SLAP "You think I’ll let Cassian take the fall ?" "He’s my son. You? You’re just a face I regret making"!!. Lucien was born with a secret. One even he didn’t understand. One his father always knew — and hated him for. While his twin, Cassian, lived a life of freedom, Lucien lived locked behind doors, punished for simply existing. He wasn’t allowed outside. He wasn’t allowed to live. He was hidden. Forgotten. Broken. Until one party changed everything. A mafia princess was hurt. Cassian was to blame. But their father made sure Lucien paid the price. That night, Lucien was handed over to Zayn Kingsley — A billionaire mafia heir. One of the Eight who rule the city from the shadows. He has two wives. A daughter. And a dying father whispering: “Give me a son. A true heir. Or lose everything.” Zayn doesn’t believe in weakness. He doesn’t believe in love. And he definitely doesn’t believe in men like Lucien. Zayn is cold. Ruthless. Homophobic. But what Zayn doesn’t know… Is that Lucien carries more than pain. He carries a secret that defies biology, logic, and everything Zayn thought he knew: 🩸 Lucien can bear an heir. And what started as punishment becomes obsession. What started as hate begins to burn into something forbidden… and terrifying. ---
View MoreChapter One: The Ghost Twin
The halls of the Ainsworth Estate were silent that morning, suffocating and grand. Sunlight bled through the stained-glass windows, scattering red and gold across the polished marble floor, but not even beauty could warm a house built on cruelty. Lucien sat alone at the long dining table, his back straight, his hands folded neatly in his lap. There was no breakfast before him, not even tea. He wasn’t allowed to eat until the others had finished. That was the rule. He was seventeen, slender, pale, with eyes the color of ash after a fire. His dark hair curled just slightly around his ears, uncombed this morning because the maid had forgotten him again. Or maybe she'd been told to. His twin brother, Cassian, had already eaten and gone. Lucien had heard him in the hallway earlier, laughing with their father. The same man who hadn’t spoken a kind word to Lucien in years. The silence in the room grew heavy, almost mocking. Footsteps. Lucien didn’t turn his head. He already knew who it was. "You’re still here?" The voice of Gerard Ainsworth sliced through the air, sharp and cold. Lucien stood quickly, lowering his gaze. "Good morning, Father." Gerard snorted, a sound of disgust. "You speak like you have a right to greet me." Lucien didn’t reply. He'd learned that saying nothing was safer. Gerard walked past him to the head of the table, glancing at the empty dishes. "Did you even clean the east wing this morning? Or were you too busy sulking in your room like a useless girl?" "I cleaned it," Lucien replied quietly. That earned him a slap across the face. Not hard enough to bruise, but sharp enough to sting. Lucien didn't flinch. "Don’t lie to me. I can smell your laziness. I should've sent you off to the seminary like I planned. At least then, I wouldn’t have to look at your pathetic face." He stood still, blinking away the sharp burn in his eyes. Not from the slap. From the words. "You should eat," Lucien whispered. "Your blood pressure..." Another slap. Harder. "Don’t tell me what to do." The door creaked open again. Cassian. "Father." Cassian's voice was calm but firm. "You have a meeting with the Southridge council in thirty minutes. Shouldn’t you be preparing?" Gerard turned toward his favored son, and instantly, his expression softened. "Ah, Cassian. My golden boy. You're right, as always." Cassian gave Lucienne a quick glance. Their eyes met for only a second. A silent apology. Gerard swept out of the room like a storm passing, leaving cold air behind him. Once they were alone, Cassian crossed the room and touched Lucienne's cheek gently. "Did he hit you again?" Lucien didn’t answer. Cassian sighed. "You should fight back, Lucien. You’re not weak." Lucien shook his head. "You know it’ll only make it worse." They stood there for a moment in silence. Then Cassian said, "There's a party tonight. A big one. Father is hosting it, for the Crescents family." Lucien's brows drew together. "The mafia family?" "Yes. And... I’m bringing someone." Lucien tilted his head. "Who?" "Her name is Selene Kingsley. Zayn Kingsley's sister." Lucienne stared. "Is that safe? Bringing her here?" "It was her idea," Cassian replied. "She wants to meet the family." Lucienne didn’t say what he was thinking. He knew how powerful the Kingsleys were. He also knew how reckless Cassian could be when he thought he was in love. Cassian ran a hand through his hair. "Listen... I know tonight is going to be hard. Father will be watching everything. Just... stay invisible." Lucienne nodded. "And wear something nice," Cassian added. "Not that old sweater." Lucienne smiled faintly. "I’ll try." Cassian looked at him for a moment longer, then said, "He doesn’t hate you because of who you are, Lucien. He hates you because he doesn’t understand you." Lucienne's smile faded. "I don't even understand myself." Cassian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver chain with a tiny star on it. "Here. For good luck." Lucienne hesitated, then took it. "Thank you." When Cassian left, Lucienne returned to the window. Outside, the staff were setting up the grand pavilion. Tables draped in white, crystal glasses catching the afternoon sun. A party for people who mattered. And he, the hidden son, the ghost twin, would be there too. But not to be seen. Only to take the fall, if needed. And something in his chest whispered that tonight, everything would change.Zayn’s mood had been black from the moment he ended that call with Lucien. He had not even let his car settle properly into the compound when he stormed into the mansion. His face was hard, his eyes sharper than blades, and everyone that saw him quickly moved aside. He did not waste time. He summoned every bodyguard in the mansion with a single shout. Within minutes, they gathered, waiting for orders. Zayn stood before them, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Who the fuck gave my father the idea to call Lucien out of this house without my permission?” His voice cut like fire. Silence. No one spoke. Their eyes dropped to the ground, too afraid to meet his gaze. “Answer me!” Zayn roared, slamming his fist into the wall. The plaster cracked under the force, dust falling to the polished floor. Finally, one of the older bodyguards stepped forward, bowing his head deeply. “Sir… it was Master himself. He said he wanted to see the Sir Lucien. We… we could not disobey him.” Zayn’s j
After Zayn’s father was done talking with Lucien, he waved his hand lightly, as if dismissing the subject, and looked at the bodyguard standing by the door.“Take him back,” he instructed. His tone carried authority that left no room for questions. Then, after a pause, he added, “And send three more men with you. Protect him.”The guard bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, sir.”Lucien stood quickly, a huge breath of relief escaping his lips. His chest felt lighter the moment the words “take him back” left the old man’s mouth. He had been tense the whole time in that room, with Zayn’s father watching him like a hawk, as if trying to read his very soul. Finally, he could leave.“Thank you,” Lucien muttered politely, though his voice was tight. He didn’t wait for a response. Turning away, he almost rushed out of the room. His hands shook slightly as he clutched his bag closer to his body. Finally. I can breathe again, he thought.With the bodyguard who had brought him there leading the wa
"Lucien, I said a week and it's just three days. How do you expect me to come back?" Zayn said for the tenth time that day, his voice calm but laced with exhaustion. "I want you home now," Lucien replied stubbornly, his lips pressing into a pout. He sat on the massive bed with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the phone screen as if Zayn could feel the full weight of his frustration through the camera. Zayn sighed, leaning back in his chair at the hotel room. He had been buried in work, but none of that drained him as much as this daily coaxing did. He was starting to regret calling Lucien every single day, but then again, he knew if he didn’t, Lucien would explode into an even bigger storm of sulking. “Baby,” Zayn said, softening his tone, “you’re acting like I left you for a year. It’s only been three days.” Lucien’s brows furrowed deeper. “Three days is too much already. Do you know how boring it is here without you? I don’t even eat well. I don’t even sleep well.
~~~~~A MONTH LATER ~~~~~~ Lucien stared at himself in the mirror and he looked down at his belly which had grown a little. Lucien rubbed his tummy as he stared at the mirror and Zayn hugged him from the back and kissed him. “Good morning, baby. How is my tiny baby doing?” Zayn asked, his voice warm, teasing, but full of care. Lucien smiled and responded softly, “Doing well.” Zayn brushed his hand over Lucien’s slightly rounded belly. He loved doing that every morning now, like it was his way of checking in with both Lucien and the baby. “I will be going out of town for a while, but I will be back soon. Selene and Cassien will be with you, okay?” Zayn said, resting his chin on Lucien’s shoulder. Lucien frowned as he turned to him. “That’s not okay. Let me go with you.” “Lucien, it’s just a week,” Zayn replied gently. Lucien pouted as he folded his arms, glaring at the floor like a sulky child. “A week is too long.” Zayn let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You wo
Zayn led Lucien toward the SUV, his hand resting lightly on the younger boy’s shoulder. With a smooth pull, he opened the door. Lucien stepped inside, the scent of leather and faint cologne filling the air as Zayn slid in after him. The car purred to life, pulling away from the hospital. Silence stretched between them for a few minutes, broken only by the steady hum of the engine. Then Zayn’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, spoke briefly in a low tone, and cut the call. A smile tugged at his lips—soft at first, then spreading wider as if he couldn’t contain it. Lucien turned his head, studying him curiously. His brows knitted. “Why are you smiling?” Zayn didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer and pulled Lucien into a warm embrace, pressing his face against Lucien’s hair and inhaling as though grounding himself in the boy’s presence. “You’ll see,” he murmured, his voice low with something almost secretive. Lucien pulled back slightly, suspicion flickering across hi
Zayn walked into Dr. Daniel’s office, his steps heavy with frustration. He didn’t wait to be invited; he dropped into the chair across from the doctor and rubbed his temples as if trying to squeeze the stress out of his head. “Any progress?” Dr. Daniel asked carefully, watching him. Zayn let out a long sigh and leaned back in the chair. “Same as usual. Nothing.” The room went quiet for a moment. Then Dr. Daniel spoke again. “You need to clear this misunderstanding, Zayn. It won’t solve itself.” Zayn gave a small nod. “I know.” “So, how is it going?” Zayn asked, shifting the focus. Dr. Daniel straightened, pulling a file closer. “Lucien’s injury is healing well. Luckily, the knife didn’t damage any vital organs. As for the pregnancy… he’s eight weeks along now. The baby is healthy. If you want, we can schedule an ultrasound to find out the gender.” Zayn shook his head quickly. “That’s not the problem now, Doctor.” His voice grew tight. “What I want to know is—how will h
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