The silence is louder than the truth.Adrian stands across from me, holding the DNA test results. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are unreadable. And I know, at this moment, nothing will ever be the same.āYouāre pregnant,ā he says flatly.I nod.āWith my child.āAnother nod.āAnd youāre not my wife.āI couldn't even answer.He tosses the envelope onto the glass table. It flutters like a dying leaf.Eliora is behind him, arms crossed, face triumphant. Sheās wearing her victory like perfume, strong enough to choke me.āYou lied to me,ā Adrian says.āI didnāt mean to..āāYou slept beside me. Ate with me. Kissed me. And all this time, you were her.āMy voice is barely a whisper. āI was just trying to protect everyone.āHe laughs once. Dry and bitter. āProtect? You pretended to be someone else and ended up carrying my child. Thatās not protection. Thatās manipulation.āEliora steps forward.āShe used me. Lied to you. Lied to me.āāStop,ā I murmur.āShe stole my marriage.āāYou gave it away.
I canāt breathe.The moment she said,āIām pregnantā,my world tilted.She was never supposed to be the one.I was the replacement, the backup plan, the shadow wearing her face. And yet here I am⦠living a life that doesnāt belong to me, falling in love with a man who was never mine, only to lose everything again because of one test. One line.āYouāre sure?ā I ask.Her voice is ice. āYes.āI stare at my reflection in the car window. Same hair. Same eyes. Same lips. But none of this belongs to me.She gives me a look like sheās already won.āIāll return before the end of the week.āāNo.āHer brows shoot up. āExcuse me?āI turned to her. āYou said I had until there was an heir. Well, Iām still carrying that part out.āāYou mean Iām carrying that part out,ā she snaps, placing a protective hand over her stomach.I sigh. āThen let me handle this for just a bit longer. Let me talk to Adrian. Ease it in.āāThereās no easing in, Eliana. You had your time. Itās my life. My husband. My child.āāA
Heās different.Less guarded. More present.Heās still Adrian,the man with a calendar tighter than a noose,but lately he lingers. At breakfast. On the balcony. In the hallway outside our bedroom, he wants to say something but doesnāt know how.Itās terrifying.And I hate that I love it.I should be thinking of my exit. The switch was never meant to last. But here I am, memorizing the way his eyes crease when he smiles, how his voice softens when he says my name.Except⦠itās not my name.Every moment I spend with him is a lie wrapped in something dangerously close to real.We have dinner together again. No staff. No distractions.I make chicken in white wine sauce. He helps wash the dishes.Heās relaxed. Curious. Watching me like Iām someone new, and in his eyes, I am.āYouāve changed,ā he says again.āI told you. Iām adapting.āāFeels more like awakening.āI laugh, but itās strained. āMaybe Iām just finally⦠seeing you.āThat quiets him.Later, in the bedroom, he sits beside me on th
Chapter ThreeHe was gone by the time I woke up.No note. No text. No explanation.Just silence and spaceāhis usual.It was supposed to make it easier for me. Fewer questions, fewer chances to mess up. But it only reminded me how alien this life felt, even though I was now wearing it like my own skin.I spent most of the morning studying her things. Her perfumes. Her journals. Her playlists. The way she curled her ārās in writing, how she signed her name with a little flick at the end. Every detail was important. I had to become her, not just look like her.The staff watched me like hawks. But I smiled, nodded, made polite small talk, and followed her routine to the letter.I couldnāt afford mistakes. Not when the stakes were this high.Iād already crossed the line.Now, I had to make sure no one noticed.At lunch, I ate in the sunroom.At 2:00 p.m., I called her best friend, Vanessa, like she used to do every Friday.At 4:00, I tried on dresses for the charity gala Adrian's mother wa
It started with three knocks on my door. Soft. Hesitant. But I knew it was her.I opened it without a word.Eliora stepped in like she hadnāt just married into one of the richest families in the country. Like she wasnāt supposed to be waking up beside her new husband in a mansion full of staff.She didnāt sit. She didnāt smile.āI need your help,ā she said.I closed the door behind her. My fingers twitched.āHelp with what?āShe turned to face me, and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the chipped polish on her nails, the nervous way she twisted her wedding ring.āI canāt have a child,ā she whispered.The words sucked the air out of the room.āWhat do you mean?āāIāve tried,ā she said. āWeāve been⦠doing it. Or pretending to. But it doesnāt matter. It wonāt work. My bodyās broken.āāEliā¦.!āāBecause of the abortions.āSilence.The room was still. My breath caught.She never talked about that. Not out loud. Not even to me.āI thought maybe it wouldnāt matter,ā she said, voice c
The walls of my fatherās study used to be lined with framed awards and magazine covers.Now, theyāre just dusty reminders of what used to be.He sits across from us, behind the desk that once ruled a business empire. His fingers tap the surface, steady and slow. Every tap is a countdown. And when it stops, the silence becomes unbearable.āIāve made the decision,ā he says.His voice is tired, but his tone is final.He doesnāt look at me.He looks at my sister.My twin.Eliora.āYouāll marry Adrian Donavan.āJust like that.Not a request. A command.Eliora doesnāt flinch. She crosses her legs, raises one brow, and says, āExcuse me?āāYou heard me.āāNo, I didnāt. I thought I heard you say youāre marrying me off to a man I donāt know, like itās 1823.āMy father sighs and stands. His suit is rumpled. He hasnāt shaved. This isnāt the man who once dined with prime ministers.āThis is the deal,ā he says. āDonavan invests fifty million into Vaughn Corp. In return, we merge families. Marriage.