The Heiress’s Secret Twin

Natalia’s POV “Somebody help me! Please!!” I yelled as I slammed my hands against the door. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” Desperately hoping that someone would hear me amidst all the chaos downstairs. I twisted the door knob. Wrangling it over and over again. But it wouldn’t budge. I threw my entire body at the door, each time with hopes that it would finally open up. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. The door didn’t budge. And no one could hear my screams from upstairs. I was trapped. Someone had locked me inside my very own room. And the house was on fire. *Three months ago It was a normal day at home… My family home was huge and had more rooms and furniture than we actually needed. We had a huge library that had been collecting dust for decades because nobody had the time to use it, except for me, and my little brother Arthur. We had a large dining hall used to host dinner events, and a pianoforte we almost never played, five sitting rooms each for separate occasions, a ballroom with shiny crystal chandeliers to host exquisite parties, and a glasshouse filled with exotic plants. Yet no amount of space or furniture could fill the emptiness in that house. The only place I truly felt peace was the sun room. It was my favorite place in the entire house, surrounded by trees and beautiful flowers, ranging from tulips to stargazer lilies. It was truly a beautiful sight. And most of all, it was peaceful and quiet. No one disturbed my peace over there. And that was exactly why I loved the sun room so much. The plants in the garden still had droplets of water on them from the rain. And the afternoon sunlight reflected into the sun room through the glass windows. Most people wouldn’t care or would probably overlook little details about nature like this. But I did not. Little things people would usually ignore mattered a lot to me. As I took a step back from my canvas to observe the details surrounding it. I dipped my brush into the white paint to adjust the color of the sky from my portrait. It had looked slightly unnatural, and I wanted it to look exactly the way I had imagined in my head. “Perfect” Painting had always been something I was always drawn to as a child. But sadly, I never got the chance to pursue it as a career. It became a hobby I held onto as a source of inspiration. Or rather, an escape. It was the only thing I truly ever had. With painting, l never had to worry about expectations. With painting, there were never responsibilities. With painting, I didn’t have to be Gabriel Sinclair’s daughter. I didn't have to think about endless meetings and societal pressure. I didn’t have to worry about the weight that came with being a Sinclair. I didn’t have to be an heir. With painting, I could simply be myself. My phone rang beside me. I picked it up. It was my best friend Camille. “Are you coming or do you plan on getting engaged to your painting?” I chuckled “I would, if my painting consents to it.” She laughed. “Be there at seven, or I’d show up at your doorstep and personally drag you over there.” “I’ll show up, just so I don’t get kidnapped.” I put down my phone and went back to my portrait. As I dipped my brush into my blue pastel paint, I heard my mother’s voice calling from downstairs. “I’m homeeee” She had arrived early from work. Which was quite unusual. She made her way upstairs, taking off her shoes and blazers as one of her handmaids took her belongings. “Welcome back home, Mum.” She stared at me. Blankly. “Thanks” “You arrived earlier than usual, which is weird." She replied almost immediately. “There is nothing unusual about me returning to my own home.” She stared at me for a while, and my hands caught her attention. “What’s that stain on your hand?” I looked at my hands before staring back at her. “Paint…” “From my canvas.” She sighed. “You’re still painting?” “Yes mum” I replied. “I thought you left that behind already.” She responded with a visibly irritated expression. “I paint once in a while” “Nothing serious” I replied with a forced smile. She stared at me for a while, making it seem like I had done something wrong, even though I hadn’t been doing anything wrong. But maybe I was. Maybe I should have been doing something more substantial with my time. Maybe I should have been more interested in our family business than some silly little painting, I should have been acting more like a Sinclair, and less like a part-time Leonardo da Vinci. But art was the only thing which made me feel alive. It was the only thing I’d genuinely enjoyed doing. And to be honest, if I could, it would be the only thing I would invest my time into making. And I wasn’t going to give up on my dream, at least not now. “Mom!” I immediately snapped out of my thoughts. Arthur was calling out for help from upstairs. “Arthur??” My mom called out to him. His voice came from the sun room. Where I had been painting. I quickly rushed upstairs to see what damage he had caused this time around. On getting to the sun room, it was quite obvious what had happened. Arthur had crashed into my portrait and spilled the paint everywhere. It was all over the floorboards and the curtains too. My brushes were scattered around the room and his clothes had been ruined with the blue paint. He had white paint all over his face and his hands as well. For a second I almost let out a laugh. “What have you done, Arthur?” “You’re going to get us in so much trouble.” He gave me a sober look ““I was only trying to see if I could skate in the room, then I crashed into your painting.” I sighed. “It’s fine” “Let’s get you all cleaned up.” Before we could exit the scene of the crime, my mother came rushing into the room. “Arthur baby, are you fine?” She walked in the room scanning the mess he had made. Arthur hid behind me. “Move” She grabbed his arm with a frown on her face. “What is your problem?” “How many times have I told you to stay away from her and her things?” “I can explain” He protested. I could see the tears starting to build in his eyes. “It was an accident” I replied She directed her gaze back at me with a scowl on her face and I knew all hell was about to break loose. For a second, everywhere was quiet. Then she looked at the state of the room, then Arthur, and then finally at me. “An accident?” “You always have something to say, don’t you?” “I’m sure he didn’t mean to.” I responded. “Of course he didn’t. It’s your painting after all, therefore it’s your mess.” “You get to clean up this mess.” “And I don’t want to see a single paintbrush in this house ever again.” “As for you, I don’t want to see you near Natalia’s things ever again.” She replied, grabbing Arthur’s arm and making her way out of the room. He turned back to me and mouthed the words “sorry.” Arthur could be reckless and annoying at times, but he was still my lovely little brother. Even if she had made it obvious that she loved him more than she loved me, if she even loved me at all. I sighed. As I heard her footsteps recede. I turned back to the room to analyze the complete disaster right in front of me, which was now my job to fix. The painting I had spent my entire day working on was not in ruins and my favorite place in this accursed house looked like a complete disaster. I was just about to begin cleaning when I heard my father’s voice. “Natalia” I turned around and saw him standing by the doorway with his suitcase, wearing his usual black blazers. “Dad” I ran towards him and gave him a tight hug. He had just arrived from work. His eyes went from me to the state of the room. “What happened here?” “A lot.” He stared at me with a faint smile. “Arthur?” I stared at him and we both burst into laughter. “He was skating in the house and accidentally crashed into my painting” “That boy is something else,” he replied. He walked into the room and picked up my painting. “You did this?” “Yes” “It was meant to be a garden” “Well, at least before it got ruined.” He looked at it for a while. “It is beautiful regardless.” “Just like you” I smiled. “Thank you” Hearing my father acknowledge me always made me feel happy in a way words couldn’t explain. It was something he didn’t usually do. I had spent most of my childhood trying to earn his approval. And for that little moment, he wasn’t the wealthy Gabriel Sinclair everyone knew. He was just my father. And I was simply his daughter. “But I hope you know there are far more important things you can spend your time on apart from painting” I already knew where he was heading with that statement. “I’m aware” “There’s a lot you need to learn” I know Dad” “You have a lot of responsibilities” “And a lot of people look up to you.” I sighed. “I understand Dad” “Good” He replied, with an expression I couldn’t quite read. I took one more glance at my painting and the room, the scenery outside and the plants. I knew the peace I felt would only last for so long. My father was less concerned about my talents and more worried about his company. His empire The family name The responsibilities and expectations. Everything I never asked to be given or born into but I got anyway. The things people would die to have. But to me? It felt less like a blessing and more of a burden. “You should start getting prepared.” “For what?” “You will understand soon.” I was confused Get prepared for what?? I could physically feel the pressure build up inside me. I mean, I knew I was the first daughter to Gabriel Sinclair, and by right, the heir to the Sinclair empire. I was expected to carry a lot and a lot was expected of me. But I also knew a lot of those responsibilities didn’t have to weigh on me alone, at least not for now. My father was still alive and could carry out most of the family business. So what did he mean by that statement? I thought to myself as I watched him walk away from the room.