I married the famous sick prince in Beijing for my twin sister.
On the wedding night, he coughed up blood and handed me an agreement: "Everyone gets what he needs, and we get divorced in three years."
I tried my best to play the role of a docile wife until that day when I went to the company to deliver documents to him.
Pushing open the office door, I saw him throwing the same piece of paper in front of his sister:
"You should have been the one who got married three years ago. She was just a substitute."
I quietly exited and packed my bags that night.
But he blocked the door with red eyes and held my wrist tightly:
"But I regret it now. No matter how much I am a substitute, can you stay?"
There was the sound of high heels rushing behind me - my sister was chasing after me.
