In the Game, Love Is a Curse Novel – In the third year of her marriage to Atticus Harrington, Lavinia Carter finally received some good news. She could finally leave him. “One more month. Your sister will be back. Until then, keep pretending to be her.” Her mother’s voice was as cold and detached as ever over the phone. “Once this is over, I’ll wire you ten million dollars.
That’s the price of three years pretending to be your sister. It’s more than fair.” “Got it,” Lavinia replied softly, her tone flat and lifeless, like still water. She hung up and looked up at the massive wedding portrait on the wall. In the photo, Atticus stood tall in a sharp black tuxedo, devastatingly handsome like a god carved from marble. She wore a couture wedding gown worth more than most people’s house, her smile gentle and serene. “Three years…” she whispered, tracing her finger along the edge of the frame. “It’s finally ending.” Three years ago, the arranged marriage between the Harringtons and the Carters made national headlines.
And it was her identical twin sister, Olivia Carter, who had been chosen to be the bride. But the night before the wedding, Olivia ran away, leaving only a handwritten note: [Mom, Dad, I can’t go through with this. I know it’s my duty, but I need to find my freedom first. Give me three years. I’ll be back.] To save the merger between the two families, her parents had no choice but to track down the daughter they’d abandoned in the countryside—the one no one ever talked about.
That’s how Lavinia Carter, the twin who had grown up in a foster home with no place at the Carter family table, found herself stepping into her sister’s life, name, and wedding dress. “Atticus doesn’t love your sister. He’s in love with that scholarship girl his family once sponsored,” her mother had warned coldly the night before the ceremony. “You’ll suffer in that marriage. But keep your head down, play Olivia’s role for three years, and we’re done.” Lavinia had simply nodded like a well-trained puppet.
Of course she knew who Atticus Harrington was. The golden boy of Brookhaven’s elite, a regular on the cover of Forbes, the most coveted bachelor in New York’s high society. And yes, she’d heard of Scarlett Abbott. The brilliant scholarship student Atticus’s family had funded. The one he’d fallen for so hard he was ready to give up his inheritance for her. But Scarlett, proud and principled, had walked away. She didn’t want a love no one approved of, so she left the country and disappeared. The Harringtons were overjoyed.
Within weeks, they had Atticus engaged to a suitable match: Olivia Carter. The marriage turned out to be even harder than Lavinia had imagined. Atticus’s study was filled with pictures of Scarlett. He flew to Paris every week just to catch a glimpse of her. And Lavinia—the stand-in wife—wasn’t even allowed in the master bedroom. She lived in a guest room at the end of the hallway. Still, she did everything she could to play her role. She was careful.
Obedient. Flawless. She waited up with the entryway lights on when he worked late. She woke at five every morning to make him stomach-friendly breakfasts. She made herself as invisible as possible, because he liked silence. Eventually, the whispers began. “Mrs. Harrington is so madly in love with her husband.” And Atticus… started to change. The photos of Scarlett disappeared from his study. The Paris trips stopped. He remembered Lavinia’s birthday. Came home early when she had a fever. And eventually… he shared her bed. For a while, Lavinia almost believed that maybe—just maybe—something real had grown from their fake marriage. Until three months ago, when Scarlett came back. Everything reverted overnight.
Atticus started disappearing again, staying out until dawn. Scarlett’s pictures returned to his study. People laughed behind Lavinia’s back, calling her a joke. But she didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Didn’t even flinch. Because Lavinia had never loved Atticus. She stayed for the money. For the freedom her parents promised. If he loved her, that would’ve made it easier. If not… she didn’t care. No one knew the truth about the Carter twins. When Lavinia was born, her mother nearly died. Ever since then, she looked at Lavinia like she was a curse. Her father, always so doting to his wife, treated Lavinia like a walking omen. At five, they sent her away to a foster family in Hollow Creek, a forgotten town in Missouri. She still remembered that one brutal winter—the heater broke, she shivered all night without a coat. Meanwhile, Olivia was twirling around the fireplace in a cashmere dress, loved and adored like a princess.
Eighteen years of being treated like a shadow had wiped out whatever dreams Lavinia had of familial affection. And now, with just thirty days left, she’d get her payout for three years of pretending—and walk away from this city for good. Just as that thought settled, her phone buzzed. Atticus Harrington. She inhaled slowly, then answered. “Hello?” “Bring some overnight tampons to The Velvet Club. Be here in twenty minutes.” His voice was icy as ever. He hung up before she could respond. Lavinia stared at the screen. She knew exactly who they were for. Atticus remembered Scarlett’s cycle better than the company’s IPO date. It was pouring outside. The drive from the estate to the club usually took at least forty minutes. Still, Lavinia grabbed an umbrella and left. Halfway there, traffic froze. Twelve minutes left. She glanced at the time, then shoved the door open and ran into the rain. Her heels skidded on the slick asphalt, water soaking through her clothes in seconds. She fell hard, scraping her knee open, but she got up and kept running. She reached The Velvet Club just as the clock struck the twentieth minute. At the private suite’s door, just as she was about to knock, laughter rang out from inside. “Damn, Atticus, you really made your wife come out in this storm just to bring tampons? It’s like forty minutes from your place!” “Scarlett’s in pain,” Atticus replied calmly. “She’ll find a way.” “True. Everyone knows your wife’s head over heels for you. Three years, and she’s stuck around even though your heart belongs to someone else.” Someone chuckled. “But come on, seriously—three years of that kind of devotion, and you’ve never once fallen for her?” The room went silent.
Lavinia held her breath. Then Atticus said, after a pause, “No matter what happens… between Scarlett and her, I’ll always choose Scarlett.” The words hit like a slap. But Lavinia felt nothing. In fact, she was relieved. She waited until the laughter resumed, then knocked. When she entered, the room fell dead silent. “Holy shit. She actually made it.” “Why’s she drenched like that?” Atticus stood, frowning. “What the hell happened to you?” Lavinia handed him the dry package she’d shielded from the rain. “You gave me twenty minutes. I had to run the last few blocks to make it on time.” She didn’t mention the fall. Or that her knee throbbed like it was on fire. Atticus’s gaze flickered. He took off his blazer and wrapped it around her. “Wear this.” Then pointed at the tampons in her hand. “Take them to the ladies’ room.” She nodded and quietly walked down the hallway. At the door, a soft, delicate voice asked, “Who is it?” “Tampons.” There was a pause. Then the door cracked open. Lavinia handed over the box and left without a word. Back home, she took a hot shower. Her knee stung sharply, but she barely noticed. Lying in bed, knowing it would all be over soon, she felt an unexpected lightness. She was just starting to fall asleep when the bedroom door slammed open. Atticus stormed in and yanked her up by the wrist. “Get up.” “What are you—” She didn’t get to finish. He dragged her out of bed and toward the staircase. With a sudden shove, she fell. Her head slammed against the edge of the stairs, and she tumbled all the way down. Pain exploded everywhere. She lay at the foot of the stairs, blood warm on her forehead, vision swimming. “Why… are you doing this?” she asked, trying to lift herself up. Atticus stood at the top of the stairs, backlit by the chandelier, voice like steel. “Did you push Scarlett off the balcony?” “What…?” she looked up, dazed. “Don’t play dumb.” He started down the stairs, each step loud and deliberate. “You’ve been pretending to be so understanding, so gracious… just to get to this moment. You nearly killed her!” “I didn’t…” she whispered, shaking her head. The motion made her vision spin. Atticus crouched beside her and grabbed her chin roughly. “Did you really think I’d fall for you? Let me make this clear—we were an arrangement. A business marriage. Nothing more.” He leaned in close, each word a dagger: “Whatever love you’re hoping for from me… you’ll never get it.” Lavinia felt herself slipping into darkness—and yet, she almost laughed. Because the truth was… she never wanted his love to begin with.