Chapter 1: The Plea

“Please, Sophie! You have to save me! I can’t marry a corpse!”

My twin sister, Sasha, threw herself onto my bed, sobbing into the duvet. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, ruining her perfect, porcelain face—the face that mirrored mine, though everyone said hers shone brighter because she knew how to use it.

“Sasha, get a grip,” I said, putting down my book. “What are you talking about?”

“The wedding!” she wailed. “I can’t do it. I can’t marry him tomorrow. I saw a photo… a real photo leaked from the estate. He’s ancient, Sophie! He’s like eighty years old! He probably smells like mothballs and death. I can’t waste my youth nursing a dying old man, even if he is a billionaire.”

Our parents had arranged this marriage. The Blackwood family, reclusive tech moguls, had offered to wipe out our father’s crushing business debts in exchange for a union with their eldest son. Sasha, being the “pretty one” (and the one who loved shopping), had agreed initially, blinded by the promise of an unlimited credit card.

But now, cold feet had turned into ice.

“So what do you want me to do?” I asked, sighing.

“Take my place,” Sasha whispered, grabbing my hand. “Just for the ceremony. Just for a few days. I… I need to go away. To think. If I don’t show up, Dad goes to jail. You know that. But if you show up… they won’t know the difference.”

“You want me to marry a stranger?” I pulled my hand away.

“He’s old!” Sasha insisted. “He probably won’t even notice. He just wants a trophy wife to sit by his bedside. Please, Sophie. I’m begging you. I’ll come back. I promise. Just buy me some time.”

I looked at her desperate eyes. I looked at the hallway where I could hear our father pacing, terrified of the loan sharks. I was the quiet twin. The librarian. The one who fixed things.

“Fine,” I whispered, sealing my fate. “Go. But come back soon.”

Chapter 2: The Shadow Groom

The wedding was held at the Blackwood estate, a gothic fortress of stone and iron gates that loomed over the Hudson River. It felt less like a wedding venue and more like a mausoleum.

I was dressed in Sasha’s gown—a lace confection that cost more than my car. A heavy veil covered my face, obscuring my vision.

“Walk straight, don’t trip,” my father hissed as he walked me down the aisle. He didn’t know. He thought I was Sasha.

The ceremony was strange. I barely saw the groom. He stood in the shadows of the altar, flanked by lawyers. An elderly man with a cane stood near the front, coughing violently into a handkerchief.

That must be him, I thought with a shiver. Sasha was right.

The vows were exchanged in a blur. I spoke softly, trying to mimic Sasha’s cadence. The groom’s voice was low, almost a whisper.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

I didn’t receive a kiss. The groom simply nodded, and I was whisked away by security before the reception even began.

“The Master is tired,” a severe-looking butler told me. “He will see you in the bridal suite.”

I was led up a winding staircase to a room that looked less like a bedroom and more like a museum. Dark wood, heavy velvet curtains, and a massive four-poster bed that looked like it belonged in a vampire novel.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was married. To an octogenarian. I was a fraud. And I was terrified.

Hours passed. I removed the heavy veil and the diamond tiara. I paced the room, waiting for the inevitable.

At midnight, the doorknob turned.

I froze, bracing myself for the sight of a wheelchair or a walker.

The door opened.

Chapter 3: The Surprise

A man walked in.

He wasn’t eighty. He wasn’t using a walker. He wasn’t smelling of mothballs.

He was… breathtaking.

He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that strained against his white dress shirt. He had loosened his tie, and his top buttons were undone. His hair was dark, swept back in a careless style, and his eyes were a piercing, icy blue. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-eight.

I gasped, backing away until my legs hit the bed. “Who… who are you?”

The man stopped. He looked at me, confused. “I’m your husband.”

“No,” I shook my head, my hands trembling. “My husband is… Mr. Blackwood. The billionaire.”

“I am Elias Blackwood,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was deep, rich, and definitely not frail. “Who were you expecting? My grandfather?”

“I…” I stammered. “Sasha said… everyone said…”

Elias laughed. It was a dry, cynical sound. “Ah. The rumors. We let the press believe the patriarch was remarrying. It keeps the stock prices stable and weeds out the gold diggers who only want a quick inheritance.”

He walked over to the side table and poured two glasses of water. He turned to look at me, his gaze intense.

“You look disappointed,” he noted. “Were you hoping for a dying old man so you could inherit the fortune in six months?”

“No!” I blurted out. “God, no. I was terrified.”

Elias paused. He studied my face. “You don’t sound like Sasha.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

“We met once. At the engagement gala,” Elias said, narrowing his eyes. “You were… loud. You talked about diamonds for twenty minutes. Tonight, you’re quiet. You’re shaking.”

“I’m just… nervous,” I lied, looking down.

Elias walked up to me. The air in the room grew heavy. He reached out and touched my chin, tilting my face up.

“Well, Mrs. Blackwood,” he whispered. “You signed the contract. You said the vows. Old man or not, you are mine tonight.”

He kissed me.

It wasn’t the kiss of a stranger. It was possessive, demanding, and electric. And god help me, I didn’t push him away.

Chapter 4: The Real Connection

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the velvet curtains. The space beside me was empty, but the sheets were still warm.

Memories of the night flooded back. The passion. The unexpected tenderness.

“Sasha?”

Elias was standing at the foot of the bed, fully dressed in a suit. He held a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” I said, pulling the sheet up.

“We need to talk,” Elias said. His face was unreadable.

He sat in the armchair. “Last night… was different. You were different. I expected a transaction. I expected a cold, calculated performance. But you…” He looked at me with a strange intensity. “You were real.”

I looked down at my hands. I hated lying to him. He wasn’t the monster Sasha had described. He was guarded, yes, but there was a warmth beneath the ice.

“People change,” I said softly.

“Do they?” Elias stood up. “I have a meeting. The driver will take you to the city if you want to shop. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The Black card?”

He tossed a heavy black credit card onto the duvet.

“I don’t want your money,” I said.

Elias stopped at the door. He looked back, genuinely surprised. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to know why you married me,” I asked. “If you think I’m shallow.”

“Because my grandfather is dying,” Elias admitted, his voice softening. “His final wish was to see the family line secured. I did it for him. I didn’t expect to actually… like my wife.”

He left.

I didn’t go shopping. I went to the library. I spent the day painting in the garden, wearing one of Elias’s old shirts I found.

When Elias came home that evening, he found me covered in paint, sketching the rose garden.

He stared at me. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I smiled.

For the next two weeks, we fell into a rhythm. We talked. We ate dinner together. We laughed. I fell in love with my sister’s husband. And I could feel him falling for me.

But the clock was ticking.

Chapter 5: The Return

It happened on a Tuesday.

I was in the kitchen, baking scones (another thing Sasha would never do), when the front doors banged open.

“I’m home!”

A voice, shrill and familiar, echoed through the foyer.

I dropped the mixing bowl.

I ran into the hallway. There, standing with a mountain of Louis Vuitton luggage, was Sasha. She looked tanned, rested, and furious when she saw me wearing a silk robe that belonged to the lady of the house.

“Sasha?” I whispered.

“You can leave now, Sophie,” Sasha hissed, dropping her voice. “I saw the news. He’s hot! You didn’t tell me he was young and gorgeous! I want my life back.”

“You abandoned him,” I said, stepping forward. “You thought he was old.”

“So? I’m back now. The deal was you just cover for me. Go pack your bags. I’ll take it from here.”

“What is going on?”

Elias stood at the top of the stairs. He looked from Sasha to me, and back to Sasha.

We were identical. Same hair. Same face. But at that moment, we couldn’t have looked more different. Sasha was posed, haughty, entitled. I was covered in flour, terrified, and heartbroken.

“Two of them,” Elias said slowly. He walked down the stairs.

“Elias, darling!” Sasha ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Surprise! That’s just my twin sister, Sophie. She’s… well, she’s a bit of a stalker. She’s been obsessed with my life forever. I let her stay here while I was… handling a family emergency. But she’s leaving now.”

Sasha looked at me with a venomous smile. “Aren’t you, Sophie?”

Elias didn’t hug her back. He peeled her arms off his neck.

He walked over to me. He looked at the flour on my cheek. He looked at my hands—the hands that had held his the night before.

“You’re the painter,” Elias said softly to me.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“And you,” he turned to Sasha, “are the one who ran away.”

“I didn’t run away!” Sasha lied. “I told you, family emergency! Ask her!”

Elias looked at me. “Is that true?”

I could have lied. I could have saved my sister’s reputation. But I looked at the man I loved.

“She left because she thought you were eighty years old,” I said. “She left a note. She went to Paris.”

“You liar!” Sasha shrieked. “Elias, she’s the fraud! She slept in your bed! She tricked you!”

“She didn’t trick me,” Elias said, his voice cold as steel.

He stepped between us, shielding me from Sasha.

“The woman I married in that church… I didn’t see her face. But the woman I have lived with for the last two weeks? The woman who paints in my garden? The woman who listens to me? That is the woman I want.”

Chapter 6: The Choice

Elias looked at Sasha with pure disdain. “You want the billionaire. You want the status. But you don’t want me. Get out of my house.”

“But the contract!” Sasha screamed. “My name is on the marriage license! Isabella Vance!”

“Actually,” Elias smirked. “I had my lawyers look into the footage from the church. We saw the switch. And more importantly… on the wedding night, your sister signed the prenup addendum with her own name. Habit, I assume.”

I gasped. I had. In my nervousness, I had signed “Sophie Vance” on the document Elias handed me that morning.

“So legally,” Elias said, taking my hand. “I am married to Sophie. And I intend to stay that way.”

Sasha was escorted out by security, screaming threats and insults.

When the door closed, silence fell over the hallway.

I looked at Elias. “You knew? About the signature?”

“I saw it the next morning,” Elias admitted. “I was confused at first. But then I watched you. I got to know you. And I realized I didn’t care about the name. I cared about the person.”

He wiped the flour from my cheek.

“I’m sorry I lied,” I said.

“We both had secrets,” Elias said. “I let the world think I was an old man to find someone real. And you pretended to be someone else to save your family. We’re a mess, Sophie.”

“We are,” I smiled.

“But we fit,” he said, pulling me close. “Mrs. Blackwood.”

He kissed me, and this time, there were no veils, no lies, and no shadows. Just a boy and a girl who found each other in a twisted game of mirrors, and decided to break the glass to be together.

The End.