The heir's Disguise

chapter 2- Eyes That See Too Much

Chapter 2 — Eyes That See Too Much

The words hung in the air like a g*n c*****g in a silent room.

“That’s not him.”

My pulse hammered so hard I could hear it in my ears. I forced myself not to react—Lucas wouldn’t flinch. Lucas never flinched.

Slowly, I looked toward the voice.

It belonged to a woman in a crimson silk blouse, her dark hair twisted into a perfect chignon. Her eyes—sharp, amused—locked with mine as though she’d been waiting for me to notice her.

“I’m sorry?” I said, making sure my tone carried just the right edge of arrogance.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with deliberate grace. “I said… that’s not your usual tie.”

A ripple of polite laughter moved around the table. My lungs unclenched—just barely.

Lucas had his quirks. Wearing the same brand and style of tie for every major meeting was one of them. I’d grabbed one from his closet without realizing it was the “wrong” one.

“Maybe I was bored,” I said flatly, clicking my pen and scanning the agenda as though the topic bored me already.

The woman smiled like a cat that had just learned a new trick. “Well, boredom doesn’t suit you.”

Before I could answer, Ethan’s voice cut across the room. “Shall we begin?” He didn’t look at me, but the warning in his tone was loud enough.

---

The meeting was a blur of numbers, merger updates, and corporate jargon that made my head ache. I’d spent years listening to Lucas talk about the company, but being in his chair, pretending to know every figure and forecast, was like walking a tightrope over fire.

Ethan sat two seats down, his gaze flicking to me every time I hesitated. Twice, he slid subtle notes across the table with bullet-point reminders—share price here, new project there. Without him, I’d have been burned alive within the first hour.

By the end, my throat was dry, my palms damp. But no one had called me out. No one except Crimson Blouse.

---

“Her name’s Marissa Hale,” Ethan said the moment we stepped into the elevator.

I exhaled slowly, leaning against the mirrored wall. “She knew something was off.”

“She knew you weren’t wearing Lucas’s usual tie,” he corrected. “That’s different.”

“It’s not different if she keeps looking for other things,” I shot back.

He pressed the elevator button for the penthouse. “Then we make sure she doesn’t find them.”

---

The moment we stepped into Lucas’s apartment, Ethan pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it on the couch. The move was so casual, so familiar, it made my stomach tighten. I hated that I noticed.

“You need training,” he said. “If you’re going to fool people for more than a day, you have to be Lucas in every movement, every word, every expression.”

I bristled. “I’ve been pretending to be my twin since grade school. I can handle this.”

“Grade school doesn’t have corporate spies and billion-dollar deals on the line.” He stepped closer, his height casting me in shadow. “Don’t take this lightly, Lena. Whoever put Lucas in that hospital might already suspect you.”

A chill rippled through me. “And what if they do?”

“Then they’ll try again. And next time, they won’t miss.”

---

The training began immediately.

Ethan made me mimic Lucas’s stride—slower, more deliberate, like every step was calculated. He made me sit at the dining table for hours, answering mock boardroom questions in his voice, correcting me every time I softened my tone.

And then there was the eye contact. Lucas’s stare was a weapon. Ethan had me practice holding his gaze without blinking.

“Again,” he ordered for the fifth time.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.

“Ridiculous is thinking you can pull this off without commitment.” His lips twitched. “Come on, Lena. Scare me.”

So I did. I let every drop of fear, anger, and desperation bleed into my stare until his smirk faded. For just a second, I saw something shift in his eyes—recognition, maybe even respect.

“Better,” he murmured.

---

That night, exhaustion pulled at me like lead, but sleep was impossible. I kept seeing Lucas in that hospital bed. Kept hearing Ethan’s voice telling me someone might try again.

I was still awake at 2 a.m. when I heard the faint scrape of a key in the apartment door.

My breath caught. Ethan was asleep in the guest room—I’d heard his door close hours ago.

Footsteps moved softly across the hardwood floor.

I grabbed the nearest object—a heavy glass paperweight from Lucas’s desk—and crept toward the sound.

The living room was dark, shadows stretching long across the floor. A figure stood by the window, silhouetted against the city lights.

“Who’s there?” My voice was sharp, steady.

The figure turned slowly.

It was Marissa Hale.

And she was smiling.

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