My Husband Stole the Identity of his twin brother to ruin me

On the other end of the line, my brother’s voice shot up in panic. “Victoria! What the hell are you talking about? What’s going on? Tell me what happened. Is this because of Hunter? If you’re going to waste your life over that man, then you’re a damn fool. He’s dead. And even if he wasn’t… he doesn’t deserve you.”

“He is not dead,” I whispered, every word heavy with fury and grief.

There was a pause—long enough for me to hear his sharp intake of breath. “What do you mean he’s not dead?”

“I mean exactly what I said,” I bit out. “Hunter is alive. He faked his death, Martin.”

His voice lowered, careful but edged. “Do you want me to come get you? I’ll pull you out of there. You can find someone else—someone who actually gives a damn. Forget him. I’ll help you with the baby—”

I swallowed hard, the ache in my throat almost unbearable. “So… you knew what was happening to me all this time?”

“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation. “We might’ve parted ways after you married him, but I never stopped looking out for you. I’ve always been watching from a distance, Vic.”

Tears blurred my vision. “Then help me,” I said, my voice trembling but laced with steel. “Help me fake my death. Let him feel exactly what he made me feel.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of his breathing. Then Martin spoke, voice hard with resolve. “Give me one week. I’ll arrange everything. I’ll come for you.”

I dropped the phone onto the bed, my hands shaking. I didn’t move for hours—just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind drowning in memories and betrayal.

When morning came, I hadn’t slept a second.

The knock at the door startled me. Before I could answer, Harold—no, Hunter—stepped inside, his expression deliberately gentle.

“Victoria,” he said, “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have let things get so out of hand.” His voice softened further. “I’ll go with you to the police station today. We’ll check for any updates about your baby. And after that, I’ll take you to the hospital to get you checked, okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just stared at him, trying to reconcile the man in front of me with the man who had once sworn to love me forever.

I was about to stand when a voice floated in from the hallway—Alicia’s voice.

“Harold, love,” she called, feigning weakness, “my head is spinning… I need your help.”

Then came a sound that froze every drop of blood in my veins.

A baby’s cry. Not just any cry—it was the thin, desperate wail of an infant.

Hunter’s head whipped toward the door, and without a second glance at me, he hurried out, his footsteps quick.

My chest constricted so tightly I could barely breathe. He ran to her. To Alicia. To the baby.

And my baby… my baby was gone.

I gripped the edge of the bed, my mind spinning back to the first time I’d met Hunter. He’d been standing at the edge of the community park, the late summer sun turning his brown hair to gold. I got him first. I liked him first. I told Alicia about him, thinking she would be happy for me. She had smiled, nodded, even teased me for blushing whenever his name came up.

I never imagined that months later, I’d catch them together. Dating. Laughing. Holding hands. I never asked her about it. I never confronted him. I told myself I was being supportive, that maybe this was how love worked—messy, tangled, forgiving.

Then Alicia left—five years gone to chase her dreams—while I stayed, building a life with him.

And now… she was back. And she had a baby with him.

I pressed my palm to my stomach. I could still hear Hunter’s voice from those quiet nights when he would rest his head against my belly, his hand covering mine.

"I’ll be there for every first—his first word, his first step, his first day at school. I’ll teach him how to ride a bike, how to fly a plane. He’ll never doubt for a second that his dad loves him."

Liar!

I dressed quietly and left without telling anyone. At the police station, I asked for updates on my missing child. The officer on duty only shook his head.

“No new leads, Mrs. Montgomery. At this point…” His voice trailed off, but I could hear the unspoken truth. At this point, they might never find him.

Defeated, I returned to the house. The moment I stepped inside, my breath caught.

In the corner of the living room was a crib. And in it—a baby boy.

Tiny fists curled, soft whimpers escaping between breaths. My heart slammed against my ribs. He looked like my son. Same dark hair, same dimple in his chin.

I stepped closer, my hands trembling. Just one look, one touch—

“HELP! HELP!” Alicia’s scream pierced the air. “She’s hurting the kid!”