chapter 2: THE BRUISING GRIP

~MAYA~

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.

“Who the hell are you?”

My lungs seized. Beneath the layers of the cathedral veil, my vision blurred with adrenaline. The grand church, packed with five hundred of the country's most powerful billionaires, politicians, and reporters, completely faded away. The only thing that existed was the terrifying reality of the monster looming over me.

Julian Vance knew.

He had known the exact millisecond his fingers clamped around my wrist.

I tried to pull my hand back, a desperate reflex to run, but his grip tightened until the bones in my wrist ground together. A silent warning that if I made a single scene, he would snap my arm right in front of the cameras.

"Julian," a trembling whisper hissed from behind us.

It was my mother, Evelyn. She was standing at the front pew, her face completely drained of color. She couldn't hear what Julian had whispered to me, but she could see the rigid tension in his shoulders. She could see that this wasn't the posture of a man about to marry his fiancée of ten years.

Julian didn't look at my mother. His pitch-black eyes remained locked on the heavy lace covering my face, burning through the fabric with a calculated rage.

The elderly priest, completely oblivious to the silent execution happening at the altar, cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. He opened the heavy leather Bible, his voice booming through the cathedral’s state-of-the-art sound system.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

Every word felt like a nail being driven into my coffin.

Julian slowly turned his head back toward the priest, but he didn't let go of my wrist. Instead, he forced my arm down to his side, his hand completely swallowing mine, squeezing my fingers until the diamond ring dug painfully into my skin. He was forcing me to stand perfectly still, playing his part for the flashing cameras of the media.

"If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together," the priest continued, his voice echoing off the high stone arches, "let them now speak, or else hereafter forever hold their peace."

Me! I wanted to scream. I have a cause! I'm the wrong twin! I'm an imposter!

But I couldn't form the words. If I spoke, the microphones would pick up my voice. The media broadcast was live to millions of households. If the Vance empire suffered a public relations disaster of that magnitude, Julian’s grandfather would liquidate my family’s remaining assets by sunset. My little brother, Williams, would be kicked out of his specialized medical facility before the night was over.

I had to endure it. For Williams, I had to take the vows.

"Julian Vance," the priest turned his stern gaze to the man beside me. "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

A suffocating silence descended upon the cathedral. The reporters in the front row leaned forward, their cameras clicking in rapid succession, waiting for the kingpin of the city to seal the merger of the century.

Julian paused. The silence stretched for three agonizing seconds. Four. Five.

My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I was certain he could hear it. Was he going to expose me right here? Was he going to call the security guards to drag me out in handcuffs for fraud?

Finally, Julian’s jaw tightened. He looked straight at the priest, his voice a deep.

"I do."

The crowd exhaled a collective sigh of relief, but my soul only sank deeper into despair. He wasn't stopping the wedding. He was willingly chaining himself to an imposter—which meant whatever punishment he had in store for me behind closed doors would be far worse than a public arrest.

The priest turned his eyes to me. "And do you, Ayra Lin, take this man..."

I didn't hear the rest of the vows. The blood was roaring in my ears. When the priest finally stopped speaking, waiting for my response, I swallowed the hard lump of terror in my throat. I pitched my voice slightly higher, desperate to mimic Ayra’s melodic, airy tone, muttering the words into the heavy lace of my veil.

"I... I do."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest smiled, closing his Bible. "You may now kiss the bride."

The crowd erupted into applause.

Julian stepped directly into my personal space, his frame completely blocking the view of the cameras behind him. He raised his hands, his bandaged fingers catching the edge of my heavy lace veil.

My breath hitched. This is it. The moment he lifts the veil, the entire front row will see my face. They will see the slight bruise on my cheekbone where my mother slapped me. They will see that I am Maya, the invisible twin.

Julian slowly began to lift the lace.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the collective gasp of the crowd. But instead of flipping the veil over my head, Julian stopped halfway. He kept the thick fabric hovering over my nose, exposing only my trembling, glossy lips to him, completely hidden from the audience by his broad shoulders.

He leaned down. His hot, mint-scented breath hit my mouth a second before his lips pressed against mine.

It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was an act of suffocating territorial dominance. He bit down slightly on my bottom lip, drawing a tiny gasp from my throat, before pulling away and dropping the veil back over my face.

"Smile for the cameras, fake little bride," Julian whispered against my ear, his grip sliding down from my wrist to lock securely around my waist, dragging me down the aisle toward the exit doors. "Because the moment we reach that limousine, you are going to tell me exactly what you did with my real wife."