Chapter3
1308 Words
Dawn light filtered through Lucia's bedroom window, turning everything pale and ghostly. Elena stood in front of the full-length mirror, barely recognizing herself.
Lucia's silk blouse clung to her frame. The designer jeans fit perfectly despite being her sister's size. She'd spent an hour on makeup, following a tutorial from Lucia's phone—smoky eyes, contouring, lipstick in a shade called "Bad Decision."
She looked like Lucia. Almost.
"Hi, I'm Lucia Rivera." Her voice came out flat, lifeless. Nothing like her sister's breathy charm.
Elena closed her eyes. Remembered Lucia at parties, touching people's arms while she talked, laughing too loud, making everyone feel special even when she was lying. She tried again, adding a smile, tilting her head.
"Hi, I'm Lucia. So excited to finally meet you!"
Better. Still wrong, but better.
Her phone showed 6:47 AM. She hadn't slept.
She pulled up her bank account on her phone, even though she'd checked it a dozen times already.
Savings: $3,247.68
She'd spent the early morning hours calling everyone she knew. Rebecca could lend $500. Her boss had stammered awkwardly before hanging up. Her cousin didn't answer.
Total she could scrape together: $6,000.
She needed $250,000 by tomorrow night.
The math was impossible, and Santos knew it. He'd raised the debt not because he thought she could pay, but to trap her. To make sure she'd go through with marrying Damien Cross.
Elena's stomach twisted. She'd considered calling the police twenty times. But Santos had been careful—vague threats, no explicit violence, no witnesses. And Lucia had signed those loan documents. The police might charge her sister with fraud.
The marriage contract sat on the nightstand. $200,000 upon marriage.
All she had to do was commit identity theft and marry a stranger.
The front door opened. Elena jumped.
"Jesus!" Jen stumbled in, still wearing last night's clothes. She froze when she saw Elena. "Lucia?"
Elena's heart stopped.
"Wait." Jen stepped closer, squinting. "Elena? Oh my God, I thought—you look exactly like her."
"That's the point." Elena's voice shook.
"You're really doing this." Jen collapsed on the destroyed couch. "This is insane."
"I know."
"Tell me about the meetings. The ones Lucia had with Damien Cross."
Jen shrugged. "Only two. Super formal. Lawyers everywhere. Lucia said he barely looked at her. Just signed papers and left. She was pissed—said he treated her like furniture."
Good. If Damien hadn't paid attention, he wouldn't notice the switch.
"What else did Lucia say about him?"
"Hot but cold. No small talk. Just business." Jen's expression turned sympathetic. "But Elena, he's a billionaire. He's got resources, investigators. What if he figures it out?"
"He won't." The words felt hollow. "This is just business for him. As long as I play the part, he won't look too closely."
"And if you're wrong?"
Elena didn't answer.
She spent hours studying Lucia's journal. Her sister's handwriting filled page after page—complaints about dates, observations about fashion, celebrity gossip. Lucia was shallow and magnetic. She laughed easily, touched people constantly, commanded attention without trying.
Elena practiced in the mirror until her face hurt. Different laughs—the polite titter, the genuine belly laugh, the flirtatious giggle. Lucia's walk in heels, one hip c****d. The way she tossed her hair. The gestures.
By afternoon, when she caught her reflection unexpectedly, she gasped.
That was Lucia staring back.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
“Lucia Rivera?” A woman’s voice — bright, professional.
Elena froze. “No—Ye-Yes?” she stammered, blurting it out before she could stop herself, wondering why someone was calling her by her sister’s name.
“This is Monica from Blissful Beginnings. Just confirming your dress fitting tomorrow at 2 p.m.?”
Her mind went blank. Then it hit her. Be Lucia.
She forced her voice higher, breathier. “Oh my gosh, yes! I’m so excited!”
“Wonderful! We were a little worried since we hadn’t heard back. We tried your other line but then I realized you’d given us this second number—just in case. Everything okay?”
Wow. Just wow.
Lucia had thought of everything — right down to setting her up for this call.
“Totally fine! Just wedding jitters!”
The giggle that followed made Elena want to die inside, but Monica seemed satisfied.
"Great! See you at 2. Oh, and the ceremony starts promptly at 4 PM Saturday. Mr. Cross's assistant was very clear about timing. Don't be late."
"I won't be. Promise!"
When Elena hung up, her hands trembled. She'd done it. Sounded exactly like Lucia. Monica hadn't suspected anything.
This might actually work.
Heavy footsteps in the hallway outside made her freeze. Multiple people. They stopped outside Lucia's door.
Elena held her breath.
After an eternity, the footsteps moved on. But fear settled into her bones and stayed there.
She couldn't stay here. Whoever ransacked the apartment might return. And she couldn't go home—Santos knew that address.
Elena packed everything into two suitcases. Lucia's clothes, makeup, jewelry, wedding documents. She locked the door behind her without looking back.
At her own apartment, she called her boss. The lie came easier than expected. Family emergency. Sister in crisis. Two weeks off.
Mr. Morrison granted it reluctantly. Two weeks maximum.
By then, she'd either be married or dead.
She transferred her last available credit—$500 cash advance for emergencies. Every decision felt like digging her grave deeper.
One more practice in the mirror. "Hi, I'm Lucia Rivera. So excited to meet you!"
The smile looked desperate. She tried again, channeling Lucia's confidence. Imagining she was someone the world automatically loved.
"Hi, I'm Lucia Rivera. So excited to meet you!"
Better. She could do this.
Elena picked up her phone to text Lucia one final time.
I'm doing something insane. If you ever cared about me, stay hidden and quiet. I'm taking your place at the wedding. I'm marrying Damien Cross.
She hit send.
Immediately, her phone buzzed. But not from Lucia.
Good luck, little bride. You'll need it. - G.S.
Her blood turned to ice.
Santos knew. He'd been watching, tracking her, probably tapping Lucia's phone. He knew everything.
And he was allowing it.
Another text: I'll be watching. Don't even think about running.
Then a photo loaded.
Elena's hands shook so violently she nearly dropped the phone.
It was her. Tonight. Through Lucia’s apartment window. Practicing Lucia's smile in the mirror, completely unaware someone was photographing her.
How long had they been watching?
A third text: See you after the wedding, Mrs. Cross. You're going to make me very happy.
Elena sank to the floor, her back against the wall. She couldn't breathe. Santos wasn't just allowing this—he was counting on it. He'd let her marry Damien, collect the money, then blackmail her over and over again.
She wasn't escaping. Just buying time.
But time was all she had.
Elena forced herself to stand. She grabbed her suitcases and walked out, locking the door behind her. She'd booked a cheap hotel across town. Somewhere to hide for the next thirty-six hours.
In the elevator, Lucia's face stared back from the polished doors.
"You can do this," she whispered. "You have to."
Thirty-six hours until she walked down an aisle toward a stranger, wearing her sister's face.
Thirty-six hours until she became someone else entirely.
Elena loaded her suitcases and drove away from her apartment, her old life, everything she knew.
In the rearview mirror, a dark sedan pulled out behind her. Tinted windows. It followed every turn she made.
Santos's people. Making sure she didn't run.
Elena's hands tightened on the steering wheel. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't let them fall.
Right now, she had a role to study. A sister to become. A fraud to perfect.
She had thirty-six hours to disappear.
- Writer
