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

best friend’s sister as a placeholder, and felt

someone like

color drained from his face, but no

the words hit him like physical blows. “To someone who doesn’t need seven years to decide

Chapter 8

eyes wide with disbelief.

deeply. He’s not only handsome but genuinely kind, engaging, and most importantly-

don’t contact me again.”

hit the ground, petals scattering like snow as he lunged forward, fingers circling my wrists with desperate strength. His knees hit the gravel, designer pants be damned.

“Aveline, please…”

“I was a fool. I thought Oriana was my unfinished story, but losing you…”

have been absolute hell,” his voice trembled with desperation. “I couldn’t eat or sleep. Christ, I was so desperate I found myself calling William at

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

seven years, who were you really seeing? When you held me at night, who were you

struggled against his grip,

hit me while packing – the Chanel suits, the Hermès scarves, the Cartier jewels–none.

piece was carefully selected to transform

like her naturally. He’d just methodically molded me into her image, piece by

only to be steadied by strong hands. Alexander’s presence wrapped around me like a protective

whispered, catching a whiff of his signature

looked at me. “Long enough to witness this romantic comedy unfold.”