Never Loved You, Just A Placeholder

For five years, I paid for his art, his life, and his striking resemblance to a ghost. Karson Willis was my carefully curated substitute, a warm body to fill the space left by the man I' d lost. Then, my world shattered. My adoptive family found their biological daughter, and my inheritance vanished overnight. I was cut off, exiled. That' s when I overheard him laughing. "She's broke," he scoffed. "What's the point? She was useful, but that's over now." He called our five years a "convenience" and mocked the wedding board I' d secretly made. At a company dinner, he kissed another woman in front of everyone, then left me stranded when I fell ill, accusing me of being cruel. He even brought her into my home, letting her wear my clothes. I endured it all, a cold clarity settling over me. So when he finally got down on one knee, ring in hand, begging for a second chance, I didn't even hesitate. "I never loved you," I said, pulling my hand away. "You were just a placeholder." Chapter 1 I paid for his art, his life, and his striking resemblance to a ghost. It wasn't a secret, not really, but it was the kind of unspoken truth everyone whispered about behind my back. For five years, Karson Willis had been my carefully curated substitute. Every gallery showing, every bespoke suit, every lavish dinner-my money. His studio space, tucked away in a fashionable downtown loft, was mine too. It was a golden cage I'd built, not for him, but for myself. People mocked me, of course. I heard the snickers, the condescending whispers at charity galas and art exhibitions. "She's buying a boyfriend," they'd say. "How pathetic." I never cared. Their opinions meant nothing when I had endless resources. My family's fortune was vast, a seemingly bottomless well that allowed me to dictate my own reality, to numb the ache that had settled deep in my bones years ago. "I can do whatever I want," I used to tell myself, staring at his perfect profile, a mirror image of the one carved into my memory. But then, the ground shifted beneath my feet. The Long family's prodigal biological daughter, a name whispered in hushed tones for decades, was found. Suddenly, my carefully constructed world began to unravel. My inheritance, once assured, was no longer mine. My adoptive parents, overwhelmed by their newfound biological connection, clumsily pushed me aside. I was being exiled. London. The company's European branch. A polite but firm severance from the life I'd always known. The news hit me hard. I walked through the familiar halls of Karson's studio, the place I'd poured so much of myself into, feeling a strange emptiness. My footsteps were soft on the polished concrete floor, heading towards the back office where I knew Karson usually handled his "business." His voice, low and conspiratorial, drifted through the slightly ajar door. "She's finally getting what she deserves," a woman giggled. Fannie. Karson's art school friend, always hanging around, a wide-eyed ingenue act that grated on my nerves. My heart began to pound against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. "Karma," another male voice chimed in. "Clare always acted like she owned the place." "She did own the place, Mark," Karson drawled, his voice laced with a cold amusement I'd rarely heard directed at me. "And everything in it. Including me, apparently." I leaned closer, my breath catching in my throat. My knuckles were white as I gripped the cool metal of the doorframe. "So, what's the plan now that her daddy's cut her off?" Fannie asked, her voice dripping with feigned concern. "Are you really going to stick around for the London transfer?" "Are you insane?" Karson scoffed. "She's broke. Or will be, soon enough. What's the point? She was useful, but that's over now." A sharp, painful echo resounded in my chest. Useful. "I mean, you always complained about how clingy she was," Mark added. "Always calling, always checking up. Like she owned you." "Yeah, and she had this whole Pinterest board for our 'dream wedding'," Fannie snickered. "As if you'd ever actually marry her." A cold dread spread through me, chilling me to the core. My own Pinterest board. The one I started years ago, filled with images of a life I desperately wanted, a life I was trying to recreate with him. Karson laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound that tore through me. "Marry her? Please. It was always just for fun. A convenience. I mean, look at her. She just wanted a warm body to fill a space. I was never going to marry her." My vision blurred. The world spun. And then, a strange, undeniable sense of relief washed over me. It was like a suffocating weight had been lifted, replaced by a searing clarity. He was right. He was absolutely, brutally right. I hadn't wanted him. I had wanted a substitute, a stand-in for the man I'd lost, the man whose memory I clung to. And now, I was truly free, though not in the way I ever imagined. Free from the illusion I'd meticulously maintained. Free from him. The charade was over, and I was grateful I hadn't let myself get any deeper into this pathetic arrangement.