Twisted Obsession: The Billionaires Virgin Bride

ARIA

The key turns the lock with a soft click that sounds too loud in the quiet hallway.

I’m practically vibrating with excitement as I push open the door to Marcus’s apartment, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The promotion letter is still warm in my purse—Senior Director of Marketing at twenty-six. After years of caffeine-fueled nights, endless presentations, and fighting twice as hard to be taken seriously, I finally made it.

And I can’t wait to celebrate with Marcus.

He’ll be proud. I know he will. He’ll kiss me, spin me around, and whisper that he always knew I could do it.

The apartment is dark when I step inside, the faint scent of cedar and cologne wrapping around me. A single sliver of light leaks from beneath the bedroom door. My smile deepens. He’s home.

I slip off my heels, tiptoeing across the hardwood floor. The diamond on my finger catches a ghost of light. two carats of carefully selected princess-cut diamonds. We chose it together three months ago. Our wedding is in eight weeks. Eight weeks until everything I’ve ever dreamed of becomes real.

I reach for the bedroom door, with my heart full, and my mind already painting the moment I tell him. The feeling of his arms around me. His deep, throaty chuckle that does wonders in my body. The champagne we’ll open...

A sound cuts through my thoughts.

Low, rhythmic, and sexy.

I stop breathing.

It takes a second for my mind to catch up to my body to process what my ears already know but refuse to accept.

No. No, it can’t be...

My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob. A voice inside me begs to turn around, to leave before everything changes. But my fingers keep moving, like they belong to someone else, pushing the door open.

The scene before me moves in slow motion and all at once.

Marcus... My Marcus is behind a woman bent over the edge of our bed. His hands grip her hips, hard and possessive, dragging her back against him with brutal rhythm. The air fills with the sound of skin meeting skin, obscene and unmistakable.

My vision blurs, and my mind refuses to believe what my eyes see.

The woman’s hair falls in long, dark waves, and it’s a familiar wave, for a fact.

No. Please, God—no.

She turns her head.

And I see my own face. Or rather...my twin sister’s.

Vivienne.

Her green eyes lock on mine. And then she smiles. Slow, deliberate, cruel smiles, that vicious curve of lips I’ve seen a thousand times when she’s won something, taken something, or destroyed something that belongs to me.

“Fuck me harder, baby,” she moans, voice dripping with mockery, not even bothering to look away from me or trying to act shocked. She’s performing for me now. The sound pierces through me, and my lungs seize. I can’t move, think, or speak.

Marcus doesn’t stop. Not immediately. It takes him several more thrusts before he follows her gaze and sees me standing in the doorway.

“Aria.” His voice is flat. Not shocked or apologetic.

Just... flat. Like I was a curious child who walked in on her parents going at it, and now they are disappointed in me for not playing elsewhere.

The engagement ring suddenly feels like a chain that weighs a thousand pounds on my finger.

“How long?” The words scrape out of my throat like broken glass.

Vivienne laughs as she pushes herself up, completely shameless in her nakedness. Marcus pulls out of her and reaches for his pants, but there’s no urgency or panic in his movements.

Because this isn’t a mistake. This isn’t a moment of weakness.

This is something else entirely.

“How long?” I repeat, my voice breaking.

“Does it matter?” Marcus asks, buttoning his pants with steady hands.

Yes. Yes, it fucking matters.

But I can’t seem to make my mouth form the words.

Vivienne wraps herself in Marcus’s robe, the one I bought him for his birthday, and walks toward me. Every step is deliberate and calculated. She’s always been like this. Always knew exactly how to wound me in the places that hurt most.

“Want the truth, sister?” Her voice drips with false sweetness.

I should leave, run. But I’m rooted to the spot, watching my life implode in real-time.

Vivienne leans against the doorframe, so close I can smell her perfume. The same one I wear. The same one our mother bought us for our sixteenth birthday.

“He was mine first.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

“What?”

“Marcus.” She gestures lazily toward him. “He was my boyfriend for eight months before you ever met him.”

No. That’s not possible. We met at a networking event two years ago. He pursued me. He said...

“The conference in Boston,” Marcus says, and his voice is far gone from the sexy, throaty voice that pulled me to him. He sounds like he’s presenting at a board meeting. “Where we ‘met’? Vivienne told me you’d be there. Told me exactly where to stand so I’d ‘accidentally’ bump into you.”

The room tilts. I grab the doorframe for support.

“She gave me everything,” he continues. “Your favorite flowers. Your coffee order. The way you twist your hair when you’re nervous. How you always wanted to wait for marriage because you thought it would mean something.”

The virgin comment lands like he knew it would. Heat floods my cheeks.

Vivienne’s smile sharpens. “You’re so predictable, Aria. You always have been. The good daughter. The responsible one. The one who does everything right.”

“Why?” My voice breaks completely now. “Why would you...”

“Because I’m sick of watching you have everything I deserve!” The words explode out of her. “You got the job I wanted. The respect I should have. Everyone loves perfect Aria, so smart, so accomplished, so genuine.”

She spits the last word like it’s poison.

“I’m your sister,” I whisper.

“Exactly.” Her eyes flash. “My twin. We’re supposed to be equal. But you’ve always had more. Not prettier...we’re identical. Not smarter...I’m not stupid. But somehow, you always win.”

“So you decided to destroy me.”

“So I decided to bring you down from your high horse for once.” She straightens, crossing her arms. “And it was so easy. God, Aria, you fell for every line. Every carefully crafted text message. Every manufactured ‘spontaneous’ date. Marcus played you perfectly.”

I look at Marcus, searching for any sign of the man I thought I knew. The man I thought I loved.

“You were a job,” he says simply. “A very lucrative job. You had the connections I needed. The respect in the industry. Dating you, getting engaged to you...it opened doors.”

“And destroying me?” I force the words out. “What did that open?”

Vivienne answers instead. “My satisfaction. Finally, watching perfect Aria lose something. Watching you hurt the way I’ve hurt every time Mom and Dad praised your accomplishments while barely noticing mine.”

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

“The sex would have been decent,” Marcus adds, and I want to vomit. “But you were always so hesitant. So worried about being perfect. Your sister, on the other hand...”

Vivienne preens under his attention.

Three years. Three years of my life with a man who was my sister’s puppet. Who never loved me. Who was actively plotting my destruction while I was picking out wedding invitations and dreaming about our future?

The promotion letter in my purse feels meaningless now. Everything feels meaningless.

“Get out,” Vivienne says, like this is her apartment. Like she has any right.

I should say something cutting. Something that puts them both in their place. But my throat is closed and my eyes are burning, and all I can think is that I need to leave before I completely fall apart in front of them.

So I do.

I turn and walk out of the apartment on numb legs. Behind me, I hear Vivienne’s laughter follow me down the hall.b