My name is Jade Johnson, a fraud who's been living as a wealthy family's daughter for twenty years.

The day they found and brought back Luna, the real heiress, my life shattered into pieces.


My parents—no, I should say Luna's biological parents—withdrew all their affection overnight.

The way they looked at me transformed from loving to a toxic mix of disgust and pity.

"Jade, the Johnson family hasn't mistreated you all these years. Now that Luna is back, you should know your place." My mother—no, Mrs. Johnson—pointed at all the luxury items and bank cards under my name, her tone glacial.


"These things were never truly yours to begin with."

I was thrown out, my only remaining purpose to marry into the Lawrence family in Luna's place—to marry their notorious comatose son, Ethan Lawrence.


Ethan Lawrence, the true prince of the Capital Elite Circle, became practically a living corpse after a mysterious car accident two years ago.

And I was originally engaged to his younger brother, Zachary.

Now, Zachary had become Luna's fiancé.

Tonight is my wedding night with Ethan.

Wearing a cheap red nightgown, I lie on this custom-made marriage bed worth millions, yet I can't feel even a hint of warmth.

From the adjacent room, I can hear the unmistakable sounds of a man and woman in the throes of passion.

It's Zachary and Luna.

To "accommodate" me as a newlywed, the Lawrence family deliberately arranged for them to stay in the room next to the master bedroom.

"Zach, darling, don't you think Jade is probably crying over that vegetable right now? God, it's absolutely hilarious," Luna's voice drips with honeyed venom.

Zachary's deep laughter echoes through the wall: "She deserves it. A fake nobody who dared to dream of becoming a Lawrence. Luna, only you deserve me."

"What about the one she married…"

"My brother? He's nothing but dead weight. Once Dad hands the company over to me completely, I'll kick both of them out. They're such eyesores."

I close my eyes, trying to block out their cruel words.

My heart feels squeezed by an invisible fist, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe.

Just as I resign myself to spending the night in endless humiliation and cold isolation, a burning grip suddenly seizes my wrist.

The strength is incredible, like steel handcuffs, so hot it sends a shock through my body.

I snap my eyes open and find myself staring into a pair of deep, dark eyes.

Those eyes, like ancient frozen lakes suddenly awakening, now churn with a terrifying storm.

Moonlight from the window outlines his profile—a strong, straight nose, thin pressed lips, a face devastatingly handsome.

Despite two years in a coma, his jawline remains razor-sharp, though his skin carries the pallor of someone long deprived of sunlight.

This face shares some resemblance to Zachary, yet possesses a nobility and intensity that makes his brother's handsome features seem common by comparison.

It's Ethan Lawrence.

He's awake.

"Who are you?" His voice rasps like sandpaper, each word dragging with the effort of someone who hasn't spoken in years.

My heart pounds wildly—not from fear, but from a desperate, wild hope of salvation in my hopeless situation.

The sounds from next door continue, providing a cruelly ironic soundtrack to this moment.

As I study his face, a desperate plan forms in my mind.

Instead of screaming, I lean closer, letting my soft nightgown brush against his burning arm.

I bring my lips to his ear and whisper in the softest, most enticing voice I can manage.

"Husband, I'm your wife. Your brother has been tormenting me. You need to help me."