Chapter 1

• Vilma Levine pushed the door open just in time to overhear a group of men chatting about the all-consuming power of first love.
• "Frederic, we've all said it—now it's your turn. Don't even think about running away," one of them laughed.
• The name hit Vilma like a punch to the gut. She froze with her hand still on the door, her heart racing.
• After a long pause, Frederic Warren took a slow sip of his drink. The room remained still for a moment longer until his voice broke the silence—low and thick with the weight of alcohol.
• "I had her name tattooed over my heart," he murmured, his words hanging in the air like a ghost. "I've never washed it off.
• "There's a bloodstain on my motorcycle jacket from the first time we were together. I've kept it all these years.
• "And my girlfriend now? She's just a placeholder. A stand-in for her."
• Each word hit Vilma like a thunderclap.
• Her blood seemed to freeze. The world around her went numb as if she'd fallen into an ice cellar.
• Was she just a replacement for his first love?
• The room went silent for a beat, then erupted in loud laughter and cheers.
• "Damn, that's hardcore."
• "Only you, Frederic, could win the game with a few words like that. True romantic at heart."
• "I heard Barbra Wilcox is coming back to the country soon. Since you've never really moved on from her, does that mean you're getting back together? After all this time? What about your girlfriend, though? Isn't she your sister's best friend? If you don't handle that right, won't they end up hating each other?"
• Frederic went quiet again, not responding.
• Seeing someone preparing to leave the room, Vilma snapped back to reality. Her legs felt like jelly as she hurried down the stairs.
• Outside, the rain poured, but she walked straight into it as if she had lost all sensation. The cold, hard raindrops stung her face, mingling with the tears she hadn't even realized she'd shed.
• Her vision blurred, and the words she had just heard repeated over and over in her mind. A flood of memories swelled.
• Frederic was her best friend's older brother, four years older than her.
• The first time she met him was in high school when she and her best friend were cornered by a gang of bullies in an alley.
• Just when they were about to give up, Frederic appeared, riding in on his motorcycle. His tall, striking figure dismounted as he removed his helmet. His cold voice cut through the air, "Are you the ones messing with my little sister?"
• When he took off his helmet, revealing his face, Vilma's heart hammered in her chest.
• She'd heard all about how stunning Frederic was from her best friend, but seeing him in person left her breathless. In just a few swift moves, he had those bullies on the ground.
• Back then, every girl in school had a crush on someone—but not Vilma. Not until that day.
• That day, she found herself falling for her best friend's brother.
• When they both entered college, her appearance had changed—her face, her figure, everything was more mature. With her best friend's encouragement, she finally worked up the courage to go after Frederic.
• She made him breakfast every morning, staged countless "accidental" encounters, and paid attention to every little detail about him, just so she could find something to talk about.
• But no matter what she did, Frederic always treated her like a little kid, his indifference to her advances cutting deeper than she cared to admit.
• Occasionally, when he'd absentmindedly glance at her face, there'd be a moment of hesitation—just a flicker of something in his eyes.
• It wasn't until that day, when he was driving her home, that everything changed. Out of nowhere, a car swerved into their lane. Without thinking, she threw herself in front of him.
• The brakes screeched in time, and she wasn't seriously hurt—just a small cut near her eye, about the size of a fingernail, and it was bleeding.
• But Frederic's reaction was unlike anything she'd seen before. He panicked. He rushed her to the hospital, asking the doctor repeatedly whether it would leave a scar.
• Only when the doctor assured him there wouldn't be any permanent marks did he relax. But then his expression hardened as he scolded her, furious that she had risked her life.
• Vilma looked at him, her eyes sparkling with emotion, unable to hide her feelings. "Because I love you."
• Frederic stood frozen, his face unreadable for a moment, before a sneer curled on his lips.
• "Love?" he scoffed. "You're just a girl. What do you know about love? How long could you possibly love me?"
• "For a lifetime!" she declared without hesitation. "I'll love you for a lifetime."
• Something in her voice, the quiet but unwavering certainty, made Frederic pause. He reached out, gently touching her face for the first time.
• He sighed deeply, and for the first time, he spoke the words she had longed to hear. "Vilma, let's give it a try."
• And from that moment on, they were a couple.
• For three years, Frederic had remained distant, his cold demeanor unchanged. But still, he took care of her in all the ways that mattered, and she never dared to ask for more.
• But tonight, everything shattered. The conversation she overheard had ripped apart the illusion she had so carefully built around him.
• The moments when he'd stared at her face, lost in thought? She was just a stand-in.
• The times he'd been concerned when she got hurt? Just because she was a stand-in.
• Every time during their intimate moments, he preferred positions where he could see her face.
• It was because he took her for Barbra!
• Her heart splintered with every thought, her tears falling without end. She cried until she was numb, her body soaked through with rain. Exhausted from the pain, she stumbled back home, too weary to keep fighting the ache in her chest.
• Collapsing on the floor, she wasn't sure how long she lay there. Eventually, her tears dried up, her mind cleared, and the reality of her situation settled in. From her bag, she pulled out a business card.
• It was from a few weeks ago after she'd impulsively performed an original song for Frederic at a bar. A scout had given it to her afterward.
• He had told her that her voice was exceptional, her appearance striking. He'd asked if she'd ever considered becoming a singer. The company would take her abroad for three years of secret training, shaping her into a top-tier star.
• Singing had always been her dream. Once, she'd imagined herself on stage, a star. But to stay close to Frederic, she'd turned down the offer.
• Now, after hearing what she had, staying by his side felt pointless.
• Vilma stared at the phone number on the card, then lifted her cold, almost purple hand to dial with trembling fingers.
• When the call connected, she cleared her throat, her voice hoarse and exhausted, but determined. "Hello, this is Vilma Levine. I've decided to sign with you."