When My Fiancé’s Twin Claimed Me as His Bride

I ran until my lungs burned. The freezing rain was a heavy sheet against my skin, soaking through my coat in seconds. I didn't look back at the dark estate. I didn't stop until I reached the main road and flagged down a passing cab. I slid into the backseat, dripping water all over the worn vinyl.

"Downtown," I gasped, my teeth chattering. "Harrison Corp. Please hurry."

The driver shot me a weird look in the rearview mirror but stepped on the gas. The ride was a blur of neon lights and smeared windows. My mind was a loud, chaotic loop. *Mutilated cats. Biometric locks. The journal.* None of it made sense. I pressed my thumbnail deep into my palm. I needed answers, and I knew exactly where to get them.

I paid the driver with wet bills and stumbled out onto the pavement. The Harrison Corp headquarters towered above me. It was a massive fortress of sleek glass and steel. I pushed through the heavy revolving doors.

The executive lobby was bright, warm, and smelled like expensive coffee. Businessmen in sharp suits walked past me. I stood there shivering, my hair plastered to my cheeks, leaving a puddle of rainwater on the polished marble floor.

Then, I saw him.

He was standing by the reception desk. He wore a dark, tailored suit. He was tall, his shoulders broad and relaxed. He was standing upright on two perfectly healthy legs.

My breath hitched in my throat.

He turned around to take a folder from the receptionist. His dark eyes swept across the lobby and locked onto mine. For a split second, he just stared. Then, the commanding, authoritative mask on his face completely shattered. His jaw dropped. The folder slipped from his hand and slapped against the desk.

"Azalea?"

It was his voice. The real one. Deep, warm, and alive.

He crossed the lobby in three long strides. He didn't care about my soaking wet coat or the mud on my boots. He pulled me hard into his chest. His arms wrapped around me, crushing me against him.

I closed my eyes. It was the exact pressure. The exact rhythm of his breathing. The exact smell of cedar and rain that I had loved for four years.

This was my Kane.

The man in the wheelchair was a stranger.

He rushed me past the staring security guards and led me into his private corner office. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing us in. The room was warm. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his massive desk. He grabbed a dry towel from a cabinet and draped it gently over my shoulders. His hands hovered over my arms. They were shaking.

"You're freezing," he whispered, his eyes wide with panic. "How did you get out? How did you find me?"

I pulled the towel tighter around my neck. I looked at his face. The identical jawline. The identical eyes.

"Who is he?" I asked. My voice was eerily steady.

Kane swallowed hard. He took a step back, as if I had struck him. He ran his thumb along the edge of his silver watch—a tell I had known for years. He only did that when he was cornered.

"Azalea, please sit down."

"Who is he, Kane?" I repeated. The tug-of-war had begun, and I wasn't letting go.

He looked at the floor. "Colten. He's my younger brother. My twin."

Silence filled the room. It was thick and heavy, pressing against my eardrums.

"I didn't know you had a brother," I said flatly.

"I know." Kane looked up, his eyes red. "I kept him separate. Our family... it's complicated. Colten was always sick when we were kids. My parents coddled him. They protected him from everything. He never learned how to handle the real world."

He paced to the window, looking out at the gray city. "Then the accident happened. He lost his leg. He completely spiraled. He stopped eating. He got violent. The doctors didn't know what to do."

I pressed my thumbnail into my palm. Hard. The sting grounded me. "And where do I fit into this medical history?"

Kane turned to face me. A tear slipped down his cheek. "My parents came to me. They begged me. They said Colten had nothing left to live for. They said if I really loved my brother, I would give him my life."

"Your life?" I asked.

"They meant you." His voice cracked. "They knew he always wanted what I had. They told me to step back. To let him take my place. Just until he stabilized. They swore it would save him."

A cold, sharp clarity washed over me. It started in my chest and spread to my fingertips. The terror from the estate was gone. What replaced it was something much colder.

"So you gave me to him," I said.

"I didn't want to!" Kane stepped forward, his hands pleading. "They threatened to cut me off, to destroy the company. My mother threatened to kill herself, Azalea. I was drowning. I thought you would be safe. I thought it was just temporary."

I stared at him. The man who held me when my parents died. The man who drove me to grief counseling every Thursday and whispered that he would never let anything hurt me.

He traded me to a monster to appease his parents.

"I was locked in a house with biometric scanners, Kane," I said softly. I didn't yell. Yelling took energy I didn't want to give him. "He killed stray cats in the shed. He told me I was his property."

Kane turned pale. The blood drained from his face entirely. "What? No, my parents said he was just resting. They said it was a quiet recovery."

"You handed me over like a car," I said. "Like a piece of furniture you didn't need anymore."

"I thought I was doing the right thing for my family," he choked out, stepping closer.

"No amount of love," I said, every word clipped and precise, "justifies handing a person over like property. I am not a resource for your family to spend."

Kane stepped right up to me. He reached out and gently wrapped his hand around my cold fingers.

I didn't pull away immediately.

His thumb brushed my knuckles. It was the exact touch that used to calm my panic attacks. For one single, agonizing second, the past four years flooded the room. The late-night drives. The laughter in his kitchen. The absolute safety I felt when he looked at me.

I really did love him. With my whole heart.

But that heart was beating inside a cage now.

I pulled my hand back. I stood up and straightened my wet coat.

"Azalea, please," Kane begged. "Let me fix this. Let me protect you now. I'll handle him."

"I need time to think," I said smoothly.

"I can get you a hotel. I'll hire security—"

"No." I met his eyes. I kept my face perfectly blank. "I need to do this my way. Give me time."

He nodded slowly, looking completely defeated. "Whatever you need. I'm so sorry, Azalea."

I turned and walked to the door. I didn't look back.

I stepped out into the hallway and pressed the elevator button. The metal doors slid open. I stepped inside and watched Kane's office door disappear as the doors closed.

I wasn't going to a hotel. I wasn't running away.

I was going back to the estate.

Colten thought I belonged to him. Kane thought I needed protecting. They both thought I was a pawn on their board. I reached into my pocket and felt the small lump of pink craft putty.

I was going to play the devoted fiancée. I was going to stroke Colten's ego and suggest a grand, high-society wedding. And when the time was right, I was going to build a trap they would never see coming.