Ditching Me for His 'Soulmate'? His Loss. Next Stop: My New Life novel Chapter 125

Chapter 2

John Sterling emerged from the bathroom, his skin still damp from the shower, and found me seated on the couch, clutching a freshly revised contract. The soft glow of the living room lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the tension that hung in the air.

“This is the updated agreement,” I said, extending the papers toward him.

He took them, scanning the pages with a furrowed brow. “The terms haven’t changed since five years ago. I’m still playing the role of your boyfriend, but…” I paused, my voice dropping slightly, “no more intimacy.”

His body stiffened, and his eyes darkened as they locked onto mine.

“Why?” he asked, the single word heavy with confusion and something else I couldn’t quite place.

I shrugged, a trace of dry sarcasm coloring my tone. “Just add that clause.”

For the first three years, I was nothing more than a shadow—an impersonator hired to mimic Clare Harper’s every move. I was no different than the housekeeper who cleaned his rooms or the chauffeur who drove him around. Just another cog in his carefully controlled world.

But for the last two years, things had shifted. I became his girlfriend—not for money, but because I believed, foolishly perhaps, that he genuinely cared for me—the real me, not some stand-in.

One night, after too many drinks, a kiss had sparked something neither of us expected. His breath was warm against my skin, his voice low and husky as he murmured, “Claire, can I?”

How could I refuse? My cheeks burned as I nodded shyly, and what followed was a whirlwind of passion that left me breathless.

From that moment, our boundaries blurred. We crossed that line repeatedly, falling into a pattern of weekly intimacy. I felt like a girl experiencing love for the first time, pouring my heart into making his cold mansion feel like a home. I bought new curtains, sofa covers, and kitchen gadgets with my own money, slowly transforming the sterile space into something warm and inviting.

For two years, I allowed myself to feel happy, even if only in secret.

Then one evening, I found myself at the bar where he was with his friends. I overheard their conversation.

“Sterling, your goddess Clare isn’t coming back. Are you seriously going to marry that stand-in girl?”

John didn’t respond, simply puffing on his cigarette in silence.

Another voice chimed in, “Looks like it. Sterling’s always been a romantic. Maybe five years of pretending turned real, and he’s actually fallen for Claire.”

All eyes shifted to him. After a long pause, he chuckled softly.

“Clare Harper? Never heard of her. My girlfriend’s name is Claire.”

That night, my heart swelled with hope. I dared to believe he had finally let go of the past.

But then Clare returned, and reality crashed down on me like a freight train.

Those two years of happiness? Nothing more than stolen moments.

The proposal I’d been dreaming about for a week? Just a cruel ploy to make Clare jealous.

My silence seemed to irritate John. He stepped closer, his impatience clear.

“Claire, just add it to the contract, alright?”

I smiled, keeping my voice light, but the edge was unmistakable.

“Sure, Mr. Sterling. But you might want to check the addendum—those extras will cost you.”

Without missing a beat, he pulled out his phone and wired me one million dollars.

“Is that enough, Claire?”

“More than enough,” I replied calmly, though bitterness twisted inside me.

He didn’t notice the mocking smile that flickered across my face as he moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

My fists clenched, every muscle fighting the urge to push him away.

Earlier, I had noticed faint marks on his neck—the unmistakable evidence of Clare’s touch from that evening’s party.

Sensing my tension, John slowed, then stopped altogether.

In the dim light, his eyes searched mine.

“Claire, what’s wrong? Why are you acting like this?”

Frustration laced his voice.

“Are you upset with me?”

I forced a laugh, shaking my head.

“Not at all, Mr. Sterling. You paid for my time, and I’m here to fulfill my obligations.”

“Including this body.”

His expression darkened.

Abruptly, he stood up, buttoning his shirt back on.

“You’re something else, Claire,” he said coldly.

Grabbing a pillow, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Left alone in the darkness, I stared at the ceiling, swallowed whole by the suffocating silence of my own loneliness.