost you."

"Just took out the trash downstairs."

I tilted my head up, palm against his cheek, fingertip brushing the mole by his eye.

Charles had that exact same mole at his eye corner too.

Matthew's eyes darkened as my finger trailed down, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The moment my fingertip touched the corner of his lips, he instantly captured it with his mouth, nipping gently.

Matthew had this flaw—like a mad dog, obsessed with marking everything as his possession.

Even when this territory didn't belong to him.

Matthew's breathing grew heavier, his eyes clouded with unmistakable desire.

He pinned me onto the bed.

I suddenly pressed his hand: "Charles, skip the condoms. Let's have a baby."

Matthew's pupils jumped, his gaze turning fierce.

That night, Matthew was exceptionally fierce.

......

I discovered Charles had deceived me just days before our wedding, when an anonymous sender delivered a video.

The video was taken in a private room at a bar, with Charles sitting next to Anna.

She suggested playing the Blind Date Mystery Game, and I got picked in the draw.

Besides Charles, there were four other players.

Matthew was also picked.

"Boring," he said impatiently, kicking over the table and storming out of the room, cursing. "Play by yourselves."

Anna smoothed things over with a smile:

"It's fine, four people can still play. But watch your boundaries. For Charles' sake, don't get anyone pregnant."

That's when I realized the wedding I'd been looking forward to for eighteen years was just the starting signal of the game.

My heart ached so badly I could hardly breathe.

Charles sent a message: 【It's not too late to cancel the wedding.】

I ignored him, sitting blankly before the video all night.

This was an arranged marriage—I had no right to call it off.

I still needed the Lewis Family to secure my standing with the Harris family.

The wedding proceeded as scheduled the next day.

But before it ended, Charles took a call and left.

That night, Matthew came home instead.

I'm face-blind, not stupid.

After an eighteen-year crush on Charles, how could I mistake him?

In my world, people fall into three categories:

Men,

women,

and Charles.

That evening, Matthew leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me mockingly and teasingly.

I remember he seemed to want to say something that day, but before he could speak, I walked over and kissed him:

"Charles, I knew you'd come back."

Everything afterward seemed to follow naturally.

The four took turns pretending to be Charles.

They'd transfer huge sums to me five times a day, and the same gifts always arrived in quintuplicate.

We acted like any ordinary couple.

Dating, holding hands, embracing, shopping, kissing.

But only Charles and Matthew ever came home at night.

Telling Charles and Matthew apart was effortless.

Charles wouldn't touch me—one glance from him betrayed unconcealed disgust.

Matthew never tired of it.

He was inventive and full of energy.

He patiently hiked thirty thousand steps with me, only to keep me up all night afterward.

He loved kissing every inch of me, coaxing me to call him "husband," until I was gasping for air.

"Baby, I really adore you."

He whispered "adore" in my ear a thousand times each night, demanding my response.

Eventually, it turned into frustration.

Sometimes I drifted into exhausted sleep.

In my dreams, someone traced my features, murmuring to himself:

"Why marry him knowing he’s lying to you?"

"Why not divorce him? Do you love him that much?"

I wanted to ask him too.

Why did he change his mind and join this game?

I treated him as a substitute for Charles, but what did he see me as?

I didn't ask, and Matthew didn't answer me.

In my blurred world, there was another kind of person: Matthew.

Early the next morning, Matthew left.

The mess at home was all cleaned up.

Charles called me and asked me to come downstairs.

When I pulled open the car door, Anna was sitting next to Charles.

She smiled provocatively at me: "Sorry, Catherine, I'm also going to visit Grandpa Adam. You don't mind, do you?"

Before I could speak, Charles glared coldly at me: "Catherine, don't be unreasonable."

I closed my eyes briefly and ignored Anna's provocation.

After getting in the car, I asked Charles,

"You didn't buy me breakfast?"

Charles froze. I deliberately smiled sweetly: "You forgot? This morning you said you'd get breakfast for me."

I didn't notice when Matthew left.

But Charles's face darkened. Anna gasped:

"You two... slept together?"

Her voice couldn't hide her glee.

Instead of answering, I feigned surprise while looking at Charles.

Charles grunted, his expression grim.

He pulled out a cigarette, ready to light it.

I poured fuel on the fire:

"Didn't you promise last night you'd quit? Smoking's bad for the baby. We need to prepare for pregnancy."

Clatter.

The cigarette hit the floor. Cold fury swirled in Charles's dark eyes, as if to devour me.

Anna smiled meaningfully:

"Is that so? I'm looking forward to meeting your baby."

I smiled back, blushing as I looked at Charles:

"I'm looking forward to it too. We'll have a complete family."

Charles was visibly agitated.

His agitation peaked when Matthew appeared.

Matthew stood with hands in pockets, clearly here for the drama.

Several others accompanied him, unrecognizable to me.

But judging by Matthew's demeanor, they must be Charles's other three impersonators.

"Charles, aren't you going to introduce us?" I linked arms with him. "Are they friends of yours?"

"Matthew." Before Charles could speak, Matthew extended his hand toward me. "Pleasure, Mrs. Charles."

He deliberately emphasized "Mrs. Charles."

Charles sometimes experimented with calling me "sister-in-law" during intimate moments.

Hearing it now carried an indescribable intimacy.

Charles slapped my hand away, pulling Matthew toward the exit.

Anna’s eyes gleamed with triumph.

She smiled at me. "Catherine, is Charles always this difficult? He’s only tolerable around me since we’re close."

"Not really," I replied, matching her smile. "He’s been quite kind to me lately."

Anna snorted with laughter.

The others burst into laughter.

Feeling uneasy among the group, I checked my phone to find an anonymous message: 【Come to the back garden.】

Skeptical but curious, I slipped outside.

Charles stopped after a few steps, hearing his own voice from behind the ornamental rockery:

"Did you touch her? Why's she talking about trying to get pregnant?"

Matthew stood with hands in pockets, leaning lazily against a tree. "What? Getting possessive now?"

"She's my wife!" Charles grabbed his collar in frustration.

"I didn't touch her."

Matthew impatiently swatted his hand away:

"Would it matter if I did? She'd never know. Even if she found out, worst case is divorce. Then you'd be free to chase after Anna."

Charles hesitated, reaching irritably for a cigarette.

But after a moment's thought, he put it back.

"Changed your mind about divorcing her?" Matthew narrowed his eyes, his voice turning cold. "Not worried Catherine might find out and lose it?"

“No,” Charles said firmly, “She loves me too much to get angry. In a few days on her birthday, when the game ends, I’ll settle down and build a life with her.”

“Just don’t touch her. Catherine wants a child, I’ll give her one. Consider it compensation for deceiving her these three years.”

“What about Anna?”

Charles stayed silent.

I lowered my gaze to my phone, staring at the divorce agreement from the lawyer in my inbox.

Before marrying him, I truly wanted to build a life together.

I never even demanded his love – mutual respect would’ve been enough.

From discovering the truth until our wedding day, I gave him chance after chance, waiting for him to confess to me willingly.

Charles was nowhere to be seen.

Three years it's been, whether with Charles or with Matthew.

I'm tired of playing this game.

Chapter 4

After dinner, Charles drove me home.

When he leaned over to fasten my seatbelt, his phone lit up.

Charles glanced at it, then got out to take the call.

Watching him walk further away, I turned on the car's Bluetooth.

Anna's pleading voice filled the car: "Charles, will you come keep me company tonight? You spent the whole day looking at Catherine. I'm jealous."

"Don't be ridiculous," Charles frowned. "I'm married."

"So what? It's just a game. Are you really planning to be tied to her for life?"

Anna dismissed it, continuing to wheedle:

"Just have Matthew go to Catherine. She's face-blind anyway and won't even notice. Please?"

Anna's coquettish plea worked.

Charles hung up and lowered his head to text someone.

Soon after, he glanced back at me before walking out of sight. When he returned, it was Matthew.

Matthew slid into the car and immediately cradled the back of my head.

He claimed my lips in a breath-stealing kiss until I gasped and pulled away.

He chased my mouth again, trailing kisses from my temple to the corner of my lips.

His hands wandered, slipping under my skirt.

"Baby, how about we try it in the car?"

Matthew's gaze always held that lingering intensity when he looked at me.

I pushed his hand away, turning my head aside:

"Don't touch me."

Matthew froze briefly, then snorted: "Got what you wanted and now pretend we're strangers? Ungrateful brat."

I ignored him the entire journey.

After that day, Charles stayed away for weeks. Matthew and three others took turns impersonating him to keep me company.

Dating, movies, shopping, gifts.

I accepted it all calmly, as if nothing had changed.

I carved out a day to meet a lawyer about divorce.

After the lawyer left, I sat motionless for hours, hand resting on my abdomen.

I didn't know.

Whether keeping this child on impulse was the right choice.

A shadow suddenly fell across me. Before the reaching hand could connect, I snatched the divorce papers off the table.

"What's this, so mysterious? Baby, you didn't sell the company behind my back, did you?"

"Selling it's fine too, just call me along. I'll go count the cash for you."

Matthew pulled out a chair and sat beside me, trying to hug me. I dodged instinctively.

His hand froze mid-air as he said with half-serious self-mockery:

"Well, seems I've fallen from grace."

"Others get the seven-year itch, but we're only at three years and you're already tired of me."

"Was that guy new? Want me to chase him down? I'll be your main, he can be your side piece?"

He started rising as he spoke.

I quickly grabbed his arm, glaring: "Stop joking around."

Matthew pushed his luck and patted his thigh.

He's always been reckless, and I'm really worried he might do something rash.

I put the divorce papers back in my bag and walked over, dragging my feet.

Matthew looked up, pinched my cheek, and asked:

"What's gotten into you these past few days?"

This is where Matthew differs from Charles.

He always wants to talk things out with me.

But this time, between us—

layers of lies and deception, layers of inexplicable, complicated feelings.

There was nothing left to say.

"Was it because I brought Anna to the family estate last time?"

Matthew guessed one reason after another, "Or because I served Anna food that day and ignored you?"

I shook my head.

Anna's voice came at that moment:

"Oh, it's Catherine! And who's this..."

Hearing this, I looked up and saw Charles holding her hand tightly, fingers locked.