Married to My Twin’s Husband

Chapter 6: Stealing from the Beast

I held my breath, my body completely paralyzed with fear as I stared at the dark silhouette blocking the light beneath the master bedroom door.

My heart was pounding so violently against my ribs that I was certain Julian could hear it from the hallway. Vivian's phone lay on the plush carpet just inches from my feet, its screen still faintly glowing with the notification of the disconnected call.

If Julian had heard me shouting my own name Elena into the receiver, the game was over. The fragile illusion would shatter, and my family would be delivered straight into his ruthless hands.

With trembling fingers, I frantically scooped up the phone and shoved it deep beneath the mattress. I scrambled back onto the massive king sized bed, pulling the heavy silk comforter up to my chest just as the heavy brass doorknob began to turn.

The door swung open with a quiet, agonizing click.

Julian stepped into the room. He had finally discarded his tuxedo jacket, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled loosely up to his forearms. He looked devastatingly handsome, but the sheer aura of dominance he radiated made the vast bedroom feel suddenly microscopic.

His pitch black eyes swept across the darkened space before instantly locking onto me.

"You're awake," Julian noted, his deep baritone cutting through the silence like a razor blade. He walked over to the side of the bed, his tall, imposing figure casting a long shadow over me.

"I... I couldn't sleep," I whispered, my voice thick with the remnants of my unshed tears. I forced myself to sit up, keeping my face partially obscured by the shadows of the canopy. "The gala was overwhelming. I just needed some air."

Julian didn't answer immediately. He leaned down, resting one large hand on the mattress right next to my hip. The bed dipped under his immense weight, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. The scent of his cologne woodsmoke and sharp mint flooded my senses, instantly triggering a phantom rush of the electric heat we had shared on the balcony.

He reached out, his warm fingers catching my jawline and forcing me to tilt my head up into the dim moonlight filtering through the windows.

His thumb swept across my cheekbone, catching a stray tear I hadn't managed to wipe away.

Julian’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure, calculating suspicion. "You've been crying, Vivian. The woman I know doesn't cry over a high society party. She thrives on the attention. She doesn't lock herself in a dark room and weep like a frightened child."

I clenched my teeth underneath the blanket, forcing Vivian's trademark haughtiness into my expression despite the terror clawing at my throat. "People change, Julian. Maybe I’m finally realizing the gravity of being locked into a loveless contract with a man who looks at me like an investment rather than a wife."

Julian stared at my lips for a fraction of a second, his grip on my jaw softening just enough to feel entirely too intimate. A dark, unreadable emotion crossed his features before his expression shifted back into its usual freezing, impenetrable mask.

"Do not mistake my suspicion for a lack of care, Vivian," he murmured dangerously, his breath brushing against my skin. "But remember your place. If you are hiding something from me, it will eventually come to light.

Sleep. We have a long week ahead of us."

He pulled his hand away and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. I collapsed back onto the pillows, letting out a ragged, suffocating sob.

He hadn't heard the phone call, but I was running out of time. Five million dollars. Five days. The deadline was a ticking time bomb.

The next morning, fortune threw me a desperate, lethal lifeline.

"I have an emergency board meeting at our downtown headquarters," Julian announced at the breakfast table, his eyes never leaving the glowing screen of his tablet. He looked impeccably sharp in a tailored charcoal suit, the very picture of an apex predator ruling his corporate empire. "I will be gone for the entire afternoon. Do not leave the estate, Vivian. My security detail has strict orders to monitor your movements."

"I understand. I'll just stay in the library and read," I replied smoothly, taking a slow sip of my tea to hide the violent tremor in my hands.

The moment Julian’s luxury convoy rolled past the towering iron gates of the mansion, my countdown began.

I waited for two agonizing hours to ensure the household staff were occupied with their afternoon cleaning duties in the far eastern wing of the estate. Then, with my palms sweating and my lungs screaming for oxygen, I slipped out of the master suite and crept down the silent, restricted western corridor.

My destination was the one room in the entire fortress that was strictly forbidden: Julian’s private study.

The heavy mahogany door loomed before me like the entrance to a dragon's vault. It was protected by a high tech biometric lock, but my father had secretly told me during our panicked dressing room meeting that Julian utilized a manual master key code for the house system during corporate overrides.

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to visualize the exact sequence of numbers my father had memorized from a previous business merger.

With shaking fingers, I pressed the digits into the glowing digital keypad: 0-7-1-1.

Click.

The heavy lock disengaged with a soft, mechanical sigh. My heart leaped straight into my throat as I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the dim, quiet room, closing it securely behind me.

The study was vast, suffocatingly masculine, and heavily saturated with Julian’s presence. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating a massive desk carved from solid black walnut. On the wall behind it sat a towering steel safe and a wall of monitors displaying real time global stock markets.

I rushed toward the desk, my knees shaking violently beneath Vivian's silk sundress. I knew physical cash wasn't an option; five million dollars couldn't be carried out in a briefcase. I needed Julian’s private financial tokens the secure, encrypted hardware drives and private account ledgers he used to authorize massive offshore wire transfers.

Vivian had once bragged to our mother that Julian kept his private liquidity codes hidden in a concealed compartment beneath his lower desk drawer.

I dropped to my knees behind the massive desk, my fingers frantically scratching at the dark wood panels, searching for any break in the seam. Come on, come on, Elena, think! My breath was shallow, and sweat beaded along my collarbone.

After three agonizing minutes of clawing at the wood, my thumb hit a small, hidden latch beneath the molding. Snap. A false panel slid back, revealing a heavy, leather-bound ledger stamped with the gold Vance corporate seal, alongside a glowing silver encryption token.

Tears of pure adrenaline and relief blurred my vision. I pulled the heavy ledger out and flipped it open across the desk, my eyes scanning the complex columns of bank routing numbers and corporate liquid assets.

If I could copy just one of the untraceable offshore account codes, I could send the data to Vivian’s contact and end this nightmare once and for all.

I pulled my phone out, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped it onto the floor. I aimed the camera at the first page of the ledger, trying to keep the lens steady.

Click.

The sound of the digital camera shutter felt as loud as a thunderclap in the silent, suffocating office. I quickly turned the page, my heart pounding in my ears so loudly that it completely drowned out the subtle sounds of the house around me. I needed one more page. Just one more clear photo of the authorization codes

Suddenly, a cold, heavy shadow fell across the desk.

The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute freezing in an instant. A sudden draft of wind swept through the study, carrying with it the unmistakable, terrifying scent of woodsmoke and sharp mint.

Before I could even blink, a massive, powerful hand slammed down onto the open ledger, pinning the leather book firmly to the desk. The sheer force of the impact rattled the silver pens in their holder and shook the wood beneath my fingers.

My breath completely vanished from my lungs. My blood turned to pure, unadulterated ice.

I slowly, terrifyingly raised my eyes, my gaze climbing past a broad chest and a perfectly knotted tie.

Standing on the other side of the desk, towering over me like a furious god of ruin, was Julian Vance. His charcoal suit jacket was unbuttoned, his jawline clenched so tightly a vein throbbed violently in his temple, and his pitch-black eyes were burning with a dark, lethal fury that promised absolute destruction.

He hadn't gone to the headquarters. Or worse he had set a trap, and I had walked right into it.

"Looking for something, Vivian?" Julian whispered, his deep baritone dropping into a deadly, gravelly register that shook my very soul.