The Stand-in Resigns: His Brother's Keeper

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His brother built me to look like the dead girl.

Same face, same voice, right down to the way she used to tuck her hair reverse-engineered off a stack of photographs. Then he slid a contract across the desk, and I signed it myself: a million dollars a month, one line of job description keep Elias Thorne happy. I could walk out of it any day I chose.

For three years, I chose not to. The money was too good, and I was excellent at the job.

He told me to get lost about a thousand times. I'd just look at him quiet, sweet, endlessly patient until somewhere around the thousandth time, he pulled me into his arms instead and started spoiling me like it was a competitive sport.

Then his dead first love turned out to be extremely alive, and dropped a location pin from Hawaii.

That night he was rough with me possessive, wordless, the kind that leaves you aching by morning. Three years in, I knew the difference between a man who's furious and a man who's terrified of losing something. He'd sooner die than admit it was the second one.

All of Manhattan's old money leaned in to watch the stand-in finally crack. Sob. Go beautifully insane.

The next morning, I knocked on his brother's office door and asked, very sweetly:

"Mr. Thorne does this job come with workers' comp?"

=== Chapter 1 ===

"Workers' comp?"

Adrian Thorne said it without a flicker of warmth.

I scratched my cheek, sheepish. "Elias was a lot last night. I'm sore everywhere, it hurts to walk I can show you, if you don't believe me"

"I'll wire it to your account." He didn't look up.

My whole face lit up. "Thank you, Mr. Thorne!"

Then, delicately: "So about my severance"

"Severance?" His brow creased, one flicker of suspicion right as his phone rang.

A long silence.

"She's alive?" His eyes narrowed.

He hung up. Tapped the desk once with a long finger. He'd understood exactly what I was really asking.

"Stay beside him a while longer," he said. "If it turns out you're no longer needed, I'll write you a very generous severance."

I bit back a smile. Of course I wouldn't be needed. The dead girl wasn't dead. What does a family like this want with a stand-in the second the real one walks back through the door?

I nodded anyway, sweet and obedient. "Understood."

I turned to leave. His voice trailed after me, flat and quiet:

"Don't reach for things that aren't yours."

My steps stopped.

A warning. He thought what all of them thought that the discarded stand-in was about to snap, maybe do something ugly on her way out, really commit to the vindictive-gold-digger role they'd cast me in.

I sighed. Couldn't even blame them.

Three years, after all. Elias had liked me genuinely liked me. Lately he'd even started calling wedding planners. A little longer, and there'd have been a ring, a license, a Mrs.

Shame about the timing.

Because the first love he never got over wasn't dead after all. My almost-secured seat as the second Thorne wife? Gone. In theory, I should've been devastated.

But I never once forgot what I actually was. A stand-in. The kind of condescending adoration you earn by imitating another woman doesn't last and it was never mine to keep.

You know what was mine? The salary Adrian paid me. That cleared. That was real.

I glanced back and smiled at him. "Relax, Mr. Thorne. For a paycheck this size, I'd never disappoint you."

I pushed open the office door

and walked straight into the last person on earth I wanted to see.

Our eyes met. I went stone-still. "Eli?"

The unfairly beautiful man stopped short, black eyes drilling into me. "What are you doing here?"

I swallowed the panic and thought at light speed.

Elias didn't know I knew his brother. He had no idea that getting close to him had been a calculated operation with Adrian pulling every string.

Rewind three years. When Elias's first love "died," he came apart at the seams drinking, street-racing, one tabloid after another, every headline taking a bite out of Thorne Group's stock.

Adrian, holding the entire empire together, was sick of mopping it up.

Then someone mentioned a girl at a members' club who looked two-thirds like the dead woman.

Me.

The files came. I studied fast. No temper, easy to steer within weeks I was installed at Elias's side like a mood stabilizer with a pulse. He thought I was just a girl who happened to look like her, and happened to be hopelessly in love with him. Three years of me refusing to quit, and he finally let me in an inch.

Which is exactly why this could never, ever get out.

Because if it did forget the workers' comp, forget the severance

I wouldn't even see this month's paycheck.

Which was a problem. Because Elias was still standing in that doorway. Still staring. Still waiting for an answer to the one question I really, really did not want to answer.

What are you doing in my brother's office, Wynter?

And I watched his eyes begin, very slowly, to narrow.

=== Chapter 2 ===

I latched onto Elias's arm and said, soft: "You were gone when I woke up, and your phone kept going to voicemail. So I took it upon myself to ask your brother where you were. You're not upset with me are you, Eli?"

Elias paused. "He runs the company. He's busy," he said mildly. "Don't bother him over something this small."

He'd bought it. I let out a quiet, invisible breath and murmured, "Okay. It won't happen again."

He nodded, careless, and slid his arm free. "Go on home."

"What about tonight? You promised me a candlelit dinner." I pressed. "That restaurant that's impossible to book I got us a table."

Elias paused. His knuckles grazed my cheek, slow. The way you'd stroke a pet.

"Next time," he said.

There wouldn't be a next time. Predictable.

I nodded anyway. Obedient. "Okay."

If he wouldn't go, I'd go alone. I'd wanted this place for months, and it's nearly impossible to get into.

It was last week, actually during my routine report to Adrian on Elias's condition that I'd let it slip.

"Mr. Thorne, that rooftop place, Aureum impossible to book. Any strings you could pull?"

Adrian had set down his file. Looked up. Asked, out of nowhere, "You mentioned it to Elias?"

I said yes. "He told me to forget it said one fancy restaurant's the same as the next. But the room's beautiful. I was curious."

He took a cool sip of coffee.

Then made a single phone call.

A second later, the confirmation pinged on my phone.

"Miss Vale?"

A man's voice pulled me out of my head. I set down my glass. It was the wedding planner I'd been coordinating with.

I smiled, polite. "Fancy seeing you here."

He studied me a moment, cleared his throat, dropped his voice. "The two of you is everything all right between you?"

"Sorry?" I blinked up at him, all innocence.

"His people reached out. The planning, the arrangements all on hold for now." He hesitated. "The bride's side, especially."

I understood the worry, and gave him a reassuring smile. "Relax. The wedding isn't getting cancelled."

It's a big contract. Nobody wants to lose it.

He blinked, swallowed the reassurance, and brightened right up. "Then early congratulations to you both!"

The wedding wasn't getting cancelled. They were just swapping out the bride.

I didn't explain. After the planner left, I toyed with my silverware, bored.

Then at the edge of my vision two figures by the window. I looked. And went still in my seat.

Elias.

Facing me. But his eyes never once left the woman across from him.

A slender back. One look and I knew exactly who she was because I'd spent countless hours with her photographs, learning the way she held herself.

The server arrived with a dish.

I tipped my chin toward them. "That table I tried to book it for weeks and couldn't. Did they just pay more?"

An idle complaint. I wasn't expecting an answer; servers don't out their guests.

This one smiled. "There's no booking that table, miss. Thorne Group owns this restaurant and that's the heir himself. He sits wherever he likes. All he has to do is say the word."

One word. That was all it cost him.

I'd spent three weeks and every ounce of charm I owned to get a reservation in a room he happened to own outright a room he had never once thought to bring me to.

=== Chapter 3 ===

It hit me all at once.

Of course.

When I'd mentioned the restaurant to Adrian, he'd given me one unreadable look then made a single phone call, and the table simply existed.

Elias couldn't be bothered to make that one call.

I'd complained to him about this place more times than I could count. He'd just loop an arm around me, careless, roll my earlobe between his fingers, and lazily savor my disappointment.

"Poor thing," he'd murmur. "Can't even get a dinner she wants."

But that was Elias, always. No respect, no equal footing. I was a pet he could squeeze into whatever shape amused him.

Case in point

I watched the two of them across the room, quiet.

Elias would never sit across a table from me. He needed me at his side, close enough to haul into his lap and torment whenever the mood struck. He'd never gently pour my wine or hold a straight-faced conversation. He'd just lift his own glass to my lips and drawl the threat low against the shell of my ear: "Not drinking? Want me to pass it to you mouth to mouth?" And then he'd wait, close enough that the heat came off his jaw, close enough that my breath caught somewhere in my throat before I made it drink. He always won that one. I let him. It was cheaper than the alternative.

Not that I ever wanted respect. I've always known exactly where I stand.

Still seeing it in the flesh, I couldn't help a small, tired pang.

"Well, well. If it isn't our Miss Vale."

A man dropped into the seat across from me, and I had to look away from them.

...The playboy. I knew the face.

"We had a bet going just yesterday when Eli would finally dump you. And here you are, all alone already."

He grinned, pure malice, dragging his eyes over me. Then he pulled out his phone, snapped a photo of me, fired it into a group chat, and tacked on a voice note: "Guess who I ran into. Told you the second Thorne's done with her."

And at that precise moment, the thought that floated through my head was:

Getting harassed by Elias's disgusting friend could I file that as a workplace injury, too?

"How are you going to keep up that lifestyle without him?" His gaze crawled over me. "Tell you what. Spend a few nights with me. Twenty grand a night. What do you say?"

I would have paid money to throw my drink in his face and say, cool as glass: You're not even as generous as my boss.

But alas. I had a devoted-girlfriend character to maintain.

I said, softly, "It's not like that. Eli's just busy. He'll bring me next time."

The man's face split with delight. He jerked his chin toward the window. "See who's over there?"

I gave it one glance and said, firm, "That's just a friend of his. I don't interfere with his social life."

He stood and started toward them. He meant to tear off the last fig leaf to make me watch, up close, exactly how little Elias cared.

...What?!

I smothered the thrill in my eyes and hurried after him.

Perfect.

I'd been needing this a clean exit no one could pin on me.

Elias would absolutely draw a hard line in front of his first love. And I would be visibly devastated, but too proud to cling, and I would leave, heartbroken. Which would get me to that severance fast, and clean.

Best case? Elias feels guilty enough to add a breakup bonus on top.

And then: separate roads, separate lives. Adrian had already told me the jewelry Elias gave me, the money he'd wired none of it had to go back. Every piece was mine to keep, conscience clear.

Half lost in the math, I followed the playboy to a stop right at Elias's table.

Two pairs of eyes swung up at us.

And there it was Elias's expression flickered the second he saw me.

He stared, unblinking.

The air went strange.

=== Chapter 4 ===

The woman asked, "Your girlfriend?"

Elias didn't answer.

The playboy jumped in, grinning. "Please. Our Eli's only ever had eyes for you, Gen. Right, Eli?"

I flipped the performance on instantly lashes trembling, eyes rimmed red and looked at Elias.

He looked back, lazy, indifferent.

After a beat, he tipped his chin. "A little pet my brother keeps."

The woman froze.

So did the playboy. So did I.

Adrian was my boss, yes.

But that was a perfectly professional employment arrangement!

The woman scoffed. "I don't buy it. Don't lie to me. The way she looks at you isn't innocent. You two are close, aren't you?"

The playboy muttered, thrown, "Damn. For real?"

Elias's gaze was cool and unhurried. He took a slow sip of wine, then held my eyes, deliberate. "My brother asked me to look after her. Naturally, we talk. Isn't that right?"

I could read that look. Careless. Don't make a scene.

But a clean break was the whole point!

Elias could have just tossed me a check and coldly told me to get lost. Instead he was inventing some bizarre fake identity for me practically slandering my spotless professional relationship with Adrian.

The woman wasn't so easily fooled. "I know your brother. He doesn't want just any woman. So proof?"

And right then

The server from earlier stepped up, deferential.

"Miss Vale finished with your meal? Mr. Thorne left instructions: your check is on his account, and you won't need a reservation again. We'll have a car ready to take you home shortly."

Silence.

See, Adrian really is a good boss. Generous, thoughtful went right ahead and handed me employee benefits.

The timing, though. Slightly off.

Elias's eyes locked onto my face.

And the playboy the one who, one table ago, had bet on how fast I'd be dumped and offered me twenty grand a night like I was something you could rent sat there watching the man who ran the entire Thorne empire quietly pick up my tab. His grin curdled. He discovered a sudden, deep interest in his own wine.

Just as the chill hit its peak, Elias smiled out of nowhere and turned to Genevieve. "Convinced?"

The woman glanced at me and nodded. "So that's your brother's type."

Elias went still.

Something cold flickered under the lazy amusement in his eyes.

When he looked at me again, there was a dangerous scrutiny in it.

He was suspicious now.

But all he said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, was: "Run along. Don't keep my brother waiting."

A chill crawled up my spine.

I held silent a few seconds, let exactly the right measure of confusion and hurt surface, then turned and followed the server out.

The moment I was clear, I typed out a message and sent it:

Eli, I complained to your brother once that I couldn't get a table that's the only reason he pulled strings, as a favor to you.

But who was that woman today? Why wouldn't you tell her what we are?

Explain first, question second. Perfect.

An hour later, Elias finally deigned to reply.

One line: You and him close?

I fired back at once: I mentioned it in passing. I never thought it would actually work. And you? You got the table, and brought another woman?

A voice note slid in a second later.

"Wynter. You've gotten bold."

Five words. Cool, unbothered.

I could picture it exactly the half-lidded eyes, the cold set of his gaze, the very last scrap of his patience.

Bold. Sure. But "bold" wasn't the problem.

The problem was that Elias Thorne had just started asking the one question I'd spent three years making sure he would never think to ask.

And suspicious men do not sign off on clean, generous severance.

=== Chapter 5 ===

I scrambled to stay in character and sent back a timid voice note.

"But I'm just unhappy... who is that woman, really?"

"Eli, I swear I'll never have anything to do with your brother again. Please don't be angry. Okay?"

"...Eli, you've been so cold these past few days."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"That woman's only a friend, right? I believe you."

The notes went through. Nothing came back.

For days.

Elias didn't spare me a glance. And every day, right on schedule, I sent him a few voice notes how I missed him, how anxious I was about us.

It's fine. He's ignoring me. Doesn't matter.

I was waiting for the gala one week out. The society gala Elias had said he'd take me to. My gown was already hanging in the closet.

But now he wouldn't answer a single message, and I couldn't get near him. I called his friends; they hemmed and hawed, and a few laughed at me in that knowing way.

The meaning was plain enough.

His date had become the dead girl.

Fine. He didn't want me there. I was going anyway.

Because it was a golden opportunity. For his first love, Elias would keep me at the maximum possible distance and in front of everyone, that would nail the rumor down for good: dumped.

Otherwise, if this dragged on forever, how was I ever going to collect that generous severance?

I put on the gown, pinned my hair up, and walked into the gala alone.

The first person I saw wasn't Elias.

It was Adrian tall, straight-backed, coolly untouchable in the center of the crowd, a glass in his hand.

His gaze settled on me. I offered him a smile. It drifted away, cool.

A moment later, a lovely figure appeared on Elias's arm.

I met those careless eyes and watched something in his stare go still.

In for a penny. I walked straight over.

Then, voice trembling just so: "Eli."

Elias lowered his lashes. "What are you doing here?"

I went rigid. His tone was flat, neither cold nor warm. "My brother's right over there."

Plenty of people were watching the show, too.

Everyone knew, of course, that this was just a convenient excuse Elias had grabbed to shake me off. They'd all bet I would never dare go to Adrian.

Well obviously. As far as they knew, Adrian and I were nothing to each other. Even with the boss connection, I wouldn't dare go to him.

And Genevieve she'd have to be a fool not to smell something off by now.

She narrowed her eyes and, for the first time, looked at me properly.

Then she smiled. "You know, you and I look a little alike. And that dress it's my favorite label. Who bought it for you? Elias?"

I bit my lip, mortified, and looked stubbornly at Elias. "Eli..."

Genevieve went on. "What do you think, Elias? Who wears it better?"

Elias's gaze slid off me, over to her, and he took his lazy time producing one word: "You."

Genevieve smiled, satisfied.

She reached out, wiped the tear from the corner of my eye, and said, sweet as sugar, "Some people even in the genuine article still look like a knockoff."

Somewhere to my left, a woman sucked in a breath. Behind a champagne flute, someone smothered a laugh.

Mocking me. Obviously.

Let her. Every part of this the wet lashes, the trembling lip, the wounded little exit I was about to make was the cleanest resignation letter I would ever get to write. She thought she was twisting the knife. She was signing my release papers.

Elias wore that same couldn't-care-less expression, his eyes touching my reddened lashline for exactly one second before pulling away.

I reeled let my body sway like I'd taken a blow and then the tears came, right on cue, and I fled for the upstairs lounge: the perfect portrait of a girl publicly, humiliatingly cast aside.

The whole room drank it in behind me.

Perfect. Every witness was one more nail in exactly the story I needed told that Elias Thorne had thrown her away.

=== Chapter 6 ===

Behind me, someone sniggered. "She can't take it. Off to go change her dress."

I stopped at the door of the innermost lounge, wiped the tears away, smoothed the creases from my skirt.

Then took a deep breath and opened the door.

The man inside sat with his long legs crossed, leaning back into the sofa.

I broke into a grin. "Mr. Thorne."

I'd kept Adrian in the corner of my eye the whole time downstairs. He'd glanced at me twice, then turned and headed up. I'd followed without hesitation and here he was, exactly as expected.

"Your assignment's complete," he said.

He rose and held out a check, voice even. "Five million. It's all there."

I took it and sniffled, moved. "Mr. Thorne. Three years on this job, and I gave it everything. Thanks to my hard work, Elias has steadily come back to himself and now he's even found true love. I'm genuinely happy for him. Completely at peace. Mr. Thorne, thank you, truly, for the opportunity..."

I delivered my closing performance review with real, unhurried relish.

If I don't earn this money, honestly, who does?

Until, from just outside the lounge, a horrified voice tried to stop him: "...young Mr. Thorne, wait!"

The next second, the door slammed open