The next morning, Abigail woke in an unfamiliar bed. The soft sheets felt strange beneath her, and the faint scent of lavender still lingered in the air. She blinked, her mind slowly catching up with the events of the last day.
Everything felt surreal, like she was living in someone else's dream. She still couldn't believe that she had escaped Jaxon's evil clutches, nor could she believe she was going to be a stranger's pretend wife.
How was she going to manage everything?
How was she going to pretend to be a woman she was not?
What if she failed? What would happen then?
Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. She swallowed, then called softly, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and she heard two sets of footsteps coming closer. Ethan stepped in first. His eyes widened slightly as he saw her sitting up in bed, dressed in soft, cozy pajamas. Her hair was a little messy, falling around her face like a gentle frame. She looked delicate and lovely, like a flower blooming after a long winter's sleep.
For a moment, he forgot why he had come at all.
"G-good morning," Abigail greeted slowly, breaking the strange silence.
Ethan cleared his throat, breaking out of his stance. "Morning, did you sleep well?"
Abigail nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.
Ethan glanced behind him, then said, "I brought someone to meet you."
She blinked again, stepping carefully down from the bed. A young woman in her early twenties stepped closer. Her hair was tied neatly in a bun, and square-shaped spectacles sat perfectly on her nose, giving her a serious, no-nonsense air.
"This is Emily," Ethan introduced her. "Your personal maid."
Abigail was stunned. "Personal maid?"
Ethan nodded slowly. "Yes. She'll stay by your side at all times. She'll be your eyes around the house and your guide. She'll teach you how to become Vanessa. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask her."
Understanding flashed through her eyes as his words sank in. "I understand."
Ethan turned to leave, but paused just before opening the door. Looking back at her, his voice softened, "Learn well, Miss Abigail. You only have three days to mould yourself into my wife."
Abigail was caught off guard. Three days?
That wasn't enough. She felt that even if he gave her three hundred days, it wouldn't be enough. How was she going to become a woman she had never met? Panic fluttered in her chest like a caged bird.
Could she really pull it off?
But almost instantly, she crushed the doubt. She had no choice. She had to do it for her father.
"I-I'll give it my all," she said quietly. and heard the door click shut.
As soon as he was gone, she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her chest rose and fell slowly, as if trying to recover from a silent storm. His presence was just like his voice, cold, domineering, and impossible to ignore. She could tell he was a man who didn't ask, only expected.
She couldn't help but wonder how she was going to survive next to him as his pretend wife. Just being near him made it impossible for her to relax. As she tried to collect herself, she heard footsteps coming towards her.
"Hello," a cheerful voice greeted. "I'm Emily."
There was something warm and welcoming in her tone. She sounded sweet, youthful, like sunshine.
Abigail smiled, "I'm Abigail."
"I know," she laughed and plopped down beside her. "I still can't believe this is happening...."
"Me neither," Abigail shrugged.
"When Master Ethan called me over, I thought Miss Vanessa missed me," she giggled lightly, "But then he told me everything—and I mean everything. I was so shocked! Even now, looking at you, I can't believe you're not her. You two look like mirrors."
"I've been told," Abigail replied with a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.
Emily's smile faded a little as her eyes dropped to Abigail's. "So, what happened to your eyes?"
"I was born blind," Abigail answered simply.
"Oh…" Emily reached out and gently patted her shoulder. "I can't do anything about that, but don't worry. In the next three days, I'll turn you into Vanessa so perfectly that not even Madam Victoria will notice a thing."
Abigail's brow furrowed. "Madam Victoria?"
"Miss Vanessa's mother," she explained, her tone becoming a bit more serious now. "She's your biggest challenge. If she believes you're her daughter, then you've won. But it won't be easy."
"Why?"
"Because she's sharp. Scary sharp," Emily said with a wary smile. "She watches everything, hears everything. Nothing passes by those laser eyes. One tiny mistake, and boom—you're caught."
Abigail was scared. Her fingers curled tightly in her lap as a chill ran down her spine. Madam Victoria sounded terrifying, like someone who didn't just look at you, but looked through you. Would she be able to pull this off?
Noticing her distress, Emily quickly added, "But hey, you're not alone. I'm here with you. Don't be scared. I promise, I'll make sure you become the perfect Miss Vanessa. She won't notice a thing."
Abigail nodded slowly, clinging to that hope.
She had to make it work. There was no looking back.
Over the next few hours, the two of them quickly grew comfortable with each other. Emily was patient, cheerful, and surprisingly easy to talk to. As they spent time together, Abigail began to learn everything there was to know about Vanessa—the woman she was supposed to become.
From her family background to her habits, and even little details, she was absorbing it all. What surprised her the most was discovering that Emily wasn't just a maid—she had grown up alongside Vanessa and was also her friend. It felt odd to think of a rich heiress being close to someone like Emily, who came from a simpler background.
But Abigail didn't question it. She had more important things to focus on. She threw herself into learning, determined to succeed. Emily taught her how Vanessa walked, talked, smiled, and carried herself with grace.
Everything had a rule—how to sit, how to hold a fork, how to greet someone important.
All her life, Abigail had thought rich people had it easy. But now, she realized how carefully constructed their lives were. Nothing was effortless. Every detail had to be perfect, like a performance that never ended.