Married to the wrong twin, loved by the other のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of something burning.For a moment, panic seized me—old instincts from the penthouse, where the smell of smoke meant Adrian's temper had gotten the better of him again. But then I heard Julian's voice from the kitchen, cursing under his breath, and I relaxed.I padded barefoot down the hallway and found him standing over the stove, holding a smoking pan with a spatula in the other hand. He was wearing only sweatpants, his hair still rumpled from sleep, and there was a smudge of flour on his cheek."What are you doing?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.He turned, his expression sheepish. "Trying to make you breakfast. It's not going well."I looked at the pan, which contained what appeared to be the charred remains of scrambled eggs. "I can see that.""I wanted to do something romantic. You know, like a normal couple. Instead, I'm setting off the smoke alarm." He set the pan down and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm

The private jet touched down at Heathrow just after dawn, the gray English sky pressing down on the tarmac like a held breath. I looked out the window at the sprawling city below—a labyrinth of ancient streets and modern glass—and felt a familiar knot tighten in my stomach.“Kensington is affluent, quiet, and full of people who pay for their privacy,” Julian said beside me, adjusting his cufflinks. He was wearing a charcoal suit, looking every inch the billionaire CEO, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “Natalia won’t make a public scene. She’ll try to isolate us.”“Then we don’t give her the chance,” I replied, smoothing the front of my tailored trench coat. I had worn my hair up, my face devoid of emotion. Today, I wasn't the traumatized wife or the rescued heiress. Today, I was a strategist.Marcus and Victoria were already in the city. Victoria had spent the last forty-eight hours staking out the Kensington townhouse, noting Natalia’s schedule. Marcus was coordinating w

London left invisible scars.We returned to New York a week later, but the penthouse no longer felt like a sanctuary. The windows were too large, the shadows too deep. Every time a car backfired on the street below, my heart seized. Every time the elevator chimed, I braced myself for a monster to step through the doors.Julian noticed. He noticed everything."I'm fine," I said for the hundredth time, standing by the window and watching the city lights blur through the rain."You haven't slept more than three hours a night since we left Kensington," Julian said quietly from the armchair. He had dark circles under his own eyes. The scar above his eyebrow seemed more pronounced in the dim light. "You flinch when I touch your shoulder. You check the locks three times before you sit down."I turned away from the glass. "How could I not? The cartel was in my bedroom, Julian. They had a gun to my chest. I can't just switch that off.""I know." He stood up and crossed the room, stopping a few

The world tilted on its axis.Julian stood frozen just inside the doorway, his face pale, his hands trembling at his sides. I reached for him, my fingers wrapping around his arm, but he didn't seem to feel it. His eyes were locked on Astrid Voss, on the truth she had just dropped at our feet."Not who we think we are," Julian repeated, his voice hollow. "What does that mean?"Astrid stepped back, gesturing for us to sit. The cottage was warm and smelled of lavender and old wood. A fire crackled in the hearth. It should have felt safe. It didn't.She lowered herself into a worn armchair, her eyes never leaving Julian's face. "I was your mother's private nurse," she began, her voice thick with a German accent. "I was with her through her entire pregnancy. I was in the delivery room when she gave birth to you and Adrian.""Twins," Julian said. "Born on a stormy night in July.""Yes." Astrid's expression darkened. "But what you don't know is why Richard Blackwood was so desperate for heir

I left them alone.It wasn't my place to stand between a mother and the son she had lost twenty-eight years ago. I stepped out into the cobblestone street, the Provençal sun warm on my face, and waited. Through the shop window, I could see them—Marguerite tentatively reaching for Julian's hand, Julian standing rigid before finally, slowly, accepting the touch.An hour passed. Then two. I bought a coffee from a nearby café and sat on a stone bench, watching the town wake up around me. It was peaceful here—far from the penthouses and courtrooms and the shadow of the Blackwood name.When Julian finally emerged, his eyes were red-rimmed, but there was something lighter in his face. Something that hadn't been there before."She wants to meet you," he said, his voice rough. "Properly."I nodded and followed him back inside.---Marguerite had set out tea in a small back room behind the shop, surrounded by half-finished floral arrangements. She had composed herself, though her hands still tr