All Chapters of FAKE HUSBAND, REAL TWIN: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Sarah’s POVThe morning air was crisp, cool against my cheeks as I stepped onto the front porch of the townhouse. A sleek black Escalade idled in the driveway, and Emily leaned casually against the passenger door, sipping her oat milk latte from a stainless-steel travel mug.“You ready to fall in love with buildings that look like they survived three world wars?” she quipped, arching a brow.I chuckled, wrapping my coat tighter. “I already do that every time I look in the mirror.”She grinned. “Fair.”The drive out of the city was quiet, lined with early morning light spilling across the wide roads and elegant brownstones. The kind of quiet money buys—clean sidewalks, tucked-away cafés, tree-lined streets where people jog with golden retrievers and personal trainers. It was a far cry from the chaos I used to live in.I stared out the window, watching the world blur past. Somewhere beneath the calm, my heart stirred. Years ago, I walked streets like these—not as a resident, but as a gh

Sarah’s POVThe hotel room wasn’t grand—just two double beds, a tiny bathroom, and the soft hum of the air conditioner—but Renee sat on the edge of the mattress like it was a throne. She clutched the box of takeout to her chest, her arms curled protectively around Elijah as he slept soundly in her lap for the first time in what she said had been three days.I adjusted the second pillow behind her back and poured water into the plastic cup the front desk had given us. “Here,” I said gently, “small sips. You haven’t eaten in hours.”She nodded, took the cup with trembling hands, and sipped. Then again. “I didn’t think this would happen,” she murmured. “That someone would actually help.”I sat across from her, leaning slightly forward. “You helped yourself first, Renee. You kept going. That counts for something.”Adrian was down the hall talking to the hotel manager, finalizing arrangements to cover a few nights and alerting the nurse practitioner at a nearby clinic to expect them in the

Sarah’s POVThe soft flicker of fairy lights was just beginning to dance across the walls of The Haven, casting a warm glow over the small gathering space. The smell of fresh flowers mingled with the scent of freshly baked goods, a quiet celebration in the making. I could feel the gentle hum of excitement stirring within me—this was it. The foundation’s opening, a dream that had been built over months of hard work, was finally coming to life.I stood by the window, looking out at the gentle evening sky. The light had that soft lavender hue that reminded me of moments of peace, moments of calm. I ran my fingers over the delicate fabric of the tablecloth, smoothing out the wrinkles. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours—my hands had carefully placed each piece, each decoration, every detail. It was a reflection of what we had worked for, a space where people would come to find healing, understanding, and a place to belong.Adrian was busy in the corner, helping the volunteers organize the

Sarah’s POVThe morning after the wedding was soft and golden.Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the cottage we’d stayed in for the night—just a few minutes from the venue. The air was still, except for the occasional chirp of a bird outside and the faint rustle of trees in the wind. I lay there for a moment, eyes closed, Adrian’s arm draped over my waist, our breaths in sync.Married. For real, this time.I was someone’s wife. His wife.The word settled gently over me, not heavy or intimidating, but warm—like being wrapped in a favorite blanket.Adrian stirred beside me. “You’re awake.”I smiled, eyes still closed. “So are you.”“Barely.” His voice was husky, sleep-worn. “But you’re smiling, so I think I’m doing alright as a husband so far.”I laughed softly. “You’re doing amazing.”We stayed like that for a few more moments before he finally sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “You ready to sneak away with me?”“Honeymoon sneak-away?” I teased, stretching. “Yes, please

Sarah’s POVI couldn’t sleep that night.After the last dish had been washed, after the projector had been turned off and all the guests had either gone home or been tucked in their beds, and after Adrian kissed my temple and whispered goodnight, I lay in the dark, listening to the soft rise and fall of Nora’s breathing through the baby monitor.Seven.She was seven.I wrapped my arms around myself as I stood by the window, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the floor. It didn’t feel like seven years had passed since I first held her in that sterile hospital room—small, fragile, barely able to cry. They had whisked her away before I could even memorize her face, and I remembered lying there, feeling both the wonder of motherhood and the paralyzing fear that I might lose her.She’d been sick—so sick. The doctors had whispered words I didn’t understand at first. Words like congenital defect, pediatric surgery, and long-term treatment. I was only teenager myself. Alone. No mone