All Chapters of TIED TO THE WRONG TWIN: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

9 Chapters

You're marrying me,buddy.

XAVIER The roses reeked of decay, their sweet perfume clingling to the back of my throat like a bad omen. The garden was a masterpiece of forced elegance, a tableau of white silk and crystal, the band's deliberate notes hanging in the air . It was the perfect setting for a perfect marriage – one that would cement my place in the family fortune . I stood at the altar, my palms slick with sweat, as the guests whispered behind their fans and champagne flutes. They were all here for the same reason: to witness a union that would either secure my place in my family wealth. And the bride was a no-show. Margaret had vanished, leaving behind the gown, the vows, and the carefully crafted facade. In another life, I might have admired her courage. A hand touched my elbow, and I turned to find Christopher, Margaret's twin, standing beside me, resplendent in his tuxedo. His eyes met mine, a spark of defiance in their depths. "You look like a man at his own execution," he murmured. "Exe

What are we even?

CRISTOPHER The city was loud, alive, and exactly what I needed. Not the marriage. Not the ring. I left it on the dresser without a second thought. Whatever vows we said back there, they meant nothing here. The club pulsed with heat and bodies, music threading through my veins as I let myself disappear into it. Just movement - the press of someone else’s hands at my waist. “Relax,” the man behind me murmured, pulling me closer.I leaned back into him, letting the rhythm take over, letting my hands wander just enough to keep things interesting. For a moment, I almost forgot— Then I felt it.The cold, intense staring on my back. I turned. And there he was. Xavier. I smiled, and instead of stepping away, I leaned closer into my dance partner, letting my body move more deliberately now. Let him watch. Let's see how far this would go. “Enjoying yourself?” His voice slid through the music when he reached me. I turned slowly. “I was.” The man behind me stepped away witho

I'm gonna ruin you

CHRISTOPHER "You should have walked away tonight," Xavier murmured. I met his eyes. "So should have you." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Xavier's gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he'd kiss me. "We're not doing this here." I raised an eyebrow. "Afraid of a little public display of affection?" His jaw clenched. "I'm not afraid of anything, Christopher. I just don't want to give them a show." I smiled, slow and sly. "You're already giving them a show, Xavier. You're just not sure if you're the star or the audience." He took a step closer, his voice low and rough. "You think you're funny, don't you?" I tilted my head. "I think I'm just getting started." Xavier’s hand shot out, his fingers threading into the hair at the nape of my neck with a sudden, bruising intensity that silenced the next witty remark. He didn’t pull away; he pulled me in until our chests collided, the heat radiating through his shirt. "Then start," he rasped,

Are you gonna deny it?

CHRISTOPHER The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows was offensive. Clothes were a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the door to the oversized mahogany desk and, eventually, to the rumpled expanse of the bed. I was already leaning against the marble kitchen island, wrapped in one of discarded silk robe.Xavier emerged from the bedroom a few moments later, looking infuriatingly composed for a man who had been undone only hours ago. He stopped when he saw me, his expression snapping back into that familiar, unreadable mask. "So," I started, my voice still raspy from the night before. "Let’s get the script out of the way, shall we? Is this the part where you look me in the eye and tell me last night was a momentary lapse in judgment ? " I set the mug down with a soft clink and leaned forward, my eyes dancing with mockery. "Are you going to call it a mistake, Xavier? Or are we going with 'stress-induced anomaly' today? I just want to make sure I have the right

You're a Smith now

CHRISTOPHER The glass doors of Smith-Vance Holdings slid open, and the lobby of the skyscraper fell into a practised, rhythmic hush. This was the debut—the first time the world saw the "unified front" that had cost two empires a fortune and one very long night to construct. "Congratulations, Mr. Smith, Mr. Vance!" The head of security beamed, bowing slightly as we passed the mahogany desk. "Wishing you a lifetime of happiness, sirs," a receptionist chimed in, her eyes darting to the matching gold bands. "Thank you. Get the Sterling files to my office," he clipped out. "Thank you, Janet. The flowers in the lobby are a lovely touch. Though, perhaps a bit much for a funeral, don't you think?" The receptionist’s smile faltered, but I was already stepping into the private executive elevator. The doors slid shut, sealing us in a box of brushed steel and suffocating silence. "A funeral, Christopher? Really?" he hissed, his voice echoing in the small space. "You couldn't manage

To my cliché life

CHRISTOPHER The key to the new place felt light in my palm, a tiny piece of metal that promised a clean break from the suffocating luxury of the penthouse. "I'm moving out on Friday," I mumbled. "Fine," he replied smoothly. "Just coordinate with Marcus so the security team can sweep the building first. I don't need a scandal because you picked a place with poor surveillance." I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absolute lack of friction. "That's it? No lecture on the optics of the merger? No threats about my dividends?" "Why would I waste the energy?" Xavier finally glanced up. "The public expects us to be a modern, busy couple. If anyone asks, we’ll say you wanted an apartment closer to the commercial district. It’s entirely believable." He picked up his coffee cup, taking a slow sip. "Besides, Christopher, less time spent bickering with you in the hallways means more time I can actually spend working. It’s a win for efficiency." "And what about the penthouse?" I pushed,

A trophy for a few months

CHRISTOPHER "If we are going to make this arrangement work for the remaining five months, Christopher, you need to atleast be constructive," Xavier commanded. "Which is why I am putting you in charge of the regional operations." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Operations? Xavier, please. Is this the part where you pretend to value my professional input, or is this just one of your elaborate schemes to monitor my movement? Keep your friends close, and your fake husband under video surveillance?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "It's a practical assignment. I am well aware of your past experience with EA. You managed their logistics framework for two years before the transition. You know the infrastructure better than anyone on my current board." "My, my. Someone did their homework. I didn't realize you spent your lonely nights reading through my old portfolio, husband. I'm almost touched." -------------------------------------- The regional external meet

I bought the weekend

CHRISTOPHER The grand ballroom of the cultural pavilion was a sea of shimmering silk and diamonds. As the designated hosts of the annual Winter Gala, Xavier and I stood near the stage, the perfect picture of corporate royalty. "The auction is starting," Xavier murmured. "The resort package is up third. Let the board members fight over it, smile for the cameras, and we can leave by eleven." "Always so perfect, husband," I snickered back, taking a slow sip of my champagne. "Aren't you excited to see which elderly utility tycoon wins a weekend of my undivided attention?" "They are buying a marketing tour of our new logistics infrastructure, Christopher. Don't flatter yourself." I smiled into my glass. The rules of the charity auction were rigid: as the donors and hosts, we were legally barred from bidding on our own package. The auctioneer cleared his throat, the digital screen behind him flashing a stunning aerial view of our private island resort. "Item number three," the aucti

A " you " problem

CHRISTOPHER I leaned further into Arthur's touch, my eyes never leaving the rigid, furious figure standing in the patio archway. The truth was, this wasn't an accident. When I packed my bags for this island, it had all been a calculated gamble. I knew exactly how much my absence would itch at Xavier's carefully guarded composure. I had been hoping he would break. I had been hoping he would show up. And looking at him now — breathing heavily, his hair mushed from the wind — I realized I had won the bet. "See?" I murmured to Arthur, my voice dripping with honeyed amusement. "I told you he has a terrible habit of tracking me down when I’m about to have a good time." Xavier’s hands balled into tight fists at his sides. "Christopher. We are leaving. Now." I finally turned my head to look at him, letting my gaze lazily sweep down his wrinkled shirt and unbuttoned collar before locking onto his dark eyes. "You must have mistaken me for someone who takes orders from you, Xavier,"

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