A Year In The Wrong Twin's Bed

Chapter 2

That afternoon, I didn't go back to the gilded cage he'd kept me in for three years. I went to a dingy internet cafe. Logged onto the dark web. And did two things, clean and simple.

First, I booked an appointment at a black-market clinic. No questions asked. For an abortion.

Second, I bought a one-way ticket to France. Departure: seven days from now. The exact moment the city's biggest joke of a wedding was supposed to start.

Valeria wanted to make a fool of me in front of everyone? Fine. I'll be a runaway bride. Let the great CEO face his "wedding of the century" all by himself. Without a bride.

Of course, I wasn't going to waste these last seven days. Marcello was doubling my allowance. I was going to bleed him dry one last time.

Back at the penthouse, I locked my bedroom door. I pulled back the fake Renaissance painting on the wall. Behind it was a hidden safe. Looking at the stacks of cash and gold bars, my cold heart felt a flicker of courage.

I always knew. For a girl from the slums with a gambling father, love is an illusion. Money and self-reliance are the only things you can trust. I had to stay clear-eyed and independent to survive.

I had Valeria to thank for that lesson.

We went to the same university. In her world, poor people's lives were just toys. I once saw her force a debtor's daughter to play Russian roulette. Right in front of me.

"Pull the trigger, or die." Valeria sat on the sofa, smiling like the devil.

The girl pulled the trigger. Her brains splattered everywhere. And Valeria clapped and laughed with glee.

Meanwhile, I was forging three paintings a day to pay off my deadbeat father's debts. Me, clawing my way out of the mud to survive. It became her new favorite show. I was her new prey.

So she had Marcello—heir to the billionaire empire back then—sweep in like a savior at the casino.

"Her debt is mine now." Marcello threw stacks of cash at the loan sharks and held out his hand to me. It was a scene straight out of a movie.

Too bad I don't believe in fairy tales.

While we were "dating," I could feel it. He looked at me like I was a cheap piece of art on display. Always looking down on me. His act was so sloppy. He was playing a part. I just didn't know why.

Our worlds were miles apart, but he spent money like water. I decided to test him. Before his birthday, I linked my arm in his, pointed at a display window, and acted shy. "Marcello, could you buy me that necklace?"

A flash of triumphant contempt crossed his eyes. He thought he had me. Thought I was finally hooked, ready to be his little parasite.

So the next day, he dumped me without a second thought. He waited with a smug smirk, expecting me to break down and cry.

But he never would've guessed—I never wore any of the priceless jewelry he gave me. The moment his back was turned, I'd sold it all on the black market for a fortune.

After we broke up, I just cut back from three forgery jobs a day to two. I still ate at the cheapest food truck on the corner. I even splurged on extra chili and cheese. After a month, not only had I not fallen apart, I'd actually gained five pounds.

I heard it completely ruined Valeria's fun. She was so mad she trashed her entire room.

Until my goddamn father racked up another life-or-death debt with an underground casino. This time, I had no way out. I truly became the CEO's fiancée on paper.

I planned to just endure it. But at the start of this year, things changed.

The old Marcello, the germaphobe who refused to kiss me, was suddenly a different man. He'd press me against the floor-to-ceiling windows at night, kissing me. Rough and hot. He introduced me to all kinds of dangerous pleasures. On my birthday, he bought out the entire Chicago skyline and set off fireworks all night long.

The most dangerous part? He stopped using protection. He'd whisper in my ear, his eyes full of love, and propose. "My sweet girl, marry me. Have my baby."

His words were so convincing. I actually started to believe the ridiculous idea of having a child with him.

But now I see it all so clearly. The man who held me, who tangled with me in bed, who was so tender—it was never Marcello. It was his twin brother, Carmine! Using his brother's face to get off. To play his sick little game.

My stomach lurched. I ran to the bathroom and retched into the sink.

These two brothers. With their identical faces. What the hell did they think I was?

I looked up, staring at my own pale face in the mirror. I would never surrender to this fake love. Whether I have this baby or not, I'm done. Done with Marcello, and done with his goddamn twin brother.