The Twins Ruin

Chapter 1: The Wrong Touch

The sting of Adrian Blackwood's wedding ring against my cheek was a familiar, bitter reminder of my place in this gilded hell.

I didn't cry out. I had learned long ago that tears only fueled his cold, possessive anger. Instead, I pressed my palm against my burning skin and watched him straighten the cuffs of his ten-thousand-dollar suit.

"You will remain in the penthouse until I return," Adrian said, his voice devoid of warmth, as if he were discussing a quarterly earnings report. "My brother is sniffing around the harbor project. I won't have you embarrassing me in public while I'm gone."

"Understood," I whispered, keeping my eyes lowered.

He didn't say goodbye. He simply turned and walked out of the master suite, the heavy oak door clicking shut with a finality that echoed through the cavernous, cold room.

The moment the locks engaged, I let out a ragged breath and slumped onto the edge of the bed. I was Seraphina Vance. Once, my name was whispered with envy in the highest circles of high society. I was the shining center of the elite. But when my father's empire collapsed under a storm of fabricated debt, I became the price he had to pay to keep his freedom.

I married Adrian Blackwood, the ruthless heir to the Blackwood dynasty, to save my father from prison.

But I wasn't just a helpless bride. I was a viper waiting in the grass. I knew Adrian had orchestrated my family's ruin. I had married him to find the evidence in his files and destroy him.

However, surviving the monster was a different game entirely. In public, Adrian showed me off like a precious trophy. Behind closed doors, he kept me like a bird in a golden cage, starving me of respect and tenderness, using my body ruthlessly while I begged him with silent tears to be gentle.

Now, I finally had two weeks of peace. Two weeks without his cruel hands and cold eyes.

Outside, a sudden crack of thunder shook the glass windows. I looked up as the lights flickered. The storm had hit the city faster than the forecasters predicted. The lights flickered once more before the entire penthouse was plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.

The power was out.

I sat frozen on the bed, my fingers gripping the silk sheets. The heavy rain pounded against the glass. I told myself it was fine. The backup generators would kick in any second. The security guards were downstairs. I was alone, and I was safe.

I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day pull me under.

I didn't know how much time had passed when I heard it.

The distinct, heavy sound of the bedroom door opening.

My eyes snapped open in the pitch black. The backup generators hadn't turned on. The room was completely devoid of light.

The guards, I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs. Adrian sent someone back for a file.

But the footsteps that crossed the room were wrong. They didn't have the sharp, military precision of my husband's stride. These footsteps were quiet. Fluid. Predatory.

The mattress dipped under the weight of a heavy body.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning sleep, my breath trapped in my lungs. If it was an intruder, I couldn't fight him. I had to wait for the right moment.

A hand reached out in the darkness. It found my cheek.

I braced myself for the harsh, bruising grip I was used to. But it didn't come. Instead, the touch was impossibly gentle. Fingertips, warm and calloused, trailed slowly down the curve of my jaw. A thumb brushed against my lower lip, the touch so reverent it sent a shiver down my spine.

The scent hit me then. It wasn't the stale whiskey and mint that clung to Adrian. This was different. It smelled of cedar, rain, and something darker. Something dangerous.

"I missed you," a low voice whispered in the dark.

My blood ran cold. The voice was identical to Adrian's-the same deep baritone that haunted my nightmares. But the cadence was entirely different. It lacked the cold venom. Instead, it was laced with an aching, terrifying tenderness.

"Adrian?" I breathed, my voice shaking.

The hand on my cheek paused. A soft, dark chuckle filled the silence. It was a sound of amusement, tinged with something deeply unhinged.

"Always his name," the voice murmured. "Even when I am the one here, holding you."

The man leaned in. His breath washed over my neck, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline through my veins. His lips brushed against my forehead in a kiss that felt like a brand.

My hands moved instinctively, sliding up his chest to push him away. But as my fingers brushed against the hollow of his throat, I stopped.

There, right beneath his collarbone, was a jagged, raised scar. A scar shaped like a crescent moon.

Adrian didn't have a scar there. My husband's skin was flawless. I knew that better than anyone.

Only one other person had that scar. It was the scar Adrian had given him during a brutal corporate fight when they were teenagers.

Julian.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. It wasn't a burglar. It wasn't my husband. It was Adrian's twin brother. The man who wanted to destroy everything Adrian touched. The man who had just sneaked into my bed.

Panic flared in my chest. I opened my mouth to scream, to call for the guards, to do anything to escape.

Before a single sound could escape my lips, his hand shot out. It wrapped around my throat-not squeezing, but resting there with a terrifying, absolute possession.

"I know you're awake, Sera," Julian whispered, his thumb pressing lightly against my pulse point. His voice was still gentle, but the darkness in it was unmistakable. "And I know you know I'm not him."

My breath hitched. He knew. He knew I had figured it out.

His body pressed against mine, trapping me beneath his weight. He leaned down, his nose brushing against my ear.

"If you scream," he whispered, his voice a lethal promise in the dark, "I will make sure the entire house knows what I did to my brother's wife tonight. Now, be a good girl, and say my name."

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