My Husband Wanted My Twin Sister

Megan’s POV

“I want a divorce.”

The words slid from my mouth like poison. Quiet. Sharp. Final.

The man across from me leaned back in his chair, eyes unreadable behind the faint gleam of his glasses. He said nothing for a long beat, just tapped a single finger against the woodgrain of the table. Once. Twice.

Finally, he says “Does he know?”

I almost laughed.

“No. He doesn’t even know I know.”

He nodded once, slowly, like he’d expected as much.

I’d heard about him through whispers. A friend of a friend who said if I ever wanted to get out, really get out, he was the one who could help. No questions. No judgment. Just results.

“Tell me why,” he said, voice low.

I didn’t answer right away. I glanced at the clock behind him. Three minutes past midnight. My twenty-eighth birthday.

And the end of my marriage.

—

We were all smiling.

A celebration, they called it. For the twins.

The Sage sisters. Megan and Mellan.

Except one of us was just there to decorate the scene.

I stood beside my husband, Jaxon Cross, as cameras clicked and laughter echoed through the ballroom. He didn’t touch me. Not once. Not a hand on my waist. Not a glance my way.

Then she walked in.

Mellan.

My twin. The one who always shone brighter.

She’d been gone for three years “finding herself,” whatever that meant but tonight, she returned. And suddenly, all eyes weren’t on the birthday girl. They were on her.

Especially his.

Jaxon’s breath hitched. His jaw tightened. That look, God, I knew that look. I’d seen it before, back when we were first introduced. But I was wrong then. I thought it was for me.

It never was.

Mellan greeted me first, because it made her look good. Hugged me like we were close. Like we were still sixteen and sharing secrets.

Then she turned to him.

And it happened. That long pause. That slow, knowing smile. The way her hand lingered on his shoulder.

I felt like I was watching the beginning of something or maybe the truth of something that had been going on far longer than I knew.

Jane, my sister-in-law, slid up next to me. Leaned in like she was about to pay a compliment.

“She’s stunning, huh?” she whispered. “I always thought Jaxon should’ve ended up with her. They just… fit.”

She walked off before I could respond. Not that I had anything to say.

What could I say?

That I already knew?

That I’d been enduring this marriage for three years, hoping, praying it might shift into something real?

That despite everything, I still loved the man who looked at my sister like she was made of gold?

I stayed quiet. Posed for more pictures. Ate a bite of cake. Smiled until my cheeks ached.

Then I heard it, behind one of the ballroom’s side doors, barely ajar.

Three voices.

I don’t know why I stopped.

Curiosity, maybe. Or instinct.

But when I heard my name, I froze.

“She’s starting to notice,” Jane said.

“She’s not a threat,” Mellan replied, too casual. “She’s just… clinging.”

Then Jaxon said, “I’ve always loved you. I never wanted her.”

My stomach flipped.

He kept talking.

“We need a clean break. If we can make it look like she cheated, I can file without hurting the company.”

Mellan’s voice dipped lower. “Think she’d fall for a setup?”

“We just need a push,” Jane said. “Something believable. Just set her up. Let them see something. Make her the villain. You’ll be free.”

I backed away before I could hear more. I didn’t need the rest.

I knew what they were planning.

I knew who they really were.

Back at the party, the lights spun gold and white. I stood in the middle of it, a woman dressed like a wife, treated like an obstacle.

Mellan winked at me from across the room.

Jaxon raised his glass in my direction, fake smile in place.

Jane clinked hers against his, already celebrating a future they thought I wouldn’t see coming.

But I did.

I saw everything now.

The lies. The pretending. The slow, silent humiliation I’d swallowed every day for three years.

I went straight to the man whose name no one spoke out loud but everyone feared.

He didn’t ask for details I wasn’t ready to give, yet.

He saw the look in my eyes and said, “Tell me what you want.”

And I told him.

Not the whole story. Not yet.

Just enough.

Enough to get started.

“I want a divorce.”