MARRIED TO THE WRONG TWIN

Chapter 8 – The Family’s Return

The echo of Adrian’s words still rang in my ears.

If you ever lie to me… I’ll know.

I could barely swallow the coffee that morning. My hands trembled as I cleared my plate, desperate to escape his eyes, his questions, his quiet threats.

But escape never came.

The maid appeared in the doorway, her face pale. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance… and Miss Elara Vance.”

My heart stopped.

⸻

My mother swept into the penthouse first, pearls gleaming, her perfume announcing her even before her words did. “Elara, darling!” she cried, rushing forward to kiss my cheek.

Behind her came my father, tall, stiff, proud, with that same critical gaze that had always made me shrink. “Adrian,” he said with a firm handshake, “our Elara has done well. A Kane marriage suits her.”

But it was the last figure through the door that stole the air from my lungs.

Elara.

My twin.

My curse.

She leaned lazily against the doorframe, a smirk playing across her lips. Her eyes—my eyes—glittered with cruel amusement as they met mine.

“Well, sister,” she said softly, her voice a blade wrapped in velvet. “You’ve certainly settled in.”

⸻

We sat together in the living room, silver trays of tea between us. My mother fussed over my hair, my father bragged about the Kane fortune as if it belonged to him, and Adrian played the gracious host.

But Elara never stopped watching me. Her gaze was sharp, merciless, as though she was peeling away the layers of my skin to expose what lay beneath.

Finally, she spoke. “She’s changed.”

The room hushed. Adrian’s eyes shifted to me instantly, sharp, probing.

My mother blinked. “Changed? In what way?”

Elara tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Our Elara was bold. Loud. Careless. She’d never sit quietly like this, smiling politely. Now she acts like a stranger wearing her skin.”

Heat flooded my face. My grip on the teacup tightened. “Marriage mellows people,” I said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Perhaps I’ve grown up.”

My father chuckled, clapping Adrian on the back. “Exactly. A husband tames a woman. Nothing strange about that.”

But Elara didn’t smile. She just stared at me, eyes glittering with something darker than jealousy.

And Adrian—he didn’t laugh either. His gaze lingered, calculating, as though Elara’s words had confirmed a suspicion already growing inside him.

⸻

When my parents stepped onto the balcony to admire the skyline, I slipped into the hallway, my chest tight, my breaths shallow.

But I wasn’t alone.

Elara emerged from the shadows, her smile cruel.

“You’re living my life,” she whispered. “Sleeping in my bed. Wearing my ring. Pretending to be me.”

Her words pierced me, each one heavier than the last.

She leaned closer, her breath brushing my cheek. “But don’t get comfortable, Elena. Because I didn’t abandon all of this… just to watch you steal it. When I decide I want it back—” her smile sharpened—“you won’t stand a chance.”