Chapter 1: The Midnight Note

The clock struck 3:00 AM when I found the note. It was pinned to the pillow of the empty bed across the room—the bed that belonged to my twin sister, Bella.

“I can’t do it, Elara. He scares me. I’m going to Paris with Ricky. Don’t hate me. Mom and Dad will figure something out. They always do.”

I stared at the paper, the loopy handwriting blurring before my eyes. Bella was gone. My beautiful, selfish, golden-haired sister had fled the country exactly twelve hours before she was supposed to marry Damien Blackwood, the billionaire shipping magnate whose wealth was the only thing standing between our family and absolute ruin.

The door to our bedroom burst open. My mother, Eleanor, stood there, her face a mask of expensive night cream and panic.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Mother hissed, seeing the note in my hand. “I heard the car leave. I checked the garage. The convertible is missing.”

“She went to Paris,” I whispered.

My father, Richard, lumbered in behind her. He looked older than his fifty years, weighed down by gambling debts and failed investments. “We are dead. Blackwood will destroy us. He paid off the loan sharks on the condition of this marriage. If there is no bride tomorrow, there is no mercy.”

They both looked at me.

I was identical to Bella in features only. We shared the same raven hair, the same pale skin, the same violet eyes. But Bella was the sun—bright, loud, demanding. I was the moon—quiet, studious, a painter who spent her days in the back garden hiding under paint-splattered overalls.

“Elara,” Mother said, her voice taking on a dangerous, sugary tone. “You fit the dress.”

“No,” I stepped back. “I am not marrying a man I’ve never met. A man rumors say killed his first wife.”

“You don’t have a choice!” Father snapped, grabbing my arm. “If you don’t walk down that aisle tomorrow, we lose the house. We lose the estate. We go to prison for fraud. Do you want to see your mother in a cell?”

“It’s just for a while,” Mother pleaded, touching my cheek with an icy hand. “Just until we find Bella. You pretend to be her. You say the vows. You buy us time.”

I looked at their desperate faces. I looked at the empty bed. I had spent my whole life being the invisible twin, the backup plan. Now, I was the sacrifice.

“Fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll do it.”

Chapter 2: The Cold Groom

The wedding preparation was a blur of hairspray and terror. I was stuffed into Bella’s custom Vera Wang gown. It was tight in the chest—Bella was slightly curvier—but with enough corseting, I looked exactly like her.

“Remember,” Mother whispered as she adjusted my veil. “Bella is confident. She laughs loud. She touches people. Don’t be your sullen self.”

I walked down the aisle of the St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The pews were filled with New York’s elite, strangers who were there to witness the merger of the Blackwood fortune and the Vance beauty.

And there, at the altar, stood Damien Blackwood.

He was terrifyingly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with hair as black as ink and eyes the color of a stormy sea. He didn’t smile as I approached. He watched me with a predatory intensity that made my knees weak.

I reached the altar. My father handed me off like a package and scurried to his seat.

Damien took my hand. His skin was cool.

“You’re trembling, Bella,” he murmured, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “Cold feet?”

“Just… anticipation,” I lied, trying to mimic Bella’s breathless cadence.

“Strange,” Damien noted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yesterday, you told me you couldn’t wait to get your hands on my credit card. Today, you look like you’re walking to the gallows.”

I froze. Bella had said that? Of course she had.

“I… I’m just overwhelmed by the occasion,” I managed to say.

The priest began the ceremony. The air was thick with incense and lies. I felt suffocated. I was promising my life to a stranger, under a stolen name.

“Do you, Damien Blackwood, take this woman…”

“I do,” Damien said, never taking his eyes off me.

“And do you, Isabella Vance…”

I opened my mouth. My heart hammered against my ribs.

CREAK.

The massive oak doors of the cathedral groaned open.

The sound echoed through the silent church. Heads turned. The priest paused.

I let out a breath, half-expecting Bella to come running in, realizing she had forgotten her passport or run out of money.

But it wasn’t Bella.

Chapter 3: The Intruder

Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun, was a man.

He was dressed in a worn leather jacket and dark jeans, a stark contrast to the black-tie attire of the guests. He walked with a limp, leaning heavily on a cane. His hair was long and unkempt.

But as he stepped into the dim light of the nave, a collective gasp rippled through the congregation.

He had Damien Blackwood’s face.

He was older, perhaps, or just more weathered. A jagged scar ran down his left cheek. But the bone structure, the eyes, the jaw—it was a mirror image.

Damien’s hand tightened on mine so hard it hurt.

“Impossible,” Damien whispered. The color drained from his face, leaving him ghostly pale.

The man limped down the aisle. Security guards stepped forward, but the man raised a hand holding a thick envelope.

“Stop!” the man shouted. His voice was rough, gravelly. “This wedding is a fraud!”

My mother stood up, shrieking. “Get him out! He’s a drunk! A stalker!”

“I’m no stalker, Eleanor,” the man rasped, stopping ten feet from the altar. He looked at Damien. “Hello, brother.”

“Sebastian,” Damien choked out. “You’re dead. You died in the fire five years ago.”

“That’s what you told the world,” Sebastian said. “That’s what you told the board of directors so you could inherit the company alone. You locked me in the east wing and let it burn. But I survived, Damien. No thanks to you.”

The crowd erupted into whispers. Journalists were frantic, typing on their phones.

Sebastian turned his gaze to me. He looked me up and down.

“And you,” he said, his eyes softening with pity. “You aren’t Bella.”

I stopped breathing.

“You’re Elara,” Sebastian said. “The quiet one. The painter.”

“How… how do you know?” I whispered.

“Because Bella wouldn’t be trembling,” Sebastian said. “And Bella wouldn’t look at my brother with fear. She’d look at him with greed.”

He turned to the crowd.

“Damien Blackwood isn’t the billionaire you think he is,” Sebastian announced. “The Blackwood Trust requires the heir to be married by age thirty to access the funds. Damien turns thirty tomorrow. He’s bankrupt, drowning in bad deals. He needed a wife today—any wife—to unlock the money. He didn’t care which twin it was.”

Sebastian threw the envelope onto the altar steps. Photos spilled out. Photos of Damien meeting with loan sharks. Photos of doctored financial reports.

“He’s using you,” Sebastian said to me. “Just like your parents are selling you.”

Chapter 4: The Unraveling

Damien dropped my hand. He looked at his brother with pure hatred.

“You ruined everything,” Damien hissed. “I did this for the family! The company was failing before I took over!”

“You did it for yourself!” Sebastian roared. “You tried to kill me!”

“Because you were weak!” Damien shouted back, losing his composure. “You wanted to give away our fortune to charity! You were soft!”

The truth hung in the air, ugly and undeniable. Damien had practically confessed.

Police sirens wailed in the distance. Someone must have called them.

My parents were trying to sneak out the side door, but were blocked by angry investors.

I stood alone at the altar. The veil felt heavy.

“Elara,” Sebastian said, extending a hand. “Come away from him.”

I looked at Damien. The handsome mask had slipped, revealing a desperate, cruel man.

I looked at Sebastian. The scarred, “broken” brother who had come to save a girl he didn’t even know.

I took off the veil. I let it drop to the floor.

“My name is Elara,” I said to Damien, my voice finally steady. “And I don’t say ‘I do’. I say ‘I won’t’.”

Damien lunged for me, but Sebastian moved faster than his limp suggested. He swung his cane, catching Damien in the knees. The billionaire fell to the ground, cursing.

Security finally intervened—but not to help Damien. They restrained him as the police burst through the doors.

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

The scandal of the century, they called it.

Damien was arrested for attempted murder, fraud, and embezzlement. My parents were indicted for conspiracy and fraud. Bella was found in Paris a week later, her credit cards declined, forced to return to face the music.

But I… I was free.

I sat in a small café in Greenwich Village two months later. I had a sketchbook open, drawing the passersby.

“Is this seat taken?”

I looked up. Sebastian stood there. He looked better. He had cut his hair, and though the scar remained, his eyes were bright.

“It’s free,” I smiled.

He sat down. He ordered a coffee.

“I saw your exhibition,” he said, pointing to a flyer on the table. “The one titled ‘Shadows and Mirrors’. It’s good. Really good.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you… for crashing the wedding.”

“I couldn’t let him ruin another life,” Sebastian said. “I watched your family for weeks, planning my moment. I saw you in the garden, painting. I knew you weren’t Bella. I knew you were the one being trapped.”

“You saved me,” I said.

“We saved each other,” Sebastian corrected. “I needed a reason to stop hiding. You gave me one.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. His palm was warm, rough, and real.

“I’m rebuilding the company,” he said. “The right way. But I need someone with an eye for truth. Someone who sees things others miss.”

“Are you offering me a job?” I teased.

“I’m offering you a dinner,” he smiled. “To start.”

I looked at the man who shared a face with a monster but possessed the heart of a hero. I closed my sketchbook.

“I’d love dinner,” I said.

Outside, the sun was shining. I wasn’t the invisible twin anymore. I was Elara. And for the first time, my story was just beginning.

The End.