Pregnant With My Twin Sister’s Fiancé’s Baby

I should have said no. But I never could—not to Sienna.

The blue light of my monitors flickered against the darkened walls of my apartment. It was 2:00 AM, and my eyes felt like they were filled with sand. On the screen, lines of C++ code cascaded in a rhythmic waterfall, the heartbeat of my latest project.

Just one more bug fix, I told myself. One more patch, and the rendering engine will be stable.

My phone buzzed against the desk, the vibration rattling a half-empty can of energy drink.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again. Then a third time. A relentless, demanding rhythm I knew too well.

With a sigh that rattled in my chest, I picked it up. The screen blinded me for a second before my eyes adjusted to the notification that had just lit up half the internet.

@SiennaStoneOfficial: I said YES!  #FutureMrsCross #Love #Soulmates #BillionaireWife

I stared at the photo.

There she was. My twin sister, Sienna. Her skin was airbrushed to porcelain perfection, her blonde hair—the same shade as mine, though hers cost a fortune in salon treatments while mine was tied in a messy bun—cascaded over her shoulders.

And on her finger? A diamond the size of a glacé cherry.

My stomach gave a violent lurch. It wasn't jealousy. Not exactly. I didn't want Marcus Cross. I didn't even know Marcus Cross, other than what the tabloids said about the CFO of NeXus Gaming Studios.

It was just... the inequality of it all. The sheer, crushing weight of being the "other" Stone sister.

The one who didn't matter.

I looked back at my monitors. The cursor blinked at me, mocking.

You’re a genius, my professors used to say. You’re going to change the industry.

I was twenty-six years old. I was a Lead Game Designer, a talented programmer, and tonight, I was sitting alone in the dark while my sister celebrated becoming the future wife of a tech mogul.

My thumb hovered over the I*******m post.

437 Comments.

“OMG Congrats Sienna!”

Her followers—over 500,000 of them—were losing their minds. She documented her "perfect life" for them daily, feeding the beast of validation.

I minimized the app and opened LinkedIn.

Earlier today, I had won the Gold Award at the International Indie Dev Showcase. My passion project, Ethereal Dreams, a game I’d poured my soul into for two years after rejecting my family's traditional business path, had taken the top prize.

It was the proudest moment of my life.

I clicked on my notification bell.

23 Notifications.

Mostly generic "Congratulations" from former classmates and a few recruiters.

Zero from Mom.

The silence from my family was deafening. They were estranged from me, disappointed that I chose "playing video games" over the family dynasty. To them, Sienna was the success story. She was the influencer, the brand ambassador, the socialite. I was just Aria. The geeky, sophisticated, but guarded disappointment.

Why does it still hurt? I asked myself, rubbing my temples. You know who they are. You know who she is.

I was independent. I was creative. I had skills they couldn't even comprehend.

But looking at that diamond ring, I felt smaller than a single pixel on a 4K screen.

My phone rang. The picture ID flashed: SIENNA 

I debated letting it go to voicemail. I really did. I looked at the complex variable I was trying to define in my code. If I lost my train of thought now, it would take me an hour to get it back.

But the conditioning ran deep.

"Hello?" I answered, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear so I could keep typing.

"Aria! Did you see my post?"

Sienna’s voice was a sugar-coated frequency that set my teeth on edge. It was the voice she used when she wanted something.

"I did," I said, my fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard. Clack-clack-clack. "Congratulations, Sienna. The ring is... substantial."

"Isn't it?" She squealed. "Marcus has such good taste. He’s the CFO of NeXus Gaming, you know. You work with games, right? Maybe you've heard of it?"

My fingers froze over the keys.

Maybe I've heard of it?

NeXus Gaming Studios was the titan of the industry. They were the reason I got into coding at twelve years old. Their engine was the standard. Their CEO was a god among programmers.

"Yeah, Sienna," I said dryly, correcting a syntax error on line 402. "I know NeXus. Everyone knows NeXus."

"Well, good! Because that means you’ll have plenty to talk about at the engagement party."

I closed my eyes. "Sienna, I can't. I have a deadline for the patch rollout on Monday. We're in crunch time."

"Aria," her voice dropped an octave. The sweetness evaporated, replaced by the cold manipulation I knew so well. "Don't be like this. Mom and Dad are already asking why you haven't posted a congratulatory story yet."

The guilt trip. A classic weapon in the Stone family arsenal.

"I've been working," I said defensively.

"It’s next Saturday. At the masquerade hall downtown. You have to come. You're my twin. It would look weird if you weren't there."

It would look weird for her brand, she meant.

"I don't have anything to wear to a masquerade ball, Sienna."

"I already sent a dress. It’ll be there tomorrow. And a mask. Just... try to look presentable? Please? For me?"

She paused, then added the kicker.

"Marcus's business partner will be there. Noah West? Marcus says he's a total genius. Dropped out of MIT to build the startup? He's a billionaire now. Featured in Forbes 30 Under 30. Since you’re so into... computers and stuff, I thought you’d want to meet him."

My heart skipped a beat.

Noah West.

The CEO of NeXus. The man who wrote the kernel code for the Titan engine when he was nineteen. He was intense, driven, and notoriously private. I’d studied his code like other women studied scripture.

"Noah West is going to be there?" I asked, my voice betraying my geeky side.

"Yes! He's Marcus's best friend. So, you'll come?"

I looked at my code. I looked at the empty apartment. I looked at the lonely LinkedIn notifications.

Maybe... maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Just one night.

"Fine," I whispered. "I'll be there."

"Perfect! Love you, sis!"

Click.

The silence rushed back in, heavier than before.

I sighed and picked up my phone again, opening I*******m. I needed to see him. Not Marcus.

I zoomed in on the photo Sienna had posted.

There was Marcus, smiling that perfect, practiced smile that wealthy men learned in boarding school. He looked polished, safe.

But behind him...

In the background, slightly out of focus, stood another man.

He was wearing a black suit that fit too well to be off the rack. His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he’d run his hands through it in frustration. He wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking at his phone, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.

Noah West.

Even in a blurry background photo, he radiated a kind of dark, magnetic power. He looked uncomfortable, out of place in the glitzy setting—socially awkward, perhaps?

I felt a strange pull in my chest. A recognition. Not of his face—I’d never met him—but of his energy. He looked like a man who would rather be coding than socializing. He looked like... me.

I traced the edge of his jawline on my screen with my thumb.

"Noah West," I murmured to the empty room.

I had no idea.

I didn't know then that the man in the background would change everything. I didn't know that his awkwardness masked a passion that would consume me.

I didn't know that in one week, I would be the woman in his bed, stripped of my mask and my defenses.

And I certainly didn't know that nine months later, I would be carrying his child, caught in a war between the sister who wanted everything and the billionaire who wanted me.

I tossed the phone onto the couch and turned back to my code.

"Chapter one," I whispered, typing a comment into my script.

But the real story was just beginning.