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POV: IVY
“Marry Michael Sterling in your sister’s place, Ivy, or you can watch your grandmother die without another cent from this family.”
My mother Evelyn’s voice cut through the quiet air of the private dining room, as cold and sharp as cracked ice.
I stared across the mahogany dining table at her, my breath catching painfully in my chest. I couldn't believe the words she had just spoken so casually. Evelyn didn't even look up as she spoke; she simply cut into her steak, her diamond rings catching the ambient light of the chandelier.
Beside her sat my twin sister, Gemma, casually sipping red wine. She looked striking in her ivory silk suit, her golden-brown hair falling in effortless waves over her shoulders. On the surface, we were identical, the same oval faces, the same dark eyes, the same straight noses. But while Gemma sat like a polished princess showered in our mother’s endless affection, I sat like a ghost, discarded and unloved.
Evelyn reached into her leather handbag and withdrew a thick white envelope, sliding it across the polished wood until it tapped against my hands.
It was an itemized statement from St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital. Grandmother’s outstanding ICU bills.
At the bottom of the page, a bold red stamp glared up at me: PAYMENT REQUIRED WITHIN 24 HOURS OR TRANSFER TO PUBLIC HOSPICE WILL INITIATE.
My throat choked with dry dust. "Grandmother is on a ventilator," I whispered, my voice trembling violently as I pushed the paper back. "She needs round-the-clock specialized care! The doctors warned us that moving her right now will kill her!"
"Then you had better make sure she doesn't suffer that move," Evelyn replied, her tone flat and utterly devoid of warmth. She took a delicate sip from her glass. "Your father’s real estate firm is drowning in debt. Sterling Enterprises holds eighty percent of our liabilities. The only reason Michael Sterling hasn't liquidated our assets is because your father agreed to an arranged marriage alliance."
"An alliance with Gemma," I said, turning my eyes to my twin sister. "Not me."
Gemma let out a dramatic sigh and crossed her arms, rolling her dark eyes.
"I am not doing it, Ivy," Gemma sneered, her lip curling in disgust. "I just signed a major contract with a top modeling agency in Paris. My flight leaves tomorrow night. Do you honestly expect me to sacrifice my youth, my beauty, and my freedom to sit in a cold mansion playing house with a man who treats everyone like dirt under his shoes?"
"He is the CEO of the largest conglomerate in the city!" I argued, leaning forward, desperate to make her see reason. "You agreed to the dinner meetings! You let Mother promise you to him!"
"I agreed when I thought it would make me the toast of high society!" Gemma whined back. "I didn't know Michael Sterling was a stone-cold machine who keeps a low-class mistress named Melanie on the side! I refuse to lock myself in a cage for three years!"
"If Gemma breaks the engagement, the Sterling merger fails," Evelyn put in smoothly. "And if the merger fails, we go bankrupt. Which means I will no longer have the luxury of paying tens of thousands of dollars to keep your grandmother breathing in a private suite."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The room grew suffocatingly tight.
Grandmother was the only person in this miserable family who had ever truly loved me.
While Evelyn celebrated everything Gemma did—buying her designer gowns, praising her beauty, and pushing me into dark corners, Grandmother was the one who held me when I cried in secret. She was the one who bandaged my knees, defended me when Evelyn blamed me for things I had never done, and held my face in her warm hands, whispering that being unwanted by my mother did not make me worthless.
She was my sanctuary, my only true home in a house built on ice. And now, my own mother was using Grandmother's very life support as a weapon to destroy my future.
"Their solution is you, Ivy," Evelyn continued, pulling a blue legal folder from her bag and placing it beside the hospital bill. "You and Gemma are identical twins. Except for that faint crescent birthmark on your left collarbone, nobody can tell you apart. With the right clothes, Gemma’s posture, and her makeup, you can pass for her effortlessly."
"This is madness!" I choked out, pushing myself back from the table. "Michael Sterling isn't a fool! He will realize I'm an imposter the second he looks at me!"
"He won't," Evelyn stated coldly. "Michael has only met Gemma twice at crowded corporate banquets where they barely spoke three sentences. He doesn't know her voice intimately. He is marrying a corporate title and a contract, not a soulmate."
She tapped her finger against the blue folder.
"This is a secret three-year marriage contract. You put on the dress, walk down the aisle, and live as Michael’s wife for thirty-six months. Keep your head down, cause no scandals, and stay out of his way. Do this, and the family trust will pay every cent of your grandmother’s medical care directly to the hospital. When the three years end, you sign divorce papers under Gemma's name, collect a two-million-dollar lump sum, and disappear forever."
"And if I refuse?" I asked, though deep down, I already knew the horrifying answer.
"If you refuse, I will stop the trust wire transfer tonight," Evelyn replied, her dark eyes locking onto mine with terrifying calculation. "The hospital will transfer your grandmother to the municipal hospice at six in the morning. You know as well as I do that she won't survive the transfer."
A hot tear escaped my eye and burned down my cheek. I looked at Gemma, silently pleading with her, hoping a shred of humanity remained in her chest.
"Gemma, please," I begged quietly. "She’s your grandmother, too. She raised us."
Gemma scoffed, picking up a gold compact mirror to check her lipstick. "Oh, please, Ivy. Stop being so dramatic. Grandmother always favored you anyway. Besides, you should be grateful for the opportunity to be useful to this family for once in your life. You get to live in a luxury mansion, and all you have to do is pretend to be me."
My heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. The raw, cruel indifference in her voice wiped away any lingering hope I held for my sister.
They had backed me into a corner with no exit. There was no police officer to call, no money in my private bank account to save Grandmother on my own. They held the breath of the only woman who loved me in their hands, demanding my life as the ransom.
I looked down at my trembling hands, wiping away my tears. I would not let Grandmother die in a cold public ward just because the people who could afford to save her decided her life wasn't worth the expense. If I had to burn my own future to keep her heart beating, I would do it without flinching.
Evelyn picked up her gold fountain pen, capped it with a slow, decisive click, and slid the legal folder until it touched my trembling wrists.
Her cold eyes bored into mine with absolute authority.
“You have until midnight to decide whether your grandmother lives or dies.”
POV: IVY The contract promised me freedom in three years, but every signature felt like another lock closing around my life.I sat in the quiet, climate-controlled office of Mr. Vance, the family’s corporate attorney. The morning sun filtered through tall glass windows, illuminating the thick stack of legal documents resting between us on the polished mahogany desk.Mr. Vance adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and pushed a thin blue folder toward me.“This is the private substitution rider, Miss Ivy,” he said, his voice measured and professional. “It incorporates the strict terms you demanded last night. The family trust is legally bound to fund your grandmother’s ICU treatment, private doctors, and specialized equipment unconditionally. It also guarantees a two-million-dollar compensation payout directly to your personal account upon completion of the three years.”I let out a slow, heavy breath, leaning forward to read every line. But before my eyes could focus on the text, Mr. Vance
POV: IVY My own mother looked me in the eyes and explained exactly how much suffering she was willing to allow before saving the woman who had raised me.The heavy door to Evelyn’s study clicked shut behind me. The room smelled of old leather books, bitter dark coffee, and heavy rose perfume. Evelyn sat behind her massive mahogany desk, illuminated by the warm light of a brass desk lamp. Laid out in neat, precise rows across the dark wood were the final marriage documents, their pristine white pages practically glowing under the light.She didn't ask me to sit down. She simply tapped her gold fountain pen against the blotter, her dark eyes tracking me as I walked toward the desk with Gemma’s folder tucked beneath my arm.“Sit down, Ivy,” Evelyn commanded, her voice smooth, flat, and entirely devoid of affection.I remained standing, my spine rigid, my fingernails digging into my palms. “I’d rather stand. Let’s get this over with, Evelyn.”A faint, amused sigh escaped her lips. “The S
POV: IVYGemma smiled as she handed me the details of my new identity, as though she were giving me a gift instead of selling three years of my life.I walked into her master bedroom, holding the legal papers from the downstairs desk tightly in my hands. The room was chaotic, filled with open designer luggage, garment bags, and glossy modeling portfolios spread across her king-sized bed. Gemma was sitting in the middle of it all, carefully packing high-end cashmere sweaters into a velvet-lined suitcase, humming a sweet tune as if she didn't have a single care in the world.She looked up at me, casually tossing a thick, leather-bound folder onto the edge of the bed near my knee.“Everything you need to survive is right in there,” Gemma said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.I stared at the black binder, unable to comprehend how my own identical twin sister could prepare for a trip to France while forcing me to marry a stranger without showing the slightest trace of remorse
POV: IVYMy grandmother once told me that love should never feel like a debt, but now her life has become the price of mine.The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my throat as I hurried down the long, sterile corridor of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital. My heels clicked frantically against the polished floor, the sound echoing off the bare walls. I pushed open the heavy door to Suite 402, my chest heaving, desperate to see her before making a choice that would rewrite the rest of my existence.The room was bathed in the dim, blue glow of medical monitors. Beep. Beep. Beep.Grandmother was lying in the center of the mechanical bed, looking smaller and more fragile than I had ever seen her. Soft oxygen tubes rested beneath her nose, and her pale hands were bruised from IV needles. But when her dark eyes shifted toward the door and landed on me, a soft, familiar warmth illuminated her face.“Ivy... my sweet girl,” she rasped, her voice paper-thin. She reached out a trembling hand, searching
POV: IVY “Marry Michael Sterling in your sister’s place, Ivy, or you can watch your grandmother die without another cent from this family.”My mother Evelyn’s voice cut through the quiet air of the private dining room, as cold and sharp as cracked ice.I stared across the mahogany dining table at her, my breath catching painfully in my chest. I couldn't believe the words she had just spoken so casually. Evelyn didn't even look up as she spoke; she simply cut into her steak, her diamond rings catching the ambient light of the chandelier.Beside her sat my twin sister, Gemma, casually sipping red wine. She looked striking in her ivory silk suit, her golden-brown hair falling in effortless waves over her shoulders. On the surface, we were identical, the same oval faces, the same dark eyes, the same straight noses. But while Gemma sat like a polished princess showered in our mother’s endless affection, I sat like a ghost, discarded and unloved.Evelyn reached into her leather handbag and







