I Swapped His Fake Gift for a Real Life novel Chapter 67

Vincent dreamed.

He was eighteen, training with a special unit deep in the mountains. That summer, the air was thin and the drills

brutal.

And then he met her.

A bright–eyed girl with a younger sister in tow, hustling through life because her father gambled and her mother was

sick.

She accidentally wandered into the training zone and bumped right into him while he was slacking off.

Her eyes–wide, startled, honest–looked straight through him.

“Sorry,” she said, hugging her arms to her chest. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I was just curious about what you guys were

doing.”

Vincent meant to scold her.

But truthfully? He was tired of the endless yelling and push–ups. Having someone–anyone–break the monotony was a

welcome distraction.

So he put on his best stern face. “You’re not allowed to leave. Unauthorized entry into a military zone carries

consequences.”

Panic flickered across her features.

He tried not to laugh.

“See that mountain over there?” he pointed. “You’re being punished. Climb it. I’ll be watching from the top. If I don’t see

you up there, I’m reporting you.”

He just wanted to mess with her.

But when he finally scaled that steep incline, she was already there–fast asleep beneath a peach tree.

Humiliation flared

“How’d you beat me? You must’ve cheated”

She shook her head furiously. “I climb this mountain every day to get to town. You’re never going to beat me.

They raced again.

He lost. Again.

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“Someday,” he panted, hands on his knees. “I’ll be stronger. I’ll beat you. Just wait.”

Her laugh was like sunlight. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

They walked down together. As dusk settled, a searing pain shot through his leg. Then his foot slipped on a patch of loose

undergrowth. His body plummeted downward, thorny vines tearing at his skin as he fell. Just as he braced for impact at

the valley’s bottom, a hand caught his.

The young girl possessed astonishing strength. She’d thrown him a vine and hauled him back up.

When he collapsed onto the mossy ground, she pointed to his ankle.

“You got bit! That’s a snake bite!”

Only then did the pain register. Dizziness followed.

He passed out.

When he came to, he was lying on a haystack. His ankle was wrapped in herbal paste.

“You city types can’t handle mountain snakes,” she teased. “You should go back. Get real treatment. Or you’ll die.”

He chuckled weakly and stood, nearly falling into her arms.

She caught him. Her hands were rough and calloused–but warm.

As he limped away, he turned back. “Will I ever see you again?”

She waved, grinning “Sure. I’m going to the city one day. Gonna see what your world looks like.”

Then she tossed him a locket.

‘For protection.”

Years later, at a high–society gala, he saw her again.

Gone was the mountain girl.

Her slender figure, paired with an elegant dress, made her seem like a completely different person from the girl who had

once trudged up the mountain.

But beside her stood Callum Rivers.

The prince of Astoria’s elite.

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