The Professional Substitute

My name is Anna Scott, and I'm a professional substitute. Right now, I'm standing in Calvin Luke's living room, wearing an off-white silk dress. This dress isn't mine—it's the style that Calvin's first love, Mary, loved best. The door was pushed open while I was looking down, straightening my skirt. Before I could turn around, I heard a voice break through, trembling with tears. "Calvin, I've only been gone three years, and you've already found someone to replace me?" I turned around and saw Mary standing in the hallway, her eyes bloodshot, clutching an old suitcase—clearly just back from abroad. Her gaze landed on me, sharp and biting: "You even had her wear my dress. You said you would only ever love me—was it all a lie?" I didn't panic; instead, I breathed a sigh of relief. No wonder Calvin Luke's beloved has such sharp eyes—she saw right through me at a glance. Before I even had a chance to introduce myself, Mary's emotions flared up even more. She stepped forward and grabbed Calvin Luke's arm, her voice trembling, "If I hadn't suddenly come back today, would you have kept her here forever, as my substitute?" "Now that I'm back, who do you choose—me or her?" I took a sharp breath. There's a strict rule in this professional substitute business: never get involved in the employer's feelings, and never think about replacement. Mary's words shoved me straight into the 'off-limits' zone—if this got out, not only would my peers despise me, but I'd also be blacklisted by the industry. I quickly stepped forward and pulled out the folder I always carry. "Ms. Scott, you've got the wrong idea." "I'm a substitute hired by Mr. Luke. We signed a formal work contract. It's just a job." I paused for a moment, then added, "Mr. Luke contacted me because he misses you deeply. I'm just a 'tool,' not a threat to you." Calvin Luke was still caught up in the joy of Mary's return, his voice trembling with excitement. "Yes, Anna won't replace you." Tears suddenly spilled down Mary's face. She pointed at me, her voice trembling. "Do you take me for a fool?" "Her eyebrows and eyes look so much like mine, even the tear mole by the corner of her eye is in exactly the same place, and she's wearing my dress..." She said, breaking down completely: "In your heart, she's already taken my place—you just never realized it!" I sighed, pulled the labor contract from the folder, and set it in front of Mary. "Ms. Scott, this is the agreement I signed with Mr. Luke. It has the official seal and both our signatures." "If you don't believe me, you can get it verified. I'm truly working legally, with no hidden intentions." But Mary swept the contract aside and screamed, clutching her head: "I don't believe it!" "You must be having family troubles, like your grandmother seriously ill with no money for treatment, so you worked as a bar girl at a club and just happened to run into the drunk Calvin!" "You're doing this on purpose, using our resemblance to slowly steal my place! Isn't this how it always goes?" I was stunned. My grandmother passed away five years ago. When did she "come back to life" and get seriously ill? I've never even been to a nightclub in my life. Her made-up story is more ridiculous than any soap opera I've ever seen. No choice, I could only prove it with action. I turned and walked into the bathroom, took off the off-white dress I was wearing, and wiped off the makeup on my face with a cotton pad— to play the substitute well, I had deliberately learned Mary's imitation makeup, even using an eyebrow pencil to draw the light brown tear mole at the corner of her right eye, stroke by stroke. Ten minutes later, I stepped out wearing my own T-shirt and jeans, my face bare and fresh. I walked up to Mary and shrugged. "Ms. Scott, look, I don't actually look anything like you." "This was just for work, to give Mr. Luke a 'fully immersive experience.'" That wasn't a lie—when I first appeared as 'Mary' in front of Calvin Luke, he immediately doubled my salary. Mary stared at me for a long moment, biting her lip, then suddenly turned to Calvin Luke with a tone full of hurt. "I don't care. If you want me to stay, make her leave now!" "This family has her without me, or me without her—choose one!" Calvin Luke frowned, looking at me with a flicker of hesitation. But I could see he was already siding with Mary—just too polite, under this so-called 'humanitarian' pretense, to kick me out outright. I understood immediately and quickly flipped the contract to the 'Termination Clause' page, pushing it toward Calvin Luke.