The Runaway Twin

Celine’s POV 

If I’d known my sister would vanish three nights before her wedding—and that by morning I’d be wearing her ring—I never would have answered the call.

“Come home now, Celine.”

My mother’s voice trembled through the line, thin and shaky, as if it had to fight its way through static. “Your sister… she’s gone.”

I froze, the phone pressed tight against my ear as the words sank in. Celeste doesn’t vanish. Celeste basks in attention—she lives for eyes on her, thrives under every spotlight. She wants it all, and she always gets it.

But not this time.

What happened to Celeste?

The line went dead before I could answer.

My mother had never been good at staying on the phone when things went wrong; she preferred to drop the bomb and hang up before the fallout hit her.

Three hours later, I was standing in front of the Ward mansion, staring up at the house that had stopped feeling like home the day they told me to leave. The windows still glowed with that soft, golden light that made everything look gentle from the outside. But inside, it was the same cold, brittle place I’d escaped years ago.

The front door opened before I could knock. My mother stood there—pale, tight-lipped, her fingers twisting the edge of her shawl.

“You came,” she whispered. Then more audibly. “Thank God you came.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt. “What do you mean, Celeste is gone?” Her eyes flickered—guilt, fear, and something she wasn’t ready to say.

“She left a note. Said she couldn’t go through with the union. That she needed time,” my mother lamented. Her fingers twisted the edge of her shawl. “But I have a feeling this isn’t just about needing time. Celeste was obsessed with Mr. Devereux. Something is horribly wrong.”

“Wait, She ran away before her wedding? To Lucian Devereux?” I bit out, frustrated, because my twin sister would never change, and it’s pathetic that my family can’t see the kind of person she is. My mother flinched at his name, like it was a curse.

“They’ll destroy us if they find out,” she whispered. “You know what his family is capable of—what they did the last time we embarrassed them.”

I didn’t know exactly what they’d done—at least not firsthand—but I’d heard the rumors. My father had lost half his fortune and a handful of clients after some scandal involving the Devereux family. The story was, of course, buried by the media.

Because it was ‘false’ information.

Yeah, right. Those bastards.

“So what are you saying?” I don’t know why she bothered calling me after five whole years of pretending I don’t exist. Her lips trembled. 

“We need you to take her place.” My father’s voice came from behind her. I went rigid. He looked just as stern as I remembered—every line of his face carved with disapproval. The same cold malice lived in his eyes as the day he’d disowned me.

His words hit like ice water.

My mother just stood there, eyes red and pleading, as if selling one daughter to save the family was something a good mother did.

I squared my shoulder and forced my lips to move. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t.” My mother whimpered, her eyes filling with fresh tears. I could feel my father’s gaze drilling into me, and that was enough to make me turn away. I started for the door.

I never should have come back here. These people will always put me second—no, not even second. I’m the substitute, the backup plan for when things go wrong. It’s what they do. It’s what they’ve always done.

What was I expecting? That my mother would throw her arms around me, kiss my face, and tell me she was sorry? That my father would smile and nod like a proud parent?

Why was I even here? I should’ve known better. But when it comes to them, I never do.

“Celine.”

My father’s voice cut through the air with a commanding tone that made me pause mid-step. I hated that it still did that, that part of me still flinched at the sound of his control. “You don’t have a choice.” He added.

I turned back slowly. He stepped into the light spilling from the chandelier. He looked older, but not weaker. If anything, the years had carved him harder, like stone, and that terrified me. 

“Lucian Devereux’s family is expecting a bride,” he said. “If she doesn’t walk down that aisle, they’ll bury us in scandal we won’t survive. And you’ll go down with us—whether you like it or not.”

I almost laughed. Instead I turned fully to face him.

“So, I save the family that threw me out for something I didn’t even do?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, because we both knew what his defense would be. That I was the weaker twin who was never fit to do anything for her family. My mother took a shaky step forward. 

“Please, Celine. Just for a little while, until Celeste is found. You’re the only one who can do this. You look so much like her…”

Her voice cracked, and the way she looked at me, like I was both her last hope and her biggest regret, she probably never saw a day where she would have to be the outcast daughter. That made me sick. 

“That’s the problem,” I whispered.

For a long moment, the house was silent except for the soft ticking of the old clock in the hallway. I could almost hear the weight of my own heartbeat, feel the years of resentment pressed into every polished surface of this place.

“Please,” she said again. “You’re not heartless. You wouldn’t let your family fall apart over a feud. You’re the only one who can help us.” She pleads; I cling to her every word because it’s too painful to ignore. At the same time, she’s right about one thing: I cannot stand by and do nothing, even though they’ve treated me like trash.

I might have said yes—until my father spoke again, his voice harsh and heavy with impatience.

“You owe this family,” he said. The words felt like a slap. “You brought shame to this house once. Now you can make it right.”

“By lying?” I whispered. Meeting his eyes, there’s a glimpse of hate that will never leave there. “By pretending to be her?”

“If the Devereuxs cancel this wedding, they’ll ruin us. Every partnership, every name attached to us, it all vanishes. Is that what you want?”

I wanted to tell him yes. That I wanted their reputation to burn. But the words never made it past my lips. Instead, I looked at my mother, her trembling hands, her hollow eyes, and I realized something painful. They weren’t asking. They never really had.

They were telling me.

“You’ll wear her ring,” my father said. “You’ll walk down that aisle, and no one outside this room will know.”

And as he made that statement, I finally understood why my mother’s voice had shaken so badly on the phone.

Because this wasn’t a rescue call.

It was a sentence. My sentence.

Once again I’m the twin who doesn’t need to understand, the twin who shouldn’t complain. The twin in the shadows of my younger sister. And now I have to clean a mess I’m not even aware existed. 

What did you do, Celeste?