My Secret Twin Sister.

CHAPTER 2

As I tie my bowtie eagerly, my sparkling suit reflecting confidence and majesty in front of the mirror, I feel a rush of anticipation. Here comes the long-awaited day—my wedding day. The talk of the town in the whole city of Atlanta. I can hear the chattering of invited guests and caterers from my room.

To my aging parents, it’s a giant stride toward producing a grandchild. To me, it’s just a mere formality, a means to an end to claim the Duerte Estate.

A knock on the door jolts me back to reality. It’s Nathan, one of my trusted henchmen. Without letting him speak, I command, “Hope Camilla is getting ready, because we have less than four hours before the wedding procession starts.” I glance at my wristwatch while continuing to adjust my tie in front of the mirror.

But the look on Nathan's face says otherwise. Gloomy, head bent downward, he avoids eye contact, telling me that something is wrong.

“What is wrong, Nathan?” I ask, curiosity edging my tone.

“S...Sorry, boss. We found this in her room,” he replies reluctantly, handing over a piece of paper. I furrow my brow, anticipating its contents.

"I can't go ahead with this. My entirety forbids it. I hope you find a place in your heart to forgive me. There is more to this than you think.

Love Camilla.

“Find me that bastard!” I roar in annoyance, smashing the martini glass against the mirror.

Nathan replies with a trembling voice, “Ok, boss.”

“Make sure you comb every nook and cranny of the city and bring that girl to me.”

---

Mary's POV

“Four weeks?” I reply in confusion, barely able to force out the words. My vision spins, and I vomit on the sidewalk from the shock. Few passers-by look at me with empathy.

“A...Are you still there?” Dr. Morgan's voice crackles with unease.

“You are a quack doctor, just like every i***t called a nurse working with you there,” I utter with intense annoyance. “I promise to use the full wrath of the law on you if I lose my mother to your sheer incompetence.”

Who will defend a helpless girl like me? Who will listen to my cry? Even if I had the money to pursue such a fruitless ambition, I’d rather use it to get her a good grave and buy some nice flowers to beautify her graveyard.

All I have to do is follow Alex’s path. All I have to do is get to Garutta Inn as soon as possible. Lateness has its repercussions, and Alex meant every bit of it.

I cut the call and quickly texted Cynthia. I don’t want to break the news to her; she’ll be devastated and sobbing like an infant. I only told her that the doctor said my mother needed some expensive drugs urgently and I was out to get the money. Crying and sobbing won’t help. I have to get the money by all means.

I mount my bike, drifting through the busy streets of Atlanta, overwhelmed by the avalanche of stress from the last 24 hours. From my rancor with Alex leading to our break-up to being woken up in the middle of the night with news of my mother’s health, to Dr. Morgan's unprofessional approach. Lost in thought, I’m suddenly hit by an unknown van. I lose count of how many times I somersaulted with the bike, my head hitting the concrete sidewalk. My vision goes blank.

---

The veil on my face is uncovered, buckets of water are poured on me before I regain consciousness, and the piece of cloth in my mouth, used to prevent me from speaking, is removed.

My head aches, my vision blurred. Initially unable to see clearly, I slowly make out a few hefty men dressed in suits. Their posture and glaring looks are intimidating. The room is large, beautifully adorned with gold and onyx, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the best furniture I’ve ever seen encompass me. This is paradise, and surely the ruler of the earth lives here.

Suddenly, my wandering mind is brought back to reality by a thunderous slap.

“I warned you not to f**k with me!” A handsome young man in a three-piece suit yells, angrily clutching my neck and dragging me closer to his face, lifting my frail body off the floor where I kneel helplessly. The scent from his body is heavenly and must cost a fortune to maintain.

“I…” I stammer, unsure of what to say, using my hands to try and free his clenched fist from my neck but failing. Overpowering and captivating, yet so alluring, my eyes wander in surprise.

“What gave you the audacity to drop a note and escape a few hours before my wedding? To ridicule me in front of my parents and signal to the world that I’m incapable of being the next heir to the Duerte dynasty, thereby tarnishing my years of hard work?” He flares with anger.

“I am not…” I try to speak, but my throat is dry and tasteless from the earlier chokehold. My heart beats rapidly with fear and confusion, thinking of how I ended up here.

Goodness me! I don’t know these people. Can someone explain to them that this is a case of mistaken identity? They must let me go. I need to see Alex. I need to come up with something to save my ailing mother. She’s the only person that matters to me now.

But where is the courage to speak? Surrounded by these mean men in black suits, some wearing black shades concealing their eyes, while others tucked their arms into their suits, looking at me dejectedly. I know what lies beneath those suits could end my life instantly.

They await the next command from their boss, pacing angrily in front of me while I kneel in their midst like a newly purchased slave.

“You know what I lack in this life of sin? Patience. And I’ve been asking the supreme being to give me some,” he says, pulling a cigar from his pocket and having one of his bodyguards light it. He moves closer, bending down to my level, and puffs smoke in my face, staring into my eyes with penetrating greenish eyes, lowering his voice.

“If not," he gnarled with intent.

“ I’d have asked one of those guys over there to fire some rounds of bullet into your skull.” Pointing his two index fingers at my forehead, I can feel the intent behind his piercing gaze.

“Get a pickaxe, chop you into beef on that table over there, drop your pieces into a body bag, and off you go to the bottom of a river where no one will find your remains.” His mean utterances cause sweat to break out all over my body, drenching my already soaked pants, as my eyes open wide in bewilderment.

“But you are very lucky, my dear, that I don’t have the luxury of time,” he utters with intense anger.