Three Days to Erasure:My Stand-In Era is Over

Three days before the System wiped me out, I dropped a Reddit thread: Target capture failed. What do I do before the wipe? Trolls flooded the replies. Delete Wattpad off your phone.

Pay off your credit cards. Don't let the System tank your credit score. Everyone treated it like a joke. Until a single notification flashed: Let me guess.

Your target is some billionaire CEO named Hayes? Chapter 1 I had included a few vague details about my time with Hayes in the original post. Did someone recognize him?

My pulse spiked. But before I could panic, the replies to that comment spiraled into a massive joke. LMAO, brutal but true! Every CEO romance is massproduced garbage now.

Nine out of ten are named Hayes. It's a massive red flag. Bro, I read one where the MMC was Hayes, his dad was Hayes, even the other guy was Hayes. I can't. My chest loosened.

They were right. The "billionaire named Hayes" was a walking cliché. Even if my target was an actual CEO named Hayes, who would believe it wasn't just fiction?

A bitter laugh scraped my throat. Another notification pinged. User: Not_Hayes_Lapdog. —The exact same guy who just guessed his name. Why did you fail? He just wasn't into you?

My thumbs hovered over the screen. I typed out a reply. No. It was so much worse than that. Hayes and I had been together for three solid years.

I stayed by his side when he was nobody. I anchored him while he built his tech startup from the ground up. But the System’s affection meter?

It started at a massive 70% and bled out. Down to a pathetic 5%. When the System first dropped me into this world, that 70% starting stat felt like a glitch.

I almost laughed out loud. Reality played out exactly how I wanted. A few calculated "accidental" meetings. Some heavy flirting.

I slid right into the role of his girlfriend without a hitch. I thought the final 100% was guaranteed. But the longer we stayed together, the faster that number plummeted.

Like a punctured tire bleeding air on the highway. I racked my brain. Until I found the photo of Genevieve. The girl who got away. The same eyes. The same jawline.

We were a nearperfect physical match. Everything clicked. That initial 70% wasn't for me. It was because I looked like the girl who got away.

But a knockoff can never replace the original. The closer we got, the more my real self bled through. And the more he realized I wasn't her. Disappointment curdled into disgust.

Now, with exactly three days left on the clock, I was sitting at 5%. The real kicker? He couldn't even stomach the sight of me anymore, but yesterday, he proposed. Down on one knee.

Eyes wide and full of fake adoration. A masterclass in acting. But I knew the truth. I was just the bait to force Genevieve onto a flight back to the States.

Not_Hayes_Lapdog fired back: Does he know you're tied to the System? You should confront him before the wipe. What if there's a misunderstanding? A hollow ache settled in my ribs.

I typed: There's no point. 5% is worse than a stranger. I'm done gaslighting myself. Right then, my phone rang. It was actually Hayes.

I hesitated for a moment, but still answered. "What do you want for dinner? I'll cook when I get back." His voice was pure ice.

Ever since I rejected his ring yesterday, he had treated me like a hostile witness. Makes sense.

The second the news of his proposal leaked, Genevieve booked a redeye flight back home. Their grand reunion was locked in.

And my role as the stunt double was officially over. "Don't bother." I dragged my gaze to the packed suitcase sitting by the door. "Let's just make this a clean break. I'm leaving.

We're done." Three days left. I refused to waste my final hours breathing the same air as a man who didn't want me. Hayes went dead silent on the line.

A sharp intake of breath hissed through the speaker, like a confession trapped in his throat.

Chapter 2 A harsh scoff ripped through the receiver. "Suit yourself," he sneered. "Leave. Just don't come crying to me when you regret it.

I'll survive perfectly fine without you." He would survive. I literally wouldn't. My chest tightened, air refusing to fill my lungs.

I dragged my eyes over the penthouse one last time—three years of memories bleeding into the pristine walls—before I pulled the door shut behind me.

The crisp autumn wind bit through my jacket. I stood on the sidewalk and updated my Reddit thread: Wipe countdown: Day 3. I left my target.

Spending my final hours living for myself. The internet swarmed the update. Bro is fully committed to the bit. Give her an Emmy.

NGL, the way she writes this is lowkey stressing me out. OP, are you good? A new notification flashed. A DM from Not_Hayes_Lapdog. I'm a Host too. My mission failed as well.

Do you want to meet up? We shouldn't have to ride out the clock alone. My thumb froze over the screen. Another Host? I stared at his username.

He had already guessed my target was named Hayes. A sick realization coiled in my gut. Did the System assign two Hosts to the same guy?

Unable to resist my damn curiosity, I accepted his friend request. We agreed to meet at a local café that afternoon.

A tall guy in a crisp buttondown pushed back from a corner booth as I walked in. He had bright eyes and looked sunny and completely harmless.

I blinked. "Are you… Not_Hayes_Lapdog?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin breaking across his face.

He held out a hand. "Let's just go with Reid." "Tamsin." I shook his hand and slid into the booth across from him, my pulse drumming against my ribs. "So…" I started, needing to know. "Your username.

Is your target also a CEO named Hayes?" "Yeah." Reid let out a bitter laugh. "She's a nightmare to please. Clock is almost out, and I've got zero progress." She.

The tension draining from my shoulders felt like a physical weight lifting. "Guess the billionairenamedHayes trope really is inescapable," I joked. "For a second, I thought the System went rogue and assigned us the exact same target." The air between us settled. "Where's your progress bar sitting?" I asked.

Reid stiffened. A weird flicker crossed his eyes. "Progress bar?" "Yeah." I frowned. "You can't see it? It literally hovers right over their head when you look at them." "Oh.

That." Reid quickly smoothed his expression into casual realization. "Honestly, I think those things glitch out half the time." He leaned forward, tracking my face with an intensity that didn't match his relaxed tone. "Take your guy, for example.

You've been together for three years. He obviously cares about you.

What if your bar just stopped updating?" I shook my head, crushing the false hope before it could take root. "Impossible. I watched it move. It bled out from 70% down to 5%.

He doesn't care. He despises me." Chapter 3 Reid fell silent for a beat. "So what's the plan now?" "A bucket list, I guess." I pulled up my Notes app. "Hit a club.

Watch the sunrise. Eat entirely too many carbs." "Sounds like a solid lineup." A glint flashed in Reid's eyes. "Mind if I crash it? Misery loves company, right?

Might as well ride this out together." A small smile tugged at my mouth. "Sure." Hayes used to keep me on a tight leash. Clubs were strictly offlimits.

But with three days left before I vanished completely, I was done playing by his rules. The heavy bass rattled my ribs.

Reid and I sat at the bar, nursing our drinks while the crowd thrashed on the dance floor. He kept fishing for details about the System. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.

If he was a Host too, shouldn't he already know the mechanics? I opened my mouth to press him, but his gaze darted past my shoulder.

The color drained from his face. "Hey—I gotta hit the restroom.

Keep your tab open, don't go crazy without me." He bolted before I could blink, leaving his men's suit jacket draped over the barstool. I brushed it off and reached for my cocktail.

A sudden, icecold chill kissed the back of my neck. I turned slowly. Through the strobe lights and the crush of bodies, my eyes locked dead onto him.

Hayes stood three feet away, halfswallowed by the shadows. His black dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows, exposing the thick veins cording his forearms. Our eyes met.

My fingers locked in a death grip around the glass. Hovering right above his dark hair, the System's glowing neon digits had shifted. 30%. What the hell?

It was barely breathing at 5% two days ago. Before the math could compute in my brain, his stare dropped from my face to the empty stool beside me.

To the very obvious men's blazer slung over the leather. His jaw clamped shut.

His entire body locked up, the breath physically punched out of his lungs, and a dark, vicious storm brewed in his eyes. The number above his head flickered and spiked again. 40%.

I was completely stunned. I dumped him, moved out, and his affection meter skyrocketed? Make it make sense. A sickeningly sweet voice sliced through the tension. "Hayes?

I turned around and you were gone. What are you doing over here?" A woman slid into the space beside him, wrapping her perfectly manicured hands around his bicep.

Custom white slip dress. Flawless blowout. A smile that belonged on a billboard. One glance was all it took. Genevieve. The original.

She leaned into his chest, practically radiating ownership. "You said you were going to the bar to get me ginger tea for my hangover. I'm not a kid, you know.

I can handle a few drinks." My lungs seized. All the air sucked out of the room. A phantom burn seared the back of my throat.

Memories I’d tried to bury clawed their way up to the surface. Whenever I was sick, Hayes would sit on the edge of my bed. Face carved from stone.

Hands terrifyingly gentle as he tipped a mug of hot ginger tea against my lips. I thought it was his secret language. A quiet devotion just for me. Acid churned in my stomach.

He was never taking care of me. He was just running drills. Using my face to practice for the day she finally came back. The spike in the meter suddenly made terrifying sense.

He wasn't missing me. He was just high on the thrill of having his grand prize back. The surge of dopamine bled over, raising his baseline tolerance for everyone around him. And me?

I packed my bags and bowed out without a fight. I handed him the perfect, guiltfree reunion. That 40% was nothing but a tip left on the table.

A fivestar review for the understudy who knew exactly when to exit the stage. Bile rose in the back of my throat. Chapter 4 I pivoted on my heel.

I slung my purse over my shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?" Hayes's voice cut through the heavy bass. Pure ice.

Absolute authority. "Your trash still clutters the penthouse. When do you plan on clearing it out?" My boots stopped dead on the sticky floor.

A hollow laugh scraped against my ribs. Three days until the System deleted my existence.

Designer clothes meant nothing for my final destination. "I don't care," I said, refusing to even look at him. "Throw it all in a dumpster. Burn it.

Do whatever." Silence stretched between us. Then, a sweet, breathy giggle broke the tension. Genevieve tilted her head. Her eyes raked over my face.

Pure, unfiltered condescension. "Oh, I get it now. You're Tamsin, right?" she purred. "Wow. You really do look like a cheaper version of me." I waited for the rage.

I waited for the humiliation to burn my cheeks. Nothing came. Just a bonedeep, crushing exhaustion. It bled into my marrow, turning my limbs to lead.

I was officially done playing this twisted game. I turned and walked away. I never looked back.

Over the thumping music, Genevieve’s sickeningly sweet voice faded out. "Hayes, come on. Everyone is waiting for us…" [Something came up. Left early.

Don't wait up.] I hit send on the text to Reid. I wandered the city streets. No destination. Just putting distance between me and the neon lights.

I ended up in a deserted neighborhood park. The early autumn wind carried a hint of bleakness, rustling the sycamore leaves by the road. I felt freezing cold all over.

Mission failed. Erasure pending. The absolute uselessness of it all crushed my chest. I hunched over. My fingers reached for a dead, curled leaf on the path.

Before my skin could brush the stem, a pair of polished black oxfords stepped into my line of sight. My spine locked. I forced my chin up. Hayes.

He stood just outside the glow of the streetlamp. Shadows swallowed his expression. What the hell did he want here? His grand welcomehome party for his obsession awaited him.

I lacked the energy for round two. I straightened up and turned to leave. A hand clamped around my wrist. Hard. "Where is he?" Hayes practically snarled the words.

His jaw ticked violently. "Where's your new guy? He just ditched you out here in the freezing cold?" His jealous, accusatory tone snapped something ugly inside me.

Three years of swallowed pride. Three years of performing. It all detonated. "What right do you have?" I wrenched my arm out of his grip. My lungs burned.

My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my temples. "You get to parade your perfect, original girl around. Why the hell can't I move on?" His eyes widened.

A dangerous shift in his posture. I couldn't stop the flood. The dam broke. "Three years, Hayes. Three goddamn years. Do you have any idea what that did to me?

I ripped myself apart trying to fit into her mold. I became a ghost in my own relationship.

Every time you looked at me like I hung the moon, I thought your affection score would finally go up. I bought it. I believed it.

But everything served as a sick, twisted performance." My voice cracked. My hands shook so violently I had to ball them into fists. "What do I mean to you? A prop? A placeholder?

Just a convenient little standin you could toss in the trash the second she booked a flight?" Hayes flinched.

His pupils blew wide. "What are you talking about?" The venom vanished from his voice. "When did I ever…" He swallowed hard, his voice fracturing. "When did I ever string you along?" A bitter, jagged laugh ripped out of my throat. "Don't gaslight me.

We both know the truth. The act is over, Hayes. You can stop pretending." I shoved both hands against his chest. I barely used any force. Just a desperate push to clear my space.

But his legs gave out. The untouchable billionaire, the man who controlled everything, stumbled backward. He collapsed onto the freezing concrete. Chapter 5 But I looked down.

He was just sitting there, staring blankly at the concrete. Dirt and grime ruined the crisp cuffs of his shirt.

I stopped, pulled a pack of tissues from my pocket, and held it out to him. He reached for it. But his fingers bypassed the plastic.

His grip clamped around my wrist like a steel vice. The heat of his palm seared right through my skin.

A sharp yank sent me tumbling forward until I crashed hard against his solid chest. His free hand shot up, his rough fingers digging into my jawline.

He forced my face up to meet his.

Torment and fury clashed in his eyes. "You initiated the breakup," he ground out, the vocal fry vibrating against my collarbone. "You rejected the ring.

Fine, blame me for whatever you want, but why did you have to leave me?" The storm broke in his low, gravelly voice. "I let you walk out that door because I thought you just needed space to clear your head.

I waited for you to come back." His dark pupils dilated, swallowing his irises until his eyes looked completely black. "But if you're actually trying to disappear on me… don't blame me when I completely lose my goddamn mind." He surged to his feet, dragging me up with him.

He didn't let go. His arm hooked under my knees, hauling me flush against his chest.

He strode straight off the paved path, carrying me into the pitchblack shadows of the heavy oak trees. "Hayes! Are you insane? Put me down!" I thrashed in his hold.

My nails dug viciously into the bare skin at the nape of his neck. He didn't even flinch. The thick muscles in his neck corded tight under my scratches.

His boots crunched over the dead leaves without missing a single beat. "Let me go!" I screamed. "Never." He pinned me down on the grass.

His heavy knee wedged between my legs, pinning me in place. One massive hand swallowed both of my wrists, slamming them flat against the ground above my head.

His free hand unbuttoned my clothes first. The rough pads of his fingers traced the frantic pulse hammering in my neck.

He mapped the curve of my jaw, his thumb dragging over my lower lip. Pure, suffocating possession.

The freezing grass soaked through my clothes, a sharp contrast to the blistering heat of his skin. "Yeah.

Look at me," he commanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, feral growl. "Keep looking at me like that. Even if it's pure hatred. I don't care.

I am the only thing you are allowed to see." He tangled his fingers into the hair at the base of my skull and crashed his mouth over mine. It wasn't a kiss. It was an invasion.

His tongue parted my lips with punishing force, tasting of gin and desperation. He swallowed my gasps, stealing every ounce of oxygen from my burning lungs. I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't speak. But tears welled up uncontrollably. Shame, anger, grievance… all emotions burst the dam at that moment.

My mind snapped back to the suffocating silence of his penthouse bedroom. The damp sheets. The lingering heat of his skin against mine.

And then, looking up to see those glaring neon digits above his sleeping face. Dropping. Always dropping. The crushing weight of not being enough almost swallowed me whole.

Acid churned in my throat. Was I not loud enough? Did I not arch into his touch the right way? Did my skin feel too different from hers?

The toxic paranoia had infected my bloodstream. It turned every soft caress into a threat. Eventually, the sheer terror of his touch paralyzed me.

Because the physical vulnerability always ended the exact same way. Another piece of my soul ripped out. Another percentage point bleeding away in the dark.

And now, he devoured my mouth like he was starving. Like I was his entire goddamn world. But the phantom image of Genevieve hovered right between us.

The sick realization hit my veins like ice water. This savage hunger wasn't for me. The tears flowed faster, choking my airway. Hayes froze midkiss.

His lips brushed the wet, salty track running down my cheek. A sharp intake of breath hissed through his teeth. He ripped his mouth away, his head snapping back.

The predatory haze vanished from his eyes the second he registered my face. The sheer, empty deadness in my stare.

Raw, suffocating panic slammed into his features. "Fuck… Tamsin, I'm sorry." His massive hands began to shake violently.

His thumbs swiped frantically at my wet cheeks, smearing the tears. The words spilled out of his mouth in a broken rush. "I shouldn't have done that. Please stop crying.

I won't touch you. If you don't want this, I swear to God I won't touch you again." His voice cracked, shredding on the last syllable. "I'm sorry. I just lost it.

I'm just so terrified of losing you." He cradled my face like a child who had done something wrong, reduced to a begging, shattered mess.

I stared up at him through the blur of my own tears. I felt absolutely nothing. Chapter 6 Then, my eyes caught the neon digits glowing above his head— Forty percent at the club.

Barely an hour had passed. The number had hemorrhaged. Slashed in half. That familiar feeling of being repeatedly played by the progress bar overwhelmed me again.

He begged for my forgiveness, and his affection meter bled out. He swore he couldn't lose me, while the numbers screamed his absolute disgust. What the hell did he want from me?

Something hot and metallic crawled up the back of my throat. A wet, tearing cough ripped past my lips.

Hot, crimson blood splattered across his pristine white collar. "Tamsin!" Hayes cried out in alarm, holding my shoulders. "What's wrong? Why are you