Chapter 1

My CEO wife, Bianca Bennett, who used to love me to the point of obsession, blew out the candles on her birthday cake, opened her eyes, and looked at me like I was a stranger.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked.

"Where’s Connor? Even if I have to get married, he’s the only one I’ll ever marry."

She screamed and bolted out the door. As I stood there, utterly paralyzed, a stream of floating text suddenly flashed across my vision.

[Looks like the side character is totally clueless. The female lead swapped souls with her eighteen-year-old self! She’s heading out to find her true love now.]

[Honestly, he should just be grateful. If his face didn't look so much like the male lead's, he never would've married into a rich family in the first place.]

[Too bad the soul swap only lasts for thirty days. Go get him, teen female lead! Win back your first love, so when your older self comes back, you’ll get a nice little surprise!]

My blood ran cold.

Two weeks later, Bianca walked back through the front door, dragging a guy who was a dead ringer for me right behind her.

She slammed a set of divorce papers onto the table in front of me.

"The house is mine, and the money is mine," she sneered, "You’ve been living off Connor's likeness for years. Sign the papers and get out."

Chapter 1

The divorce papers hit the glass desktop with a sharp, heavy thud. At that exact moment, I was halfway through marking up the late-stage proposals for Bianca Bennett's company's Westside Project.

The visual feed floating across my field of vision suddenly exploded with new commentary.

[Cue the desperate clinging! There’s no chance he gives up his ticket to the easy life.]

[Living like royalty for all these years, only to be tossed onto the curb? Yeah, right.]

[Get the popcorn ready. He’s about to start sobbing, begging the teen female lead not to dump him.]

I flipped straight to the final signature page.

[The spouse hereby voluntarily waives all claims to marital property.]

I slid the paper right back across the desk.

"I’m not signing this."

My wife, Bianca Bennett, shot me a dark look.

I met her gaze dead-on. "You don't have the authority to end a marriage on behalf of twenty-eight-year-old Bianca."

The stream stalled for a solid beat.

[Wait, what? He’s not begging?]

[Hold up, 'twenty-eight-year-old Bianca'? Does this dude actually know about the soul swap?]

[Oh, I get it. He’s stalling to stash away her cash before she boots him!]

Bianca slammed both hands down onto the desk, the tips of her ears flushed bright scarlet.

"I’m Bianca! The house is mine, the company is mine, and the money is mine!" she snapped, "Ten years from now, my future self must’ve completely lost her mind and married you. You really think I’m not allowed to fix that mistake?"

I stared at the face I knew better than my own, realizing with a chill that she felt like a total stranger.

The real, twenty-eight-year-old Bianca almost never lost her temper. In our six years of marriage, she never forgot my chronic stomach issues, or that I hated mint.

No matter how late her business dinners ran, she always crept into the bedroom and turned on only the dim bedside lamp, knowing how light a sleeper I was.

The single time she had ever raised her voice at me was when I burned my hand on the steam while making her hangover soup. She had grabbed my wrist, yanked it under cold running water, and looked angrier than I felt.

However, this eighteen-year-old version standing in front of me was pure, unfiltered venom.

My fingers twitched, curling inward into tight fists.

It was fine.

The soul swap only lasted thirty days.

Just fifteen more days, and the real Bianca would come back.

"When the real Bianca returns, if she wants out, I’ll sign without a fight," I said, keeping my voice steady, "But we divide joint assets according to the law. Every single cent I'm entitled to, I take."

Bianca blinked, momentarily caught off guard by my response.

Her first love, Connor Harper, stepped out from behind her, his hand reaching forward to gently tug on her sleeve.

"Bianca, come on," he said softly, looking at her, “Elliot has been by your side for so many years. You should at least give him something to walk away with."

The phrase “He’s been by your side for so many years” hit me wrong, painting me as nothing more than a high-maintenance boy toy she had kept on a leash for six years.

Connor paused, lowering his tone into something almost performatively gentle. "Besides, I’m with you because of who you are, not your bank account."

I shifted my gaze to him.

His brow line and eyes were, in fact, terrifyingly close to mine.

A memory surfaced, unbidden—our very first blind date, six years ago, when Bianca had stared at me for two full seconds before speaking. A detail I had brushed off back then now felt like a barbed needle twisting beneath my skin.

Bianca ate up every word he said.

"Five million dollars," she declared, looking down at me as if she were bestowing life-changing charity, "Consider it emotional damage compensation. That ought to be more than enough."

The feed went completely wild.

[Don't hate on her, she's not trying to flex! At eighteen, five million sounds like infinite cash!]

Chapter 2

[Someone please tell her the older version is worth well over a hundred billion by now, LOL!]

I almost laughed out of sheer frustration.

Just then, a knock sounded at the office door.

My assistant, Gavin Whitmore, walked in holding a stack of documents. Seeing the tense standoff in the room, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking straight up to my desk.

"Sir, the counterparty on the Westside Project is holding firm at three point seven billion," Gavin reported, "Do we keep pushing for a price cut?"

Bianca snapped her head toward him.

"Why are you asking him?" she demanded.

Gavin looked visibly uncomfortable. "Miss Bennett, considering your... State over the past two weeks..."

He cleared his throat softly. "All major projects recently, including communications with the board, have been handled directly by Mr. Morgan."

Bianca opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Files were scattered all over the glass table, every single margin covered in my handwriting.

I slid the Westside Project folder directly over to her.

"You take it then," I said, "Three point seven billion. Do we push, or do we yield?"

She picked up the file and skimmed it. Within thirty seconds, her brows knotted into a tight scowl.

There was no shame in an eighteen-year-old high school kid being unable to understand high-level corporate acquisition contracts.

Clearly, though, Bianca didn't view it that way.

"Just because I don't understand it right now doesn't mean I won't get it later!" She slammed the contract back down onto the desk.

"Starting today, I'm running this company myself."

…

I gave a single nod. "You're free to take your time learning, but the tens of thousands of employees at Bennett Corporation can't wait ten years for you to catch up."

Bianca's face flushed a deep, violent red.

Connor instantly stepped up, taking her hand into his.

"I might not be as capable as Elliot, but I can help you review documents and organize files," he offered gently.

Bianca's eyes lit up.

"Then you do it," she said, turning to him, "From now on, you're the Vice President."

Connor waved his hands in exaggerated protest.

"Stop playing around, how could I do that?" he insisted, casting a cautious glance my way. "Elliot won't be happy about it."

I looked him dead in the eye. "The VP role isn't a vanity prize you hand out to sweet-talk your boyfriend."

Connor’s eyes instantly welled up with tears.

"If Elliot is concerned, I can start from an entry-level position," Connor said, his voice dropping to a vulnerable murmur, "I really just want to help Bianca."

Bianca immediately stepped in front of him, shielding him from my gaze.

"This is my company! If I say he's the Vice President, he's the Vice President!"

The text feed lit up the air again.

[Omg, this is pure eighteen-year-old devotion! She literally wants to give the male lead the world!]

[Why hasn't the side character left yet? He's been leeching off her money, her company, and her title, and now he won't even give up a VP spot?]

[When the older version comes back and sees her eighteen-year-old self fixed both her love life and career, she's going to be so grateful!]

I tightened my grip on the pen in my hand.

"Gavin."

"Yes, Sir."

"Process this appointment through standard corporate protocol with the board and legal department. Hold the vote, file the documentation, do everything by the book. Do not skip a single step just because it came straight from the CEO's mouth."

Bianca's head snapped up.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means," I said, closing my laptop, "If you want to run the company, I won't stop you. But this business isn't a playground."

The thing she hated most was being treated like a child.

Predictably, she blew up the next second.

"Stop acting like you know everything!" she screamed.

"Gavin, revoke all his access right now! Approval rights, project authorization, keycard access to the executive floor—cut every single one of them!"

Gavin stood rooted to the spot, darting a quick look at me.

I knew what was making him hesitate.

If I didn’t give the word, he wouldn't carry out her orders.

However, Bianca was both the Chairwoman and CEO. If we got into a public screaming match in this office, tomorrow's financial headlines would be all about a power struggle between the Bennett power couple.

When corporate stock tanked, tens of thousands of employees would bear the brunt of it.

There was no reason to burn everything to the ground over a temporary fifteen-day glitch.

"Do as she says," I told Gavin.

"Sir..." Gavin muttered under his breath.

"It's fine."

I handed him the last file on my desk. "All my risk assessments for the Westside Project are inside. Pass them along to the project team."

With that, I picked up my jacket.

When I walked past Bianca, her jaw was clamped tight, holding her head high as if she had finally won a massive battle.

I didn't bother offering a single word of explanation.

Her eighteen-year-old self wouldn't get it anyway.

In addition, I had no intention of putting Connor in the middle of our crossfire.

Behind her, the corners of Connor’s mouth twitched upward in a smug smile.

Chapter 3

Stepping out of the Bennett Corporation building, the cold wind whipped straight down my collar.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

"Mr. Morgan, the external cardiac monitor you ordered has arrived," the courier said over the line.

I froze for a second.

Bianca had pulled every string she had to secure that medical device before the soul swap happened. It was still in its trial phase, meant specifically for my grandmother, whose heart condition had been deteriorating.

I rushed over to the nursing home and handed the equipment over to her attending doctor.

Seeing me walk in alone, Grandma glanced toward the doorway twice.

"Where's Bianca?" she asked, "I haven't seen her in two weeks. Did you two get into a fight?"

"No, Grandma," I said, tucking her blanket in around the edges, "She's just been swamped with work lately. She'll come visit you in a few days."

Grandma sighed softly. "At my age, who knows how many 'few days' I have left?"

She began rambling about Bianca again, her voice full of affection.

"Bianca gets stomach cramps whenever she catches a chill. You make sure to keep her stomach warm. Don't look down on that warm compress trick I taught you just because it sounds old-fashioned. Three years ago, if she hadn't brought in those top specialists for me, I wouldn't even be here today."

I lowered my head with a soft chuckle, but my eyes stung with heat.

Even when she wasn't around, her presence was stamped onto every corner of my life.

The equipment was hers.

The Bianca in Grandma's fond stories was hers, too.

All I could do was keep waiting.

Fifteen days left.

That evening, I returned to the villa and pressed my thumb against the door lock.

"Fingerprint not recognized," a cold, mechanical voice chimed through the speaker.

The text feed flashed across my field of vision instantly.

[She deleted his fingerprint! Now he knows who the real master of the house is!]

[Connor already moved in! How does this guy even have the face to come back here?]

[When the teen version said she was giving the main guy a home, she meant it for real!]

I stood motionless at the front door.

Through the intercom camera, the butler, Sebastian Sinclair's face was scrunched up in discomfort.

"Sir... Ma'am gave strict orders. From now on, whenever you return... You have to ask for her permission first."

Connor's voice drifted out from inside. "Mr. Sinclair, let Elliot in. It's cold outside."

The front door clicked open.

As I stepped through the doorway, a thought suddenly struck me.

What if one day, twenty-eight-year-old Bianca stopped loving me, too?

It turned out that my home, my lock, and everything I had taken for granted could lock me out completely with just a single word from someone else.

The realization slowed my steps.

Connor came forward to greet me. "Elliot, please don't hold it against Bianca. She was just worried I wouldn't feel comfortable living here."

I ignored him entirely.

Bianca was curled up on the couch playing video games, not even bothering to look up. "I already contacted a lawyer. We're notarizing everything tomorrow to transfer all assets under my name to Connor."

She paused briefly. "Including this house."

This time, I stopped dead in my tracks.

I could fight to protect our joint marital assets. However, her property was hers to dispose of, and she had every legal right to sign it away right now.

By the time the twenty-eight-year-old Bianca returned, most of those assets would be permanently beyond recovery.

Of course I wanted to stop her. Yet I couldn't open my mouth.

The current Bianca was convinced I was after her money. If I urged her not to do it, she would only see it as my greedy reluctance to let go, giving away even more just to prove her point.

So, I could only watch, utterly powerless to act.

I picked up my bag to head upstairs.

Mr. Sinclair blocked the base of the staircase, looking pained. "Sir... Your belongings... Ma'am had them moved to the guest room."

In the most remote guest room in the house, my clothes and cufflinks were tossed haphazardly across the bed, while several of my leather bags lay slumped on the floor.

I stood at the doorway for a long time before slowly stepping inside.

That was when my mother-in-law, Vivian Bennett, called.

"Elliott, dear, my birthday party is coming soon," she said warmly over the phone, "Come over early and help me host the guests."

"Will do, Vivian," I replied.

Hanging up, I bent down and picked up a pair of trousers off the floor.

Suddenly, I didn't want to count down the remaining days anymore.

I pulled up my messaging app and tapped on my private attorney's chat window.

[Help me compile a complete inventory of all legally divisible marital assets.]

…

Over the next few days, credit card invoices poured in one after another.

Fine jewelry, designer handbags, sports cars…

Bianca acted as if she were desperately making up for every gift her eighteen-year-old self had never gotten to give Connor, showering him with lavish presents.

I didn't bother interfering.

In the study, my old investment banking notes from six years ago were gathering dust. I opened them again and began messaging old colleagues, systematically reclaiming my own personal wealth, career, and network.

Chapter 4

Vivian’s birthday banquet was on Wednesday.

I arrived at the hotel early to help her double-check the guest list.

Just as dinner was about to start, a sudden hush fell over the entrance.

I followed everyone’s eyes toward the doorway.

Bianca had arrived.

Connor was clinging to her arm, sharp in a light ivory suit, with a pink diamond pendant flashing painfully bright at his chest.

Behind me, someone lowered their voice.

"Isn't that the pink diamond from the auction last week? The one Miss Bennett went into a bidding war to get?"

"I thought she bought that as a present for her husband?"

"Everyone did! She’s famous for spoiling him. Who else would she buy a pink diamond for besides Elliot Morgan?"

"Then who is that wearing it on his…?"

The sentence trailed off, unfinished.

That was the moment I realized the rest of the world had assumed the pink diamond was meant for me.

The eyes of the surrounding crowd turned toward me, thick with awkward sympathy.

Vivian's face darkened on the spot.

She walked straight over, her cold gaze locked onto Connor.

"Bianca, if you were bringing an extra guest, why didn't you mention it ahead of time?" she said, "Seating for today is fully reserved. There aren't any extra chairs."

Connor instantly let go of Bianca's arm.

"Mrs. Bennett, I'm so sorry, this is my fault," he said, his eyes welling up with tears as he looked over at Bianca, "I should just leave before I ruin your mood."

Bianca grabbed his arm and yanked him right back.

"It's just pulling up an extra chair," she snapped, "Is that really necessary?"

Vivian let out a cold laugh and signaled the head server over.

A few minutes later, the staff actually carried over an extra chair.

It was made of old, worn wood, with a chunk of paint peeled right off the backrest.

Plunked down amid a sea of velvet dining chairs, it stood out like a sore thumb.

"Mr. Harper, sorry for the inconvenience," the head server said.

The entire hall fell completely silent.

All the color drained straight out of Connor's face.

Bianca caught the insult immediately.

Her face darkened with anger as she grabbed Connor by the arm and stormed out.

Vivian was shaking with rage, so I stepped forward to support her arm.

After the banquet wrapped up, I drove her back to the family villa.

The car had been moving for a long time before she finally spoke up.

"Connor Harper was Bianca's high school boyfriend.

"The moment I laid eyes on him back then, I knew that boy was bad news. But at Bianca's age, once she set her mind on someone, nobody could talk sense into her."

After high school graduation, Vivian had made arrangements to send Bianca abroad for college.

Panicking, Connor had tried to set a trap for Bianca, attempting to force her into marriage. Vivian had anticipated his scheme and played security footage right in front of everyone, exposing his trickery to Bianca once and for all.

Shortly after that, Bianca went abroad.

I stared out the window, feeling oddly calm inside.

Vivian reached over and gently patted my hand.

When we reached the villa, she retrieved a vintage timepiece from the safe.

"This belongs to the Bennetts’ son-in-law," she said, strapping it onto my wrist herself, "I should’ve given this to you years ago. Consider it long overdue."

The text stream in my vision blew up instantly.

[Are you serious?! The main guy lost his girlfriend for ten whole years, and now the stand-in gets to wear the heirloom watch meant for him?!]

[Lol, he actually accepted it! Just because you look like the main guy doesn't mean you're actually part of the Bennetts!]

[Just wait till the real female lead gets back! The very first thing she'll do is strip that watch right off his wrist and give it back to the main guy!]

I brushed my thumb over the cold surface of the watch face.

Just two days left.

The second I got back into the car, my phone rang. It was from the nursing home.

"Mr. Morgan! Your grandmother suddenly collapsed! She's been rushed to emergency!"

…

I raced straight to the hospital. The doctor told me that while her condition had stabilized for the moment, she needed emergency surgery as soon as possible.

"Our surgical team isn't confident in handling a case this complex," the doctor explained, "Your best option is to contact Dr. Carter's team—the ones who performed her surgery three years ago."

It hit me right then that I didn't even have Dr. Carter's contact info.

Three years ago, Bianca had handled every single detail, from reaching out to the specialists to setting up the procedure.

I had only ever focused on staying by my grandmother's bedside.

I turned around and sped straight back to the villa.

Bianca and Connor were sitting in the living room watching TV.

"Grandma needs emergency surgery," I said, walking right up to her, "I need you to use your authority as Bianca to reach out to Dr. Carter's team from three years ago."

Bianca blinked, startled for a second, then immediately pulled out her phone.

"What's his full name?"

"Dr. Carter. That's all I remember."

She began scrolling through her contacts while I quickly briefed her on my grandmother's condition.

Chapter 5

When the call finally connected, Bianca surprisingly didn't lose her temper. She answered every single question from the doctor with genuine care.

Hanging up, she said, "They’ll land tomorrow night at eight."

The tight knot in my chest finally loosened.

"Thank you."

She looked a bit unnatural, rubbing her nose awkwardly.

"If you really want to thank me, sign the divorce papers and let Connor and I be together."

I looked at her. "I'll say it again. When the real Bianca comes back, if she wants a divorce, I'll sign."

As I walked toward the door, I heard Connor lower his voice.

"Why didn't you set terms just now? He’s desperate. If you forced him to sign first, he would've done it."

"A life is on the line! You expect me to blackmail him with that?" Bianca’s tone turned ice-cold instantly. "Do you really think I’m that heartless?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I was just worried you’d get taken advantage of."

"Even so, you don't kick someone when they’re down."

I didn't turn back.

At the very least, eighteen-year-old Bianca wasn't entirely rotten.

Around noon the next day, right as I was about to call Bianca to ask her to visit Grandma before the surgery, Connor arrived at the hospital first.

He handed me the divorce papers.

Once again, it demanded I walk away with nothing.

“Bianca said the visiting surgical team will only arrive on schedule if you sign this."

I looked up at him. "That's impossible."

He let out a quiet chuckle. "Feel free to call and ask her. But right now, she listens to everything I say.

"Elliot, I don't need her to threaten you in person. All I need is a way to make sure that team never shows up, and that's enough."

He glanced toward the emergency room. "Are you willing to gamble your grandmother's life on this?"

The warmth drained from my fingers, inch by inch.

Bianca hadn't had this attitude last night. Yet Connor clearly knew how to pull her strings.

I couldn't afford to gamble.

"I’ll sign."

I took the pen.

"On one condition. Tell Bianca to come to the hospital today and see my grandmother before surgery."

Connor agreed without hesitation.

I glanced at the date. Past midnight tonight, the real Bianca would be back.

The surgery was scheduled for eight tomorrow morning. There was still time.

I put my name on the page.

I waited all the way until nine at night, but Bianca never showed up.

There was no word from the surgical team scheduled to arrive at eight, either.

I dialed her number repeatedly, but nobody picked up.

The text feed flashed into view:

[The teen version and the main guy are popping champagne at the villa right now to celebrate the divorce!]

[Are they finally sealing the deal tonight? OMG!]

Over by the operating room, a doctor ran out with hurried steps.

"Where’s Dr. Carter? The patient's condition is deteriorating rapidly! We can't wait any longer!"

I called Bianca one more time.

Still no answer.

Left with no choice, I scrambled to contact hospitals and transferred departments myself to locate Dr. Carter.

Finally, the voice on the line said, "Dr. Carter's team canceled their trip earlier today around one in the afternoon."

One in the afternoon.

Shortly after I had signed the papers.

My hand shook so violently the phone nearly slipped from my grip.

The doctor looked at me. "Mr. Morgan, we can't wait."

My voice trembled uncontrollably. "Then please perform the surgery yourselves."

When the consent form was handed over, my signature was a crooked, jagged mess.

After Grandma was wheeled inside, my legs buckled, and I slid down the wall onto the cold floor.

This time, the floating text went silent for a very long time.

Only a single line slowly drifted past:

[I suddenly feel kind of sorry for the side character.]

The electronic clock on the hallway wall ticked past midnight.

The operating room door swung open. The surgeon pulled off his mask and gave me a slow shake of his head.

In that fraction of a second, the world went completely silent.

I tried to stand up, but my legs had no strength left.

The text feed in front of my eyes suddenly went wild:

[Holy crap! The real female lead?!]

[How did she come back inside her eighteen-year-old body?!]

[It really is her!]

I turned my head stiffly.

At the far end of the hallway, a young girl was running frantically toward me.

It was Bianca’s eighteen-year-old body.

Yet the look in her eyes as she stared at me was terrifyingly familiar.

Bianca threw herself in front of me, her eyes bloodshot, her breath ragged.

"Hubby!"