Ch-3

•~•Aziel’s POV

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Two Weeks Ago

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The familiar scent of antiseptic filled the air as I wheeled myself into the hospital ward. I had been here more times than I could count, and yet each visit felt like a fresh wound, reopening all over again.

My mother was there as usual, sitting beside the hospital bed, her hand gently brushing through his hair—The real Nathaniel Grant, my identical twin brother.

He lay beneath the crisp white sheets, an oxygen mask over his face and a few wires attached to his body, keeping him connected to the world.

She stared lovingly at him as if he was the only thing that mattered, her touch gentle, full of care, like she was afraid to disturb his fragile peace.

It was a tenderness I had never known, not once in my life, and a bitter ache grew in my chest, but I pushed it back.

“How is he?” I asked, my voice colder than I meant it to be.

My mother didn’t look at me. "The same as yesterday. The same as he’s been for the last five years." Her voice was as cold as always. She only ever reserved warmth for one son, and it wasn’t me.

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken resentment.

"You called me here," I finally said.

She gestured to the small table beside Nathaniel’s bed, where a brown file was placed.

I wheeled closer, my fingers brushing the edge of the file before I flipped it open. 

Photos spilled out—images of a young woman. A woman who looked strikingly familiar, though I couldn’t place her where I had seen her before.

I frowned, my mind racing as I tried to remember. Then it clicked—about a month ago at one of the strip clubs I often visited.

"Who is she?" I muttered, my eyes scanning the photos, a growing sense of unease creeping up from the depth of my stomach.

"Solane Blackwood," my mother said, finally turning to face me. "Zane Lancaster’s niece."

I stiffened.

Zane Lancaster. Just hearing the name was enough to silence a room. A man who built an empire from the ground up, using scraps left behind by his grandfather.

His wealth was so immense that if a gold digger managed to worm their way in, they’d leave with more than what most other wealthy families could ever dream of having—and Zane wouldn’t even notice the loss.

And now, this girl—his niece, Solane Blackwood—was standing at the center of whatever dangerous game my mother was playing.

I exhaled, slowly shutting the file. "What about her?"

"Zane wants her married before the year ends," my mother replied smoothly. "And I managed to secure her for our family."

I could feel my jaw tighten, the pieces already falling into place, but I forced myself to ask, "And?" My voice barely held my composure.

"You’re going to marry her," my mother said without hesitation. "...In Nathaniel’s name..."

My fingers clenched around the file.

"I thought all of this—marrying someone under Nathaniel’s name—ended with Shoshana Bates."

My mother’s face hardened in a flash, her anger flaring. "Ended?! Your wedding to Shoshana Bates wouldn’t have been canceled if you hadn’t gotten yourself attacked by those thugs and ended up stuck in a wheelchair…”

“...You ruined my plans with the Bates, and now you’re questioning this new one?!"

I clenched my jaw, the words bitter on my tongue. "You talk as if I intentionally got myself crippled."

She scoffed, her eyes turning cold. "What happened to you might not have been your fault," she said, her tone sharp as a knife, "but what happened to Nathaniel five years ago? The reason he’s been lying here in a coma all this time…it’s all on you."

The guilt had always been there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but hearing her say it out loud twisted something deep inside me, making it feel real, sharp.

"If you hadn’t gotten involved with that girl—"

"Irene. She has a name." I cut her off, my voice sharp.

Her eyes flashed—anger, definitely, but there was something else too, a hint of something darker.

"Nathaniel never loved her," I continued, lowering my voice. "He was playing her. She was naive and a virgin, unlike the other girls he messed around with. He wanted to keep her close, even though he was engaged to Shoshana Bates, and still—"

"That didn’t mean you had the right to covet her and try to steal her for yourself," she snapped, cutting me off mid-sentence.

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Covet and try to steal her? Your precious son was the one who begged me to switch places with him, just so he could run off with other girls and his fiancée while I kept her company."

I shook my head, a dry laugh slipping past my lips. "How is it my fault that I ended up falling for her?”

Her nostrils flared, and her face twisted in disgust. "Enough!" she hissed. "I don’t want to hear about that girl anymore."

Her features smoothed into something emotionless as she glanced at Nathaniel’s unconscious form, her voice flat. "...She’s part of the reason he’s lying in this hospital bed.”

I scoffed. "Of course. It’s never Nathaniel’s fault. Nothing is ever his fault." My fingers dug into the handles of my wheelchair, the tension in my body growing with each word, while a rush of frustration coiled in my chest, tightening. For the first time in five years, I struggled to keep it all in check.

"I’ve spent my entire life living in Nathaniel’s shadow…” The bitterness was sharp on my tongue.

“...And the last five years pretending to be him—just the spare twin in your twisted little game—and I still don’t get a say in any of this!" My voice cracked on the last word, heavy with years of pent-up resentment.

I paused, trying to steady my breathing. "I can't even remember the last time someone called me by my actual name."

My voice was quieter now, tinged with an ache I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time—the ache of being forgotten gnawing at me.

"Aziel... There it is. I just said your name." Her voice was cold and dismissive, as if it meant nothing more than a fleeting formality.

“No…I don't want to hear it from you.”

“Then from who?” Her tone was almost mocking, as if daring me to mention someone else.

I couldn’t answer. Not because I didn’t have someone in mind, but because deep down, I knew it wouldn’t matter. My mother didn’t care. She never had.

I had spent so long trying to be seen, to matter in her eyes—but it was always futile. No matter how hard I tried, I was just a shadow compared to Nathaniel, always overlooked by her. She never truly saw me.

She started to speak again, her voice quieter this time, but there was no softness in it. “This isn’t something you can just choose to do or not do. So for once, stop being so self-centered and do something for this family!” 

Silence descended over the ward like a heavy fog, stretching on for what felt like an eternity before she finally broke it.

"We’re running low on funds, and somehow the investors found out I’ve been pulling money from the company…” Her words were clipped, and laced with the pressure of a sinking ship.

"…Fortunately, they haven’t figured out it’s been going toward your brother’s treatment, but they’re digging, and it’s only a matter of time before they find out—and probably also that it’s not you lying here."

She paused, her eyes narrowing as the reality of it all settled in. "If we don’t do something—" 

“...Marrying Solane Blackwood in Nathaniel’s name is the only option?” I interrupted, already knowing where her words were headed.

She lifted her chin, her gaze hardening. "It’s the only way to save this family. And the only way I can forgive you for what happened to Nathaniel."

Her voice dropped even lower, "It’s the only way you can atone for your sins."

"And don’t worry about the girl," she added, her tone dismissive. "She’s too naive to realize you’re just a copy."

‘Just a copy’—Her words burrowed into me like a dagger, twisting and cutting deeper than I cared to admit, but I stayed silent and simply wheeled myself out of the ward, my hands gripping the wheelchair’s handles so tight my knuckles turned white.

The long white halls blurred as I moved past them, and I didn’t stop until I was outside, the hospital doors closing softly behind me.

The cool night air hit me, but it couldn’t cool the fire building in my chest. I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head, but the weight of the situation only grew heavier.

My thoughts scattered in every direction, but one burned brighter than the rest—why did Zane Lancaster agree to give his niece to a man in a wheelchair?

The same me that the Bates family and every other elite family had refused to marry their daughters to.

Just then, my phone buzzed—A text message.

I glanced at the screen and frowned at the familiar number.

It was the same one that had called me five years ago after Nathaniel’s accident. The same one that had sent me that video.

Over the last five years, I had tried to trace the source, but I had never gotten any closer.

My stomach lurched as I clicked on the message, dreading what it might say this time.

“She’s alive. Solane Blackwood is Irene Lancaster…”