His Bride on His Twin Brother's Bed のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Aurora's POVThe storage room felt smaller than it had moments ago, the air thick with dust and the weight of unspoken histories. I stood motionless, the sealed yellowed envelope clutched tightly in my hands, its edges pressing into my palms like a warning. Naomi remained at my side, her breathing steady but alert. Aridian filled the doorway, his broad frame blocking the faint light from the corridor. For several long seconds, nobody moved. The only sound was the distant creak of the old mansion settling around us, as if Hawthorne Estate itself was holding its breath.I studied Aridian’s face. For the first time since his dramatic return, he didn’t wear the mask of calm confidence or dangerous intensity. He looked genuinely shocked, eyes locked on the envelope with raw, unguarded surprise. Not theatrical. Not calculated. Real. The sight sent a strange flutter through my chest. This was the man who had upended my entire world, yet something as simple as an old letter had pierced throu

Aurora's POVI spun around so fast I nearly dropped my phone. The flashlight beam jerked wildly across the dusty storage room before settling on Aridian. He stood in the doorway, calm and composed, as if he had been expecting this exact moment. My heart slammed against my ribs. Partly from surprise. Partly because his sudden appearances were becoming a habit I both feared and, in some twisted way, anticipated.“How long have you been standing there?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.“Long enough,” he replied simply. No real answer. I pointed toward the partially opened bookshelf, the dark gap behind it like a mouth waiting to swallow us. “You knew this was here?”His eyes shifted to the hidden opening. No surprise crossed his face. Just quiet familiarity. “Since I was twelve.”Twelve. The number hit me like a stone. “Twelve? How many secrets does this house actually have?”Aridian stepped closer, his presence filling the cramped space. “More than you can imagine.”I star

Aurora's POVNaomi walked beside me as we left the old west wing behind. Her footsteps echoed softly on the marble floors while mine felt heavier, weighed down by everything I wasn’t saying.“You sure you’re okay?” Naomi asked again, glancing sideways at me. “You’ve been quiet since I found you in that dusty room.”“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a small smile. “Just got turned around while exploring. This place is bigger than I realized.”Internally, my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. We reached my bedroom door. I paused before opening it. “Thanks for looking for me, Naomi. I mean it.”She touched my arm gently. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… stop carrying everything alone, okay?”I nodded, but the guilt sat heavy in my chest. I slipped inside and locked the door behind me the second she left.The black glove felt warm in my pocket. I pulled it out and placed it on the bed. Expensive leather. Tailored fit. Faint trace of a rich, woody cologne mixed with something sharper underneath. No

Aurora's POVMorning light filtered through the curtains, but it brought no comfort. I barely slept. The note from the night before still lay on the bedside table where I had left it. I picked it up again, reading the words for what felt like the hundredth time.“Don’t trust the man you married.”That single sentence refused to leave me. *Married.* We never actually said “I do.” The wedding was interrupted before any vows were spoken. So why phrase it that way? Was it a mistake? Or did the writer assume the wedding had already happened? Or did they simply mean the man I was supposed to marry?I had no answers. Only more questions piling on top of the ones I already carried like stones in my chest. The guilt from that night with Aridian still lingered too .The memory made me feel sick with shame.I walked to the window and looked out over the estate. Workers were quietly removing the abandoned wedding decorations pink flowers, white ribbons, chairs that had been arranged for a ceremony

Aurora's POVI sat frozen on the edge of my bed, the newspaper clipping trembling between my fingers. *She never died.* The words echoed in my skull like a taunt. The paper was brittle and yellowed, the ink faded with time, but the jagged cut where the socialite’s name should have been was brutally precise. The handwritten note at the bottom wasn’t rushed—it was deliberate, almost elegant. “If she didn’t die,” I whispered to the empty room, “then who wanted the world to believe she did?” My eyes flicked to the faceless photograph lying beside it. The same woman? It had to be. Someone was systematically erasing her from existence, and now they were dragging me into the void with her.I traced the torn edges of the clipping. “This isn’t old history. Someone is feeding me these pieces right now.” My chest tightened with a strange mix of fear and determination. I was done being the confused bride caught between twins. I slipped both the clipping and the photograph into my notebook, hidin