CHAPTER 1.

Grace’s POV.

I had just dropped Sarah, my adoptive mother at the hospital for her routine check-up. She waved at me as she disappeared through the sliding doors, smiling even though I could tell she was nervous about the appointment.

I let out a quiet breath, fastening my seatbelt as thoughts of Ryan filled my mind. After two long months abroad, he was finally home, and I could hardly wait to see him again.

I wanted to tell him everything—the discoveries about my biological family, finding out I had a twin sister, and the way my life had suddenly changed in the past few weeks.

A soft flutter of excitement filled me, my thoughts already drifting toward sharing everything with him.

The phone rang, slicing through the quiet hum of the car. My heart lifted, thinking it was Ryan, but the screen showed Mr. Reed—my biological father.

I answered quickly, voice trembling with anticipation. I thought he was calling about Isabella finally returning for her wedding, but the voice that met me was frantic, heavy with grief.

“Grace, Isabella has been in an accident,” he said, and for a heartbeat, everything stopped.

“What do you mean?” The words stumbled out of me, thin and shaking.

“She was fine last night. She was laughing, she was talking about her wedding—how can she be in the hospital? She’s supposed to be walking down the aisle this weekend!”

“She’s in critical condition,” he said, and I heard his voice break. “The doctors don’t know yet if she’ll make it. You need to come right away.”

And then the line went dead.

I stared at the phone, willing the words to change, to mean anything but what I’d just heard.

A cold numbness spread through me, locking my breath and freezing every thought.

Isabella, my twin. The sister I had only just found, the voice I had only just learned to recognize, was now struggling between life and death.

Last night she’d been laughing at my jokes, bubbling with plans for her wedding. And now this.

My throat closed. This couldn’t be real—not now, not after everything.

My hands shook so badly that I dropped the keys twice before getting them into the ignition. The engine finally started, and I pulled onto the road.

The drive to the house was a blur, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Every red light felt like an eternity, every delay a cruel twist of fate.

Finally, I pulled up to the house, heart pounding.

I stepped inside, breath held tight in my lungs.

The silence was heavier than anything outside.

My biological mother sat in the living room, her eyes red and swollen, her hands twisting the hem of her dress so tightly the fabric was wrinkled beyond repair.

My father slumped in a chair across from her, the phone still clutched in his hand. His face was gray, hollow, like life itself had drained out of him.

I didn’t stop to think. “Where is she?” I burst out, my voice cracking. “I need to see her—take me to her.”

My mother stood so quickly she almost stumbled into me. She clutched my arms, her grip trembling.

“Grace, you can’t,” she said, voice breaking.

“She’s still in emergency care. They won’t let us see her.”

The words hit me like a wall, locking my feet to the marble floor. “This weekend is her wedding,” I whispered, as if saying it aloud could undo this calamity. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

The despair for Isabella faded slightly, replaced by a cold wave of worry for the man waiting for her.

“How is her groom handling this? Has he at least been allowed to see her?” I asked, voice cracking again.

My father cut in, tone flat, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor. “He doesn’t know yet.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean he doesn’t know? No one has told him? He should be by her side!”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as though bracing himself. “We can’t tell him. If he finds out the truth, he’ll walk away, and we’ll be ruined.”

“Ruined?” The word scraped out of me. “What are you talking about? Your daughter is fighting for her life!”

“The marriage isn’t just a wedding, Grace,” my father said, finally looking up. His gaze was cold.

“Sebastian, Isabella’s groom, agreed to invest in the company only if he married into our family,” my father explained. “If the marriage doesn’t take place and he walks away, everything collapses—the company, the reputation, all of it.”

The air rushed out of me. His words didn’t sound real—they belonged to a world built on greed and desperation, not family.

“Then what happens tomorrow when Isabella doesn’t show up? Since you can’t tell him, what’s your plan?”

My mother’s voice came as a whisper, trembling like her hands. “We have to… we have no other choice.”

Then my mother reached for me. Her fingers were shaking as much as her voice.

“Grace,” she whispered, tears streaking her cheeks, “you and Isabella are identical, and no one knows you exist. Help us—take her place in the marriage.”

I stepped back, breath catching, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe as the weight of my mother’s words crashed over me.

I laughed, but it was hollow, nervous. “This has to be a joke. You’re serious?”

Her eyes were steady but desperate. “We can’t let this fall apart, Grace. Everything depends on that wedding.”

I felt my stomach drop. “I can’t. I have my own life—my own future. I’m engaged to Ryan; we’re getting married soon. This isn’t my responsibility. You’ll have to find another way.”

My father’s tone was unyielding. “Grace. The company depends on it. We risk losing everything, even facing legal consequences. This is the only way.”

“I can’t,” I whispered again, more firmly, and without another word, I turned and left, feeling the air heavy around me.

I needed to see Ryan—to hold onto something steady, something that still made sense.

I got into my car, hands trembling slightly on the wheel, and drove toward the restaurant he had texted me earlier.

When I arrived, Ryan was waiting at our table. For a moment, relief washed over me. He stood as I approached, his smile a brief anchor.

“Grace,” he said warmly. “You made it.”

“I did,” I managed, trying to steady my voice.

“There’s so much I need to tell you.”

Before I could continue, the restaurant door burst open. A woman’s heels struck the floor in furious rhythm as she stormed toward Ryan, slamming her purse beside him.

“You!” she shouted, voice trembling with fury.

“How dare you! You’ve been involved with my husband behind my back!”

I froze, pulse thundering in my ears. Husband? The word spun in my head as everything around me tilted out of focus.