Return from Her Fake Death

That winter, five years ago, the snow crushed the plum branches at the old house. At Vivian's funeral, her black-and-white photo showed her smiling with eyes curved in happiness, while I clenched my numb, frozen hands and shrank into the back of the crowd. Suddenly, a hand grasped my wrist with enough force to crush bone. It was Calvin Luke. His eyes were bloodshot, tears still clinging to the corners, but he stared at me like I was his last lifeline: "Viola, take her place and stay with me. From now on, everything in the Luke Family will be yours." I looked at the snowflakes on his suit and remembered those days after our parents died, when Vivian and I squeezed into that cramped rental, eating instant noodles. This was a gamble, but I had no reason to refuse. When I nodded, his tense shoulders finally sagged—and I felt nothing at all. A few days later, I moved into the bridal suite Calvin Luke had prepared for Vivian Lincoln. Pink lace curtains hung down to the floor; on the desk sat her favorite sunflowers preserved in a bouquet, and the walk-in closet was packed with her dresses—all worth more than every piece of clothing I've ever owned combined. Calvin handed me Vivian's diary: "Imitate her handwriting, don't screw this up." I practiced on the diary for half a month, my fingertips calloused and raw. Only when I finally managed to mimic Vivian's handwriting perfectly did he smile—rarely, and faintly. He even made me learn piano, saying Vivian Lincoln plays 'Moonlight Sonata' best. I watched her performance videos, painstakingly perfecting every note, practicing until my fingers tingled, never daring to stop. I knew I was just a stand-in, and the moment my flaws showed, the whole deal would fall apart. Calvin Luke threw all his energy into the business world. He left early and came home late every day; sometimes there was blood on his shirt, but he never said what had happened. Sometimes late at night, I'd leave a bowl of hot soup for him. When he drank it, he'd stare at me for a long time, eyes swirling with a complicated fog I couldn't read—and didn't want to. Three years later, Calvin Luke crushed all his rivals and smoothly took over the Luke Group. The day we moved into the Luke Family Old Residence, he hugged me in front of the servants and handed me a share certificate: "10% equity shares. From now on, you are Mrs. Luke." The servants' envious glances were like needles, and the butler respectfully called me "Mrs. Luke," but I knew it wasn't because of Viola Lincoln—it was because I looked like Vivian Lincoln. This summer, Daisy Xavier and I went abroad for vacation. The sunlight on the beach was so harsh it made me squint; I was lying on a lounge chair, scrolling through my phone, when suddenly I got a text message. The sender was "Vivian Lincoln". The message was short: "You're spending too much, younger sister. Calvin won't be happy." I thought I was seeing things, rubbed my eyes, and looked again—the sender was still her. My heart started pounding wildly, and I nearly dropped the phone onto the sand. When Vivian had the accident, the crash was so terrible even the phone shards couldn't be pieced together, the SIM card had long disappeared—so how could someone be sending texts from this number? My hand trembled as I replied, "Scam message?" Daisy Xavier walked over, arm around a male model's waist, glanced at my phone, then rolled her eyes: "Messaging your Mr. Luke again? Didn't you say you just want wealth and glory, and not to fall in love with him?" I put away my phone and forced a smile. "It's nothing, just spam." She sat beside me and patted my shoulder. "Once you've saved enough money, divorce and run. Calvin only has Vivian in his heart—don't be stupid." Am I stupid? Calvin really is great—handsome, generous. My credit card has no limit; I can have whatever I want. But when he looked at me, the deep affection in his eyes was never meant for me—he was just seeing Vivian's shadow through me. Before I could think any further, my phone rang; it was Calvin Luke. "Viola, come back when you're done," his voice carried a hint of excitement. "I've got a surprise for you." My heart skipped a beat, but I still answered, said goodbye to Daisy Xavier, and bought the fastest ticket back home. Back at the Luke Family Old Residence, the servants glanced at me nervously, their greetings quieter than usual. The living room was eerily silent, with only laughter coming from the Banquet Hall. I pushed open the door, and the next second, I was rooted to the spot. In the middle of the banquet hall, a woman in a white dress linked arms with Calvin Luke, smiling sweetly. That face was a perfect match for Vivian Lincoln's.