The Masterpiece of Leaving：Prepared A Perfect Stand-In For Him novel Chapter 1

After five years of marriage, Navier Armstrong wanted a divorce.

When she arrived at the office, she spotted the secretary heading toward her husband Lysander Vanderbilt’s office with a stack of documents.

Using the excuse that she was heading the same way, she took the stack of papers, discreetly slipping the divorce agreement among them.

As she handed over the documents, Lysander was on the phone.

Without even glancing at them, he signed everything—including the divorce agreement.

Navier stared at his signature on the divorce papers, momentarily lost in thought.

So this is it. It’s finally ending.

Just as she reached for the documents to leave, her elbow accidentally knocked over a delicate picture frame on his desk. It toppled over, glass shattering across the surface.

The smiling girl in the photo was now partially obscured by broken glass.

It was Ophelia Belmont, Lysander's deceased first love.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Lysander abruptly ended his call, his voice snapping with fury.

He shot to his feet and roughly shoved Navier aside.

She stumbled backward and her palm landing on shards of glass. Sharp pain shot through her hand, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry out though tears welled up involuntarily.

Looking down, she watched blood dripping from her fingertips, staining the documents on the floor.

Lysander seemed oblivious to her pain.

He knelt down, carefully picking up the photograph and gently brushing away the glass fragments, terrified of causing the slightest damage. His movements were tender and focused, as if handling a priceless treasure.

Navier's heart turned to ice. She stared at the man before her, a wave of indescribable desolation washing over her.

Five years of marriage, and she—a living, breathing human being—still couldn't compete with a photograph.

"Why are you still standing there?" Lysander looked at her, his eyes cold as ice. "Don't come to my office again without my permission."

Navier said nothing. She silently gathered the blood-stained documents from the floor and turned to leave.

Her hand was still bleeding, but she couldn't feel the pain.

As she reached the doorway, she heard Lysander making another call.

His voice remained detached but carried an undercurrent of urgency. "Have you found anyone who looks like Ophelia yet?"

The person on the other end said something, and Lysander's voice betrayed a hint of barely suppressed anguish.

“Keep searching! It’s been years! Why the hell can’t I find someone—anyone—who looks like her? This… this isn’t fair.”

Navier paused mid-step, her heart twisting with a bitter ache.

She looked down at her bloodied palm and the corner of her mouth curved into a sorrowful smile.

"Lysander, you still can’t make it? Well, I did. Don't worry, I'll train her perfectly, and then I'll personally deliver her to your side."

Navier took a Uber to her private estates, Lakeside Villa.

As the car sped through busy streets, the scenery blurred past the window while her mind drifted to the past.

She and Lysander had grown up together—childhood friends. And she had loved him for a decade.

But his heart had never belonged to her.