The Billionaire's regret: My twins don't need a daddy.

Camille’s POV

“You’re marrying Asher Harrison tomorrow instead of your sister.”

The words slammed into me so hard I forgot how to breathe. I stood frozen in the middle of my father’s office, fingers curled around my handbag.

Less than thirty minutes ago, my father’s assistant had summoned me home with a tone that terrified me. I had spent the drive thinking the bankruptcy rumors were finally true. I hadn’t expected this.

The office felt too small. The scent of expensive cigars and polished mahogany clawed at my throat.

“I don’t understand,” I said quietly, my voice

shaking. “The engagement was always Mabel’s.”

Neither of my parents answered immediately. My mother sat elegantly on the sofa, one hand smoothing over ivory lace spread across her lap. I recognized the fabric instantly: Mabel’s wedding dress.

The sight made something cold settle in my stomach.

“Mabel isn’t emotionally prepared for this marriage,” my mother finally said. “She’s too young.”

“So?” I asked impatiently.

My father exhaled sharply. “So you’ll take her place.”

I blinked, sure I had heard wrong. “No. This isn't funny.”

“Does this look like a joke to you?” Arthur snapped.

“The merger is tied to the marriage,” he continued. “If the wedding doesn’t happen this week, the Harrison's will pull out the investment. If they pull out, the company collapses.”

“And that has what to do with me?” I whispered.

My mother finally met my eyes. The indifference in them nearly hollowed me out. “Everything.” she muttered.

“Mabel has spent the last year dating Asher,” I said slowly. “They’re engaged. They’re in love.”

“Mabel is sensitive,” my mother interrupted. “She’s too soft for a man like Asher Harrison.”

“And I’m not?” I asked, raising my brows slightly.

“You’ve always been better at enduring things,” she replied.

I swallowed thickly. “You mean I’m easier to sacrifice.”

My father stood, irritation flashing across his face.

“Stop being dramatic. Families like ours survive because people do what’s necessary.”

Families like ours. The irony made me sick. Families like ours spent years pretending perfection while everything rotted.

The Summers empire was drowning because of my father’s reckless spending and failed investments. I had seen it coming. I had tried to warn him. Now they wanted to hand me over like collateral damage.

“You can’t force me to marry someone who doesn’t even know I exist,” I said.

“Asher Harrison doesn’t care which daughter he marries,” my father lied.

Everybody knew who Mabel was. She was the beautiful one, the charming one, the daughter magazines loved. I was the shadow standing behind her.

“The wedding proceeds tomorrow,” my father declared.

“You already planned this?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

“The invitations are out. The press is expecting a wedding,” my mother said. “We cannot afford a scandal.”

“I won’t do it.” I said firmly, as I clenched my fists tightly.

The tension in the room sharpened. “Excuse me?” my father darkened.

“I said no.” I lifted trembling eyes. “You can’t just replace Mabel with me like a spare part.”

He slammed his hand against the desk. “You will do exactly what this family needs!”

“What family?” I shot back. “None of you have treated me like family in years.”

The silence was suffocating.

“You are unbelievably selfish,” my mother said.

Selfish? After years of cleaning up their messes?

“You’re asking me to marry my sister’s fiancé.” I blurted out in irritation, hoping they could see reasons.

“You should be grateful,” she snapped. “Asher Harrison is one of the most powerful men in Manhattan.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “And he’s in love with my sister.”

My mother looked away.

And I knew she was completely aware of that fact.

Why ruin my own life?

My father moved toward me. “Listen carefully, Camille. If this marriage doesn’t happen, we lose everything." He paused. " And If you say no, don’t bother calling yourself a Summer anymore. Your trust fund, your apartment, your connections—everything disappears. Do you understand?”

My own father was blackmailing me. I looked at them and saw no guilt, only desperation.

I ran out of the office immediately, without giving a response, nor looking back.

I walked through the corridor, and the mansion felt colder than usual. I passed Mabel’s room, and I heard soft crying drifting through the door. I pushed it open.

“Mabel?” I called out softly.

She looked up, startled. Her mascara was smudged. She quickly locked her phone, but I caught one name before it disappeared: Asher.

“You know?” I asked.

“They just told me this morning,” she whispered shakily. “I tried talking to them, but Dad’s losing everything.”

At this point, I really could not understand what was really going on?

"I’m sorry!" she whispered.

And somehow that hurt worse, and I immediately backed away. I couldn’t do this---I couldn’t marry a man who expected someone else.

I immediately left her room and ran straight to mine, and without hesitation, I yanked open the drawers, shoving clothes into a duffel bag, passport, cash, phone charger and other necessary things.

something was definitely wrong?

I needed to leave.

Now.

The mansion was suddenly silent when I slipped downstairs. The scent of fresh lilies filled the hallways, sweet enough to make me nauseous.

I pushed open the garden door and inhaled the cold night air.

“Going somewhere, Miss Camille?”

Miller, the head of security, stepped from the shadows.

And I immediately cursed under my breath. "Arthur had expected this!" I whispered under my breath.

“I’m leaving,” I said. “Move.”

“I can’t do that,” Miller said, sympathy flickering

briefly before disappearing. “I was given orders.”

“Miller, please.”

“I’m sorry, Miss.”

I tried to shove past him, but he caught my arm.

“Let me go!”

“Camille.” My mother’s voice sliced through the air, as she stood beneath the terrace lights, her expression cold.

“I’d rather disappear than become a replacement,” I whispered, tears burning. “I’d rather have nothing than be second choice.”

My mother crossed the patio in sharp strides. Then, pain exploded across my cheek. I stared at her in shock, hand pressed to my burning skin.

“For once in your life, stop ruining things for your sister,” she hissed. “You’ve always been difficult. Now you finally have a purpose, so stop acting like a victim.”

I couldn’t speak. She meant every word.

“Miller,” she said coldly, “take her upstairs. Lock the guest suite. If she isn't downstairs wearing that dress by eight tomorrow morning, you can start looking for another job.”

I stopped fighting, as there was no point.

By the time the door locked behind me, I felt hollow. The wedding dress waited near the window, a white lace.

A cage disguised as silk.

Tomorrow I would marry a man who wasn't expecting me. And one terrifying thought refused to disappear.

What if Asher Harrison hated me the moment he saw my face?