What Have You Done With My Twin?

Alora's Pov

Lucien doesn’t sit. He circles his desk like a shark deciding if I'm worth the bite. Seeing my name, Alora, on that folder makes my stomach do a backflip.

“How long,” he repeats, “were you planning to play dress-up as your sister?”

“I wasn’t pretending,” I snap, my voice betraying me with a tiny quiver. “Leyla is busy so I filled in because we don’t have much time.”

"She was invited. You weren't.” He drifts to the window, looking over the city with his hands in his pockets. “But you didn’t correct the secretary. You didn't even blink when I caught you."

My pulse kicks hard as he turns back to me.

“George’s file answered a long-term question for me. Once I saw the family he came from, I knew you wouldn’t stay away.”

I have nothing to say. Everything I had planned in my head evaporates. He always has this way of crumbling me. His gaze settles on me.

“I was curious how long you’d manage before showing up.”

The room suddenly feels like it's shrinking.

"Why are you here, Lo?"

The sound of that name on his lips, the one he made mine back then, sends a chill down my spine.

"What's your game here?" he asks.

Bastard! That's my line.

I lift my chin and steady my breathing. "I’m looking out for my sister. I won’t let her walk into a marriage with a man like you."

He chuckles, stepping so close I can smell his cologne; the same scent that used to linger on my skin nine years ago. “A man like me? You used to be quite fond of 'a man like me' when we were teenagers.”

“Well, people change and we're all grown now.”

“Not the way you taste, I’d bet.” He leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “You want freedom for your brother. I need a bride. Besides, you never mentioned your twin was so... compliant. She might have been a better fit for my...”

"Don't you dare," I hiss, pushing him back. "You want a bride? Fine. Let’s talk business."

He opens the folder, letting the silence scream for a few seconds. “Your brother has a hearing tomorrow morning.”

My stomach drops. “Can it be postponed?”

“Maybe. I’m not the judge.” He shrugs like he was talking about the weather.

I scoff. “Oh, please. You are the judge, the jury, and the executioner in this town.”

“Even better,” he murmurs. “Closed hearing. No jury. It’s done.” He looks up, his eyes dark. “You shouldn't be here, Lo. Your sister has patience. You... you always did have a problem with waiting.” He let his gaze drop to my mouth. “Remember that night behind the Calder hall? You couldn't even wait for me to get your shirt off.”

Trust Lucien to weaponize my own memories against me. My throat tightens. “Fine. What do you want?”

“I was curious which one of you would walk through that door,” he says, snapping the folder shut.

“Leyla will endure. But you?" he tilts his head.

"You’ll fight. You always were more fun when you are fighting me.”

He leans over the desk, pinning me with his eyes. “I want you as my bride,” he murmurs. “If you’ll have me. Again.”

My anger flares. “You let me wait for two hours! Allowed your staff insult me!”

“Yes.”

“While you sat and watched the whole thing!”

“Yes.”

His honesty was more annoying than a lie would have been. “Why?”

“I had to see if the girl I knew still existed.” A slow smile follows. “Turns out, you’re meaner now. I like that.” He settles back, pointing to the chair across. “Sit.”

I do. He lays out the terms: Two years. Public marriage. Private discretion.

“And privately?” I ask.

“In private, we’ll continue where we stopped. No curfews this time.”

I keep my face like stone. “Define that.”

A moment passes.

His mouth curves. “You used to be more adventurous. Don't tell me you've turned boring. You’re cautious today.”

“Lucien...”

"Mr. Vale," he corrects.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Mr. Vale. Those terms don’t work for me.”

He stands and stops right beside my chair. He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel the heat. “This works because this has already been agreed on. You don't break agreements.”

I look up. “I’m thinking of breaking this one.”

“Careful.” He exhales, stepping back. “Fine. Tomorrow, you’ll attend a charity gala with me. Appearances matter. We sign after that.”

I stand and bolt for the door before he can say anything else. Just as I reach for the handle, he calls out.

“Seriously, ask Leyla how I like my woman. Ughh! She nails the little things better than you did.” He actually winks, like it's a challenge.

*****

My legs don’t stop shaking until I’m in a taxi. My destination? The Cresswell Club.

The bass hit before the door even opens. Sweat, cheap perfume, grinding bodies... it’s a sensory overload. This is Leyla’s world. I find her in the dressing room, carefully wiping off her lipstick.

“Hey, Lora. Pease tell me it went well,” she says, not looking at me.

“Did you sleep with him?” I ask, skipping the pleasantries.

She freezes. “Well... it... it helped George.”

"How many times?”

She drops the wipe. “He fixed a hearing for George tomorrow. And it's even better.”

“What other hearing? George already has one. He did nothing!” I close my eyes as fury surges through me.

“Tomorrow morning.” She keeps her eyes on the mirror. “This time, a closed hearing. No jury.”

“You slept with him for a hearing?” My voice rises with the music outside.

“I had to, Alora!” Leyla snaps, spinning around. Her eyes are red-rimmed, mascara streaked. “I did what I had to do. While you were wandering down memory lane with him, I was making sure George didn't wake up in a cage for the rest of his life.”

I sink into a chair before I even realize I've given in.

“He didn’t threaten me,” she says quietly, softer now. “I wanted to.”

I don’t interrupt. I just sit there, letting her words land.

“He asked questions. About us. Mostly about you.” Her mouth tightens. “Questions he already knew the answers to.”

My stomach twists. “What did he say about me?”

Leyla hesitates. I already know it’s bad.

“He said you wouldn’t wait. That you’d come yourself eventually. And if you did... he’d want you instead.”

My heart kicks once, hard. “And you?”

“I understand compromise,” she says, voice clipped. “It’s nothing.”

That word again. She doesn’t bother to dress it up. Nothing.

“Besides, he was careful with me,” she adds, her voice cracking. “He didn’t force himself on me.”

“That wasn't mercy,” I bark. “That was a down payment.”

Silence stretches between us, heavy and oppressive. The truth settles like lead in my chest.

“So this was his plan all along,” I say, the realization sharp like ice water in my veins. “He used you to get to me. He knew if he broke you, I’d come running to pick up the pieces.”

“Yes.” She swallows hard. “He knew you wouldn’t walk away. He wanted to see which one of us he’d get.”

“And you knew all of this?” My voice shakes despite my effort. “You knew... and you didn’t tell me?”

“Because you would’ve blown it,” she snaps back instantly. “You would’ve burned everything to the ground.”

She’s not wrong. I would have.

A beat, then quieter: “Do you hate me?”

“No, but I can’t stand you right now.”

I swallow. “No. But I can’t stand you right now.”

She exhales, like she’s been bracing for it. “I can live with that.”

I turn for the door, my hand already on the handle, when her voice stops me.

“Alora."

I look back.

“When you sign that contract, you’ll be the wife. You’ll wear the ring. Drive the cars. Sit at the tables. I won’t judge you for that. I won’t fight you on it.”

She pauses. In the mirror, our eyes meet, hers colder now, sharper.

“But don’t you dare judge me.” Her voice drops. “Because when he gets tired of your fighting and your pride… he’s going to come looking for the sister who didn’t say no.”

My chest tightens.

“I’ll always be his mistress,” she finishes, unflinching. “Live with it.”

My mouth falls open, staring at her. My heart shatters. This isn't the sister I grew up with. My twin, my other half, is gone. This is a stranger molded and hardened by Lucien Vale's cruelty.

Lucien doesn’t want a wife. He wants a trophy he can break and a backup he can use. And Leyla... just handed him both.

“You’re choosing him,” I whisper, barely daring to speak.

“No.” Her voice hardens into stone as she turns back to the mirror. “I’m choosing George. Now get out. You’ve got a gala to prepare for.”

I step back, swallowed by the club's noise and neon haze. The night presses in, relentless. Something between us has cracked, and for the first time in our lives, I don’t think it can be fixed.