Torn by my wife's twin

CHAPTER 5

Lana POV

I remembered the strange dream I had last night as I stepped into the shower this morning. Sleep had been short—just a few hours after my shift at the Delacroix.

When I faced the mirror, I cursed softly under my breath. The dark circles beneath my eyes made me look more like a zombie than like my beautiful twin sister.

This was ridiculous. No matter how many times I thought about it, there was no way I could transform myself into her. Sure, we shared the same face, but inside we were worlds apart. She was a woman with class. I was just a poor woman scraping by, clueless about how the rich lived.

I doubted I could last a single day in that mansion without humiliating myself.

The etiquette issues were the least of my concerns. What really bothered me was having to live with her husband—Artemis Quinn. I didn’t know how to act around him. I’d never even dated before, and the thought of sharing a home with a man, especially a man like him, was terrifying.

How had Luna gotten so lucky? She was married to a man who was handsome, rich, successful—everything women dreamed of—and still she had a fling with another man.

We agreed to meet again today to discuss the details. I had tossed and turned all night, my brain refusing to rest.

I tied my long hair into a ponytail and pulled on my most comfortable outfit: a plain white T-shirt and jeans. With the pressure already weighing on me, I needed to feel at least somewhat comfortable in my own skin.

Before leaving home, I prepared breakfast for Mom—a simple chicken sandwich I heated from the fridge. I left her a note saying I’d be out with friends so she wouldn’t worry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Luna yet. I had no idea how she’d react if she knew I’d run into my twin last night.

Luna had texted me the name of a restaurant. I grabbed a taxi—waiting for the bus would’ve taken forever.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived.

There she was, sitting by the window, sipping coffee with that effortless elegance of hers. She wore an off-shoulder floral dress that probably cost more than I made in a month.

I paused, stunned. How could I ever be like her?

She smiled when she saw me and waved me over.

“Sorry, did I make you wait? Traffic was awful,” I said as I slid into the seat.

She shook her head. “I just got here too.” Then she motioned for me to order.

Truth was, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since last night—the bar was packed, and dinner hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was scanning the menu when she spoke up.

“You should try their croissant. It’s to die for. I’d order one too if I weren’t on a diet.”

Really? How was I supposed to eat comfortably after that? She was thinner than me already, and yet she was dieting.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re way skinnier than me,” I said, snapping the menu shut.

She chuckled. “I’m preparing my bikini body for Paris. But don’t worry—you don’t need to diet. You look fine.”

I huffed quietly, unconvinced.

Then she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “And besides… Artemis likes his women curvy.”

Heat crept into my face. How could she be so blunt?

“That’s not my problem. You make it sound like you’re sending me to sleep with your husband,” I retorted, folding my arms.

She burst out laughing. But when the laughter faded, her eyes sharpened. “A kiss on the cheek is the limit. Nothing more. Remember… he’s not your husband.”

The wicked smile that followed made her look more devil than sister.

Still… a kiss on the cheek wasn’t so bad. Like shaking hands. Harmless.

“Deal. I’ve got no intention of doing anything else,” I said confidently. Deep down, though, I wondered—would I really be able to resist Artemis Quinn?

“Good,” she said brightly. “Then we’ll start your transformation today.” She looked almost too excited. Did she even love him?

Such a pity. To the world, their marriage was a fairy tale. Up close, it was cracked and rotten.

In the end, she insisted I order the croissant anyway.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as she drove. We were in her Porsche, sleek and gleaming. I tried to play it cool, but my fingers itched to press all the buttons.

It was my first time in a car like this.

A sharp pang hit me. What if I had been the one left at the orphanage instead of her? Would I be the one driving the Porsche now? I didn’t even need that. Maybe I’d just have gotten into college. Maybe I’d be sketching designs, chasing the dream I once had.

Stop it, Lana. Don’t go there.

“We’re going for a makeover,” Luna said as she parked in front of a salon. “We don’t have much time.”

She tugged me out of the car and ushered me inside.

“Luna, darling!” A man in a deep purple shirt rushed to her, black sunglasses perched on his head like a crown.

“Peter, I need your help,” she said, kissing his cheeks.

“With a face like yours? You don’t need my help,” he teased.

“Not me. Her.” Luna stepped aside. His gaze landed on me, and he gasped.

“This is impossible! Two Lunas?”

“Peter, you’re my friend. This stays between us,” she said firmly.

“You never told me you had a twin,” he stammered, staring between us.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later. Right now, we’re on a mission.”

She pushed me into a chair before the massive mirror. Our twin reflections stared back.

“I want you to turn her into me.” The smirk that curved her lips sent chills down my spine.

Peter leaned in, lowering his voice. “What kind of game are you playing, Luna?”

“Just do as I say.” She was already on her phone, laughing with Marcus.

Peter hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But I’ll need permission to cut your hair.”

Luna’s chic bob framed her face perfectly. My own hair hung long and brittle, washed with nothing but cheap shampoo.

“Go ahead,” I muttered. “It’s just hair.”

He set to work. Scissors snipped, blow-dryers hummed, curling rods hissed. The salon smelled of citrus and lavender, the atmosphere plush and expensive.

I sneaked glances at Luna’s reflection—her lips curled in laughter as she whispered into her phone. Marcus, no doubt.

Peter worked tirelessly. Not just cutting, but perming, styling, reshaping. He gave me big, natural waves. He polished my nails until they gleamed.

So this was what it felt like to be pampered. To be cared for. To be transformed.

When he was finally done, I stared at the mirror in shock. The face looking back wasn’t mine.

It was hers.

“Peter, you’re a genius!” Luna cried, hugging him before flashing her sleek black credit card—Artemis’s, I was sure.

Later, we sat together for lunch. She had her Caesar salad; I ordered pasta. Maybe I should learn to eat grass like her.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. And sit up straight,” she scolded, rubbing her temples.

I swallowed quickly. “But you asked me a question. Isn’t it rude not to answer?”

She groaned.

“Anyway… can you move in today?”

I choked, coughing until she patted my back and handed me water.

“Today? Why so soon?”

“Marcus just called. He already bought tickets. We leave for Paris tomorrow morning.”

“But—I haven’t told Mom yet,” I said desperately.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”