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Home / Mafia / Twice You / Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

All Chapters of Twice You: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

118 Chapters

CHAPTER 40

The memories arrive like waves on a rising tide, each one bringing not only images but complete textures—the smell of chalk and old paper, the specific weight of decisions that rewrite entire lives, the sound of doors closing forever.I wake in the castle with the matte gold ring on my finger and the past unfolding in my consciousness with a clarity that cuts. The memory of the pregnancy test opened floodgates I’m not sure I want to close, but that I can no longer ignore.Dublin, ten years ago. Six months pregnant.Professor Hennessy’s office always smelled of old books and stale coffee, but today there is something different in the air—a farewell that hasn’t been spoken yet, but that hangs between us like cigarette smoke.“Sit down, Evie,” he says, without lifting his eyes from the star map spread across the desk.I sit with difficulty, my six-month belly making every movement a negotiation. Claire—already decided that will be our baby girl’s name—seems to have her own opinion about p

CHAPTER 41

I wake in the castle with my face wet from real tears, the matte gold ring heavy on my finger like an anchor to a reality Harvey tried to erase. The memory arrives complete this time, loaded with the smell of distant gunpowder and the sound of gunshots echoing through the streets of Dublin.Dublin, ten years ago. Thirty-eight weeks pregnant.Claire’s birth didn’t happen in a private maternity ward with a view of Phoenix Park. It happened in the middle of an urban war that turned Dublin into a battlefield.The transition of power in the Callahan empire had created a vacuum that three rival factions were trying to fill simultaneously. The McKennas from the south, the Brennans from the north, and an unexpected alliance between smaller groups that saw an opportunity in the “weakness” of a newly married Callahan about to become a father.They were wrong about the weakness. Declan hadn’t become vulnerable—he had become lethal in a completely new way.My water broke on a Tuesday at eleven at

CHAPTER 42

Author’s NoteHello, dear readers,I want to apologize to all of you who have reached this point and are reading without fully understanding what’s happening. After spending time rereading the book, I realized there were many repeated pieces of information and that the story wasn’t moving forward—it kept circling the same situations.So, once again, I’m sorry. I truly want your experience with this book to be the best it can be. That’s why I’ve revised and improved the earlier chapters (specifically chapters 7 and 8), and I’ve restructured and refined chapters 11 onward. I removed repetitive actions, dialogues, and events that were slowing down the pace.I hope you enjoy these changes and that the story now feels clearer as you continue reading. If anything still doesn’t make sense or feels confusing, please feel free to comment—I read every single one.Thank you for your patience and for staying with the story.Happy reading.This notice is for those who arrived here before June 3rd,

CHAPTER 43

The final memory doesn’t ask permission to enter. It explodes through the barriers Harvey built in my mind with the devastating force of a dam breaking, bringing not only images but the complete texture of that night—the smell of Irish rain mixed with fear, the metallic taste of adrenaline, and the specific weight of a decision that would rewrite everything.Dublin, six years ago. November.After Maeve left through my door that blood-soaked dawn, I lived fourteen days carrying two worlds at once.In the first, I was Evie Callahan — mother of Claire, wife of Declan, silent queen of an empire built on loyalty and violence. I took my daughter to the park, cooked dinners, and slept beside the man who would burn Dublin down for me.In the second world, I carried Maeve’s leather folder like an undetonated bomb.I hid the documents in the most unlikely place I could think of — inside one of the astrophysics books Declan would never open, Principles of Stellar Evolution, the same one Professo

CHAPTER 44

The scream tears through the darkness like shattering glass.It isn’t the delicate sound of someone waking from a nightmare — it’s something primitive, torn from a place so deep it cuts the throat on the way out. It’s the echo of twisting metal, of failing brakes, of the impact that should have killed me on that wet Dublin road.I wake thrashing against sheets that turn into airbags, against pillows that become a steering wheel. The smell of Irish rain mixes with the ghost of gasoline and blood, and for one terrifying second, I don’t know if I’m in the castle or on that road, if I survived or if this is just the last thought before silence.“Evie!” Declan’s voice cuts through the confusion like an anchor. “Mo chroí, look at me. You’re here. With me.”His arms wrap around me before I finish processing where I am, holding me with enough force to feel real without feeling like a prison. His broad chest presses against my back, his heart beating hard against my spine — not the controlled

CHAPTER 45

The Zeiss TelescopeThe decision to confront Harvey alone isn’t impulsive. It’s calculated, weighed, and inevitable—like the orbit of a planet around its star.After the night in the observatory with Declan, after recovering the full memory of our first kiss, our wedding in Galway, and the birth of Claire—after remembering who I was before Harvey Prescott decided to rebuild me—there is one equation that still needs to be solved.I cannot continue existing between two men without clearly defining where the programming ends and where genuine choice begins.I find Harvey in the library at ten in the morning, while Declan is at the docks with Zion and Claire is in the kitchen with Luka, learning to make Irish scones with questionable results. The house breathes with that specific quality of space between crises, when people lower their guard slightly.“We need to talk,” I say, closing the door behind me.Harvey lifts his eyes from the tablet, processing my expression with that silent spee

CHAPTER 46

Boston in the CrosshairsDeclan CallahanThere are things a man never imagines having to do in his life.Sitting at a table with the bastard who stole six years of his wife’s life to plan a joint war is one of them.The castle library has been turned into a war room. The mahogany table that served three generations of Callahans to divide territories and declare wars in Dublin’s underworld has never witnessed an alliance as profane as the one forming now. Physical and digital maps cover the ancestral surface. Luka installed three monitors streaming live camera feeds from strategic points across Europe. Zion stands near the door because Zion never sits during tactical meetings — a principle I deeply respect.It is two in the afternoon. The Irish rain beats against the windows with that persistence I learned to use as background music for planning.Evie sits to my left, wearing a simple black shirt and the matte gold ring that catches the light when she gestures. Her green eyes have that

CHAPTER 47

One week.Seven days since the castle library became a war room, with maps of Viktor Lang spread across the mahogany table like the anatomy of an enemy still dancing in Europe’s shadows. Seven days of Luka coordinating contacts across three time zones, Zion reinforcing perimeters with that silent discipline that is his second nature, and Maeve sending encrypted messages from the hiding place I still refuse to fully reveal.And seven days of Harvey Prescott trying to learn how to exist in the same space as me without controlling me.The change isn’t dramatic. Harvey never does anything dramatic — he is far too subtle for that, far too calculated for obvious gestures. But it is there, in the small absences that weigh more than any presence: the “good girl” that no longer comes automatically when I follow his instructions, the breathing he no longer regulates with commands disg

CHAPTER 48

In the afternoon, when the rain intensifies and the castle takes on that specific quality of suspended space between what was and what has not yet happened, I find Harvey in Declan’s winter garden.He is looking at the orchids with a thoughtful expression I don’t recognize from the complete catalog of expressions I learned during six years in Boston.“Declan grows orchids,” I say, sitting on the wrought-iron bench, which is cold even through my clothes.“For years, from what I can see,” Harvey answers, and doesn’t turn immediately. A subtle change, but one I register with precision. “Claire told me he talks to them.”“And you find that strange?”Harvey is silent for a moment that doesn’t seem calculated.“I find it efficient,” he says at last. “Consis

CHAPTER 49

I can’t sleep. That’s the problem that’s been eating at me for weeks, ever since I asked Harvey to stop. Declan’s arm rests heavy over my waist, his body radiating generous, safe warmth against my back. He sleeps like someone with a clean conscience, like someone who has never needed to question his own desires. I envy that in him.But here I am, at three in the morning, staring into the darkness of the ceiling as if it might give me answers. It feels like I’ve suddenly stopped taking a medication — my body doesn’t understand the absence and protests in ways that make no logical sense. There’s an itch behind my eyes that isn’t sleep, a restlessness under my skin that isn’t physical. It’s withdrawal. Withdrawal from a low, polished voice telling me exactly what to do. From steady hands guiding every breath, every thought.I asked him to stop. I said it clearly,

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