Lu Tingshen spent thirty million yuan to buy a stand-in.
He made her wear white dresses, play the piano, and imitate that woman, treating her as another person's shadow.
The day his beloved returned, he said in front of everyone, “You aren't fit to hold a candle to her.”
Lin Qingwan smiled.
She tore up the pregnancy test results, threw them in the trash, then turned and leaped into the icy sea.
Five years later, she was Luna, a genius designer causing a sensation in Paris, with a miniature version of Lu Tingshen by her side.
With red-rimmed eyes, Lu Tingshen blocked her car, his voice hoarse. “The child is mine, isn't he?”
Lin Qingwan tightened her hold on her son's hand and didn't look back.
“Sir, you've mistaken me for someone else.”
