The Substitute Bride's Revenge

Chapter 6

After two weeks of dusty travel, I finally returned to this mountain village that had haunted my dreams.

The tires crunched over rugged mountain roads while Snowball barked excitedly in the backseat.

The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open.

To my surprise, the old house was unusually tidy—spotless windows, not a single cobweb in the corners.

Just as I puzzled over this, rustling sounds came from behind me.

"Who's there?"

My hand flew to the pepper spray in my bag.

"Easy there."

A clear male voice rang out.

Moonlight revealed a man in a windbreaker, his handsome features accentuated by the cold gleam of his Patek Philippe watch.

"Lucas Harrison."

He gestured toward the tent in the yard.

"Just a backpacker seeking shelter."

I scoffed.

Since when did backpackers come with such refined tastes?

But seeing his travel-worn appearance, I stepped aside.

"Come in. The mountain nights are cold."

Firelight from the stove danced across his chiseled profile.

Like a magician, he produced two bottles of Moutai, the amber liquid swirling in rough ceramic bowls.

"Rich kid running away from home?"

I teased between sips.

He swirled his drink with a chuckle.

"Family drama's overrated. I'd rather see the world."

After three rounds, his finger suddenly tapped between my brows.

"You could crush mosquitoes with these frown lines."

Memories flooded back—Aunt Marry kneeling in the rain, clutching feverish Oliver Carter.

The child's flushed face mirrored my own childhood photos.

"Thinking about a man?"

Lucas winked mischievously.

I downed the liquor in one gulp.

Ethan Carter's face flickered in the firelight before dissolving with the alcohol.

In that household, I'd always been his late wife's replacement, Oliver's nanny—never just Sophia Williams.

At dawn, we planted the first peach tree on the hillside.

Dirt clung to Lucas' hands, but his smile outshone the rising sun.

Until black Maybach tires crushed the morning dew.

Ethan rolled down his window, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting coldly.

"Had your fun? Oliver's waiting."

Snowball suddenly erupted into furious barking.

Stroking the peach sapling's tender buds, I finally saw my true reflection—not Mrs. Carter, not the family nanny, just Sophia.