My sister mimicked my appearance.

She settled on my bed and waited for my husband to join her.

Even my parents hoped she share a harmonious marriage with my husband, blessed with many children.

When my husband pushed open the door, my sister, her face flushed, stepped forward to help him undress.

She had no idea that the man standing before her was far more terrifying beyond her knowledge.

…

Floating in the air, I watched as Alexander pushed open the door.

His battle armor was stained with blood and dust.

Two months apart, he looked a little thinner, but also more imposing.

My sister, Victoria Sterling, nervously clutched her dress.

She steeled herself and rose from the bed, approaching Alexander, speaking softly,

"My Lord, let me help you undress and bathe."

Her voice was almost identical to mine.

But our voices were originally different.

Seven days earlier, when I was on the verge of death, she had told me,

"Amelia, I went through hell to change my voice. Don't you think it sounds just like yours?"

It certainly did, because even someone as cautious as Alexander hadn't realized that his wife was replaced by another woman.

Alexander removed his armor and opened his arms.

Victoria's face flushed, and her soft, delicate hands reached for his belt.

She wasn't naturally fair-skinned, but to match my complexion, she had taken whitening potions daily for two years and avoided the sun completely.

In the end, she became as fair as I was.

Besides voice and skin, she had also perfectly mimicked my expressions and gestures.

She said she had spent two full years preparing.

She said she was determined to have it all.

Alexander looked down at her. "Did you change your perfume?"

Victoria paused, then softly replied, "Yes, My Lord. How do you find this scent?"

Alexander frowned. "It's too strong. Not as good as the one you used before. Change it back."

Victoria quickly said, "Yes, My Lord."

Alexander turned and walked towards the bath. Victoria eagerly followed, joy in her eyes.

She was thrilled that Alexander hadn't discovered her.

I didn't want to go near the bath, because I knew what would happen next.

Alexander had joined the military at twelve and had served for thirteen years.

His passion in the bedroom was incomparably intense to any other man.

I never knew if any women had served him during his two months away in the army.

But whenever he returned after several days, it was always more than I could bear.

He was never gentle with me, even nonchalantly saying,

"Your parents sent you to please me, yet I see little effort from you."

Later, I followed Nanny Beatrice's advice to take more action when making love with Alexander, which made him less brutal.

But in truth, it was Victoria who was originally meant to marry Alexander.

That year, when Alexander returned to the Capital with his army from the Northern Territories, five severed heads hung from his saddle.

Though he told the King they were just bandits he'd slain along the way, everyone knew those five heads represented the five prominent families who had brought charges against his family years ago.

Our Sterling family was one of them.

The five families offered rare jewels and stunning beauties, hoping to appease his fury.

Victoria, my sister, was one of those stunning beauties.

She feared she would be tortured to death by Alexander and begged our parents not to send her.

Our parents doted on her, and ultimately, they made me take Victoria's place and marry Alexander.

Victoria and I were twins. A seer had prophesied at our birth that one of us would bring ruin to the Sterling family.

So, when I was born quiet and cried little, which was unusual for a new-born, I was declared the ill-fated twin.

They planned to drown me.

My mother couldn't bear it and threatened her own life to save mine.

I survived but was confined to the deepest, smallest courtyard in the Sterling estate, with only Nanny Beatrice to care for me.

From then on, outsiders only knew of Victoria, the eldest daughter cherished by the Sterlings.

People were unaware of another daughter named Amelia, who grew like a weed in that tiny, secluded yard.

Even the name Amelia was given to me by Nanny Beatrice.

Nanny Beatrice said that on the day she carried me to the small courtyard, the pear blossoms there were in full bloom, the most beautiful she had ever seen.

Yet all those flowers strangely died overnight, leaving the yard pale and lifeless.

It seemed to perfectly foretell my brief life.