Perfect! We'll begin your sto
The mirror didn't lie.
Lena Carter looked exactly like her twin sister, Lana—the same soft brown eyes, the same chestnut curls falling over her shoulders, the same slender jawline. But what stared back at her today was a stranger.
"Say yes, Lena," her mother whispered, trembling. "Please. Just for a few weeks. Until we find your sister."
Lena's heart pounded in her chest. "You want me to pretend to be Lana? To live with that man?"
"That man is her husband," her stepfather snapped. "And you'll be saving this family. Do you want us bankrupt? Homeless? Ruined?"
Lena clutched the robe tighter around her body, barely holding back the anger bubbling inside her. She wasn't Lana. She wasn't the socialite who made deals in backrooms, who married for money, who flirted with danger like it was a game.
And she certainly wasn't the type to marry Damien Black—the billionaire CEO with a reputation for being ruthless and cold-blooded. A man known to ruin lives without blinking.
Lena had seen him once, briefly, on her sister's wedding day. He barely smiled. His eyes were sharp, calculating. She didn't understand why Lana agreed to marry him. It was all business, she had said. Just a contract.
Now, five days later, Lana had disappeared.
The news hadn't gone public yet. Only her mother, stepfather, and a few trusted staff knew. If Damien found out, the entire arrangement would fall apart—and her family would face financial ruin.
"Where could she be?" Lena whispered.
Her mother shook her head, eyes glassy with worry. "She hasn't answered her phone, her friends haven't seen her. We don't know."
"She wouldn't just run," Lena murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Lana was wild, unpredictable—but she wasn't careless. She wouldn't disappear like this.
Still, the longer they waited, the riskier it became. Damien was already asking questions.
Her stepfather leaned forward. "All you need to do is act like her. For a few weeks. Smile. Say little. Don't let him suspect anything."
Lena swallowed hard. Her sister had made a deal to marry Damien for three months in exchange for rescuing the family business. Three months in the billionaire's home, as his fake wife.
Now Lena was being asked to take her place.
It was insane.
It was terrifying.
It was the only option.
She stood slowly. "Fine," she whispered. "But I'm doing this for Mom. Not for you."
Her stepfather smirked like he'd won a bet. "Get dressed. His driver will be here in thirty minutes."
—
The Blackwood mansion was colder than Lena expected. Not in temperature—but in presence. Stark white walls, spotless marble floors, modern and soulless. Like the man himself.
Damien was standing near the grand staircase when she walked in.
Tall, commanding, in a charcoal suit that fit his body like it had been tailored by the gods. His dark eyes landed on her instantly.
"You're late," he said, voice low and clipped.
Lena fought to keep her expression neutral. "Apologies. I wasn't feeling well this morning."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "You look different."
Panic gripped her chest. Did he know? Could he tell?
"Hair," he added flatly. "You curled it."
She exhaled in relief. "I needed a change."
He turned away. "Dinner is at eight. We have a charity gala this Friday. You will attend."
He didn't wait for a response.
Just like that, she was dismissed.
Lena followed the housekeeper upstairs, her hands still trembling.
Her room was large, elegant—and empty. No personal touches. No warmth.
This wasn't a home. It was a prison.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the velvet curtains. Lana had lived here for five days. Now she was gone. Without a trace.
Where are you, Lana?
And why do I feel like I've just stepped into something far bigger than any of us imagined?