Refusing To Be His Perfect Replica, I Choose The Arranged Marriag by BlueMoone

Chapter 8

Stepping into the crisp morning air, I found Castro waiting – a portrait of calculated perfection in his bespoke Tom Ford suit, the one that had always made my heart skip.

A cascade of ivory roses trembled slightly in his grip, betraying the tension beneath his polished facade.

“Aveline, look,” his voice cracked with practiced remorse, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. That day… I was completely out of line. Raising my hand to you…”

presence makes you

“Oriana is just…” he swallowed hard, “history. A closed chapter. If her presence uncomfortable, I’ll cut all ties. Just say the word.”

I studied him, wondering what game he was playing. His devotion to Oriana had been obvious to anyone with eyes.

Now that she was back, why chase me across an ocean instead of embracing his happy ending?

Interpreting my silence as hesitation, he pulled out a Cartier red leather box and dropped to one knee.

“Let me spend forever making it up to you,” he breathed, his voice taking on that honeyed tone that had once convinced me of anything.

“Marry me. From now on, there will only be room for you in my life.”

The rare pink diamond in the box sparkled – a scene I’d dreamed of countless times. Thank God he’d never given it before.

I reached out slowly, watching hope bloom in his eyes before I snapped the box shut with a decisive click.

you were honorable and exceptional. Instead, I found a skilled liar who wears masks like second

as a placeholder, and felt no remorse.

someone like that?”

his face, but no defense came to

physical blows. “To someone who doesn’t need seven years to decide if I’m

Chapter 8

head snapped up, eyes wide

He’s not only handsome but genuinely kind, engaging, and most importantly- a man

don’t contact me again.”

petals scattering like snow as he lunged forward, fingers circling my wrists with desperate strength. His knees hit

“Aveline, please…”

voice cracked, his perfectly maintained facade crumbling. “I was a fool. I thought Oriana was my unfinished story, but

couldn’t eat or sleep. Christ, I was so desperate I found myself calling William at three in the morning just to

were red–rimmed and wild. “Seven years together. All those mornings waking up to your smile, all those

Castro. During those seven years, who were you really seeing? When you held me

struggled against his grip, disgust rising like bile.

the Hermès scarves, the Cartier jewels–none.

carefully selected to transform me into Oriana’s mirror

just methodically molded me into her image,

hands. Alexander’s presence wrapped around me like a protective shield, his aristocratic

here long?” I whispered, catching a

at me. “Long enough