MARRIED TO THE WRONG TWIN

Chapter11 - Confrontation

By the next morning, the Kane penthouse carried the weight of unspoken things. Adrian was quieter than usual at breakfast, his gaze on me lingering too long, sharp enough to slice.

When the doorbell rang, relief flooded me. My parents had come to say their farewells before returning to the estate.

My father clasped Adrian’s hand with a proud smile. “You’ve done well, Kane. She looks settled.”

My mother’s embrace was perfumed and stiff. “Remember, appearances are everything, Elena. Don’t fail us.” Her words carried more warning than warmth.

I nodded, forcing a polite smile, though my insides twisted.

Then came Elara.

She hugged me lightly, her lips brushing my cheek, her voice a whisper for me alone.

“Enjoy playing my role while you can.”

Her eyes gleamed as she pulled back, smiling sweetly at Adrian as though nothing sharp had passed her lips. Then, with a final flutter of her hand, she followed our parents out the door.

After my parents and sister had left, I turned heading to towards the stairs consumed with fear when I saw Adrian staring at me.

He studied me , his eyes unreadable

“Elara,” he said suddenly, using the name that felt heavier every time it left his lips, “do you remember the vineyard in Florence?”

My heart stopped.

Florence?

He leaned back in his chair, expression smooth, deceptively casual. “The one we visited before we were engaged. You insisted on trying every bottle until you nearly fainted.”

My throat went dry. Florence. Vineyard. Engagement. None of those memories were mine.

Elara’s memories. Not mine.

I forced a smile, praying it reached my eyes. “Of course I do. How could I forget?”

His gaze sharpened. “Then tell me—what was the name of the wine you wouldn’t stop drinking?”

The silence stretched.

I gripped the handle of my cup so tightly my knuckles whitened. My mind raced, searching for anything, but there was nothing. Nothing but the roaring panic in my head.

Finally, I whispered, “The name escapes me.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Convenient.”

I dropped my gaze, my pulse frantic. He was testing me. And I was failing.

He rose from his chair with calm precision, circling behind me. I felt the weight of his presence at my back, the heat of suspicion radiating off him.

“Elara,” he said lowly, bending so his lips brushed my ear, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I promise you—” his voice darkened, each word slow, deliberate, “—I will find out the truth.”

A shiver ran through me.

He straightened, his footsteps retreating toward the door. “We’ll continue this later,” he added, leaving me frozen at the table, my tea untouched, my secret trembling on the edge of exposure.