Gold Digger vs Gold Saver My Man's Double Life novel Chapter 21

**Marriage Without Temperature by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 5**

As I observed Sander bustling around me, his energy laced with a hint of worry, a smile crept onto my face, unbidden and warm.

But the moment that smile bloomed, a chill ran through me, freezing my expression in place.

It struck me then—ever since I had tied the knot with Theo and faced a string of hollow disappointments, I couldn’t recall the last time I had smiled so freely, without a cloud of dread looming overhead.

This realization stirred a complicated mix of emotions in my chest, a cocktail of nostalgia and regret that made it hard to breathe.

“Jules?” Sander’s voice cut through my thoughts, his concern palpable.

I shook my head, trying to convey that I was perfectly fine, though inside I felt anything but.

The absurdity of Sander’s childhood came rushing back to me, the image of him dressed as a girl to please his grandparents struck me as both ridiculous and hilarious.

His grandparents had harbored a single, deep regret throughout their lives—they had only one son, Sander’s father, and never got to cherish the sweet little daughter they had longed for.

They had clung to the hope of having a granddaughter, but fate had dealt them a cruel hand. Sander’s mother had faced health complications that limited her to just one pregnancy, and after that, the doctors had firmly advised against any further attempts.

The extended family didn’t provide any solace either. It was as if the universe had conspired against them—every branch of the Blackwood family tree yielded nothing but boys.

This became a sore point for Sander’s grandparents, who would dramatically clutch their heads in despair every time they heard of another baby boy being born.

So, in a moment of misguided affection, Sander, the youngest of the clan, was persuaded by his parents and older cousins to don dresses and play the role of their cherished granddaughter. He spent five formative years living with his grandparents in Santa Fe, his androgynous looks fooling everyone in that small town, including his aging grandparents whose eyesight was fading.

They genuinely believed they had been blessed with a second child—a little girl this time—and their joy knew no bounds.

My family lived right next door to the Blackwoods, so I witnessed the transformation firsthand.

Little Sander was treated like royalty by his grandmother, who styled his long black hair into intricate braids that changed daily, dressing him in frilly gowns of every imaginable hue, never repeating an outfit.

His parents coached him to maintain an air of delicate refinement, urging him to remain quiet so he wouldn’t inadvertently reveal his true identity.

And Sander took this role very seriously, pressing his lips together in a haughty manner that intimidated most of the other children who were curious about the pretty new girl in town.

But I was different. My upbringing had been entirely the opposite. My parents had raised me like a boy, encouraging me to climb trees, catch fish in the creek, and create general mayhem—essentially, I was the neighborhood terror.

Some of the local boys developed crushes on the enchanting little Sander but were too timid to approach him, so they sent me in as a spy to gauge the situation.

And then, in a surprising twist, I switched allegiances completely.

I began to mimic his quiet, graceful manners while he learned to climb trees and roughhouse from me.

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