LOGINOn my wedding day, my twin sister refused to take off my dress. "The groom's car is almost here, Isabella. Give it back." But my father was already smoothing her skirt. "Let her have it. You're twins—no one can tell you apart." My mother pinned her veil and tossed me the bridesmaid dress. "It's just a ceremony, Camilla. You're still the one getting married." Just like always. Whatever Isabella wanted, I wasn't allowed to fight for. The last chicken wing. The only scholarship. Now my own wedding dress. I reached for my phone to call Luca. Isabella snatched it from my hand. "Let's play a game. We swap places—no one tells. I want you to see, with your own eyes, who Luca really loves." I almost said no. Then I saw it. A bump in the lace, right over the heart. I pulled back the silk and read a word stitched in pale gold thread. Tesoro. The name he whispered to her a hundred times. The name he had never once said to me. My wedding dress had never been meant for me. So I unclasped the diamond necklace he gave me and set it down. "Then she can have the audience too." I slipped into the burgundy bridesmaid dress and watched my sister walk down the aisle wearing my name and my life. Then Luca pressed a key into my palm and whispered, "Come to the penthouse tonight, Tesoro." He had no idea he was confessing to the wrong sister.
View MoreI left the city that same night and didn't look back.I drove for hours until I reached a small coastal town I'd only ever seen in photos. The kind of place where no one knew my name or cared about my family or asked questions I didn't want to answer.I rented a tiny apartment above a bookstore and started over.For the first time in my life, I woke up without the weight of someone else's expectations pressing down on my chest.I painted because I wanted to, not because I was trying to prove something, and I took long walks by the water without checking my phone every five minutes.It was quiet, and peaceful.Six months later, I opened a small art gallery near the harbor. It wasn't much—just a renovated warehouse with whitewashed walls and secondhand furniture—but it was mine.That's where I met Marco.He came in one afternoon looking for a gift for his sister and ended up staying for two hours, asking about every piece on the wall. He didn't know anything about art, but he listened li
They didn't realize I was gone until three days later.Isabella came home from the hospital on a Wednesday afternoon, and the house felt quieter than usual, but no one seemed to notice why.My mother helped Isabella settle back into her room, and when she came out, she walked down the hallway and stopped in front of my door.She knocked hard."Camilla, get out here. You've been ignoring my calls for three days. Come out and apologize to your sister."She waited, but there was no answer.She knocked again, louder this time."Camilla!"Still nothing.She called for my father, and he came upstairs, saw the closed door, and didn't hesitate. He put his shoulder into it and shoved it open.The room was dark.My mother stepped inside and looked around slowly. The bed was small—barely big enough for one person—and the frame was old and scratched, something they'd pulled out of storage years ago. There was no proper closet, just a narrow metal rack shoved against the wall, and the only window w
Luca didn't say another word. He just turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him."Your mother was right. Isabella knows how to make a man feel wanted. You never did."The words hit me like an arrow straight to the chest. The people closest to you always know exactly where to aim when they want to hurt you.When I arrived back at the estate, the lights were off and no one was home.I checked my phone. The family group chat had exploded with messages. My mother's name appeared over and over. Then my father's. Then my aunts and uncles.All of them blaming me for what happened.I turned off notifications and shoved the phone back in my pocket.I walked upstairs to my room and opened the closet.There wasn't much to pack.Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from Isabella. When she turned sixteen, our parents bought her an entire new wardrobe from Paris. She got custom dresses, tailored coats and jewelry.A week later, my mother brought Isabella's old wardrobe into my room and to
The hall was in complete chaos. Guests stood in confused clusters, whispering and staring. No one seemed able to explain what had just happened.Luca stood near the altar, his eyes red and wide. He looked between me on the floor and the door where they had just carried Isabella out. His face was pale and confused, but also guilty.Last New Year's Eve, I had asked him a question."If Isabella and I switched places, would you be able to tell?"He had laughed and pulled me closer."Of course I would. You're mine, Camilla. I'd know you anywhere."Because we were twins, everyone assumed Isabella and I were exactly the same. Even our parents had mixed us up when we were children.But I had a small scar on my collarbone. A thin white line from the night of the attack when I was seven. Isabella didn't have it.I thought Luca knew about it. I thought he had noticed.The paramedics arrived quickly. My mother and father rushed Isabella into the back of the ambulance without looking back at me onc






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