Trapped between twins

Chapter 1

The gold band on my ring finger felt tight, heavy, and completely suffocating.

I stood motionless in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, staring blankly at my own reflection. Six months ago, my family still had a name, a reputation, and wealth that afforded me the luxury of going to galas and art exhibits without a single worry in the world. Now, every single piece of that security had vanished overnight.

My father’s vast business empire had collapsed under millions of dollars in sudden, crushing debts. Creditors had circled like vultures, threatening to drag our family name through the mud and throw my father into federal prison. To save us from total public ruin and financial devastation, my father had traded me away. He had married me off to Julian Vance—the cold, unyielding heir of the Vance Group, a man whose heart was reportedly as frozen as his corporate balance sheet.

A sharp click echoed through the quiet room as the heavy mahogany door swung open.

Julian walked inside, unfastening his expensive silk tie and tossing it carelessly onto a nearby armchair alongside his tailored suit jacket. He didn't look at me. Not with affection, not with curiosity, and certainly not with warmth. His face was completely neutral, carved from cold indifference, like a man looking at a high-end luxury object he had just purchased and left sitting on a shelf.

"Standing in the dark again, Nora?" he asked. His voice was flat, devoid of any human inflection.

I forced my posture to straighten, keeping my hands neatly folded in front of the silk robe I wore. "I was waiting for you," I said softly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "How was work at the tower?"

Julian didn't answer right away. He took two long, deliberate steps closer, invading my personal space before his hand shot out. His long fingers wrapped cruelly around my chin, tightening with enough force to make me wince. He forced me to look straight up into his hard, unyielding eyes.

"My business is none of your concern," he said, each word precise and biting. "Your job is to stand beside me, look good for the press, and do exactly what I say when we are behind closed doors. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Julian," I whispered, holding back the stinging tears burning the backs of my eyes.

He dropped his hand abruptly, letting go of my face with a dismissive flick of his wrist that left a sharp, stinging ache radiating across my skin. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white dress shirt, his gaze dropping to the oversized mattress behind me. He pointed a finger at the bed without a shred of emotion.

"Come here."

My stomach turned violently. Every single night in this mausoleum followed the exact same agonizing script. He never spoke a kind word to me, never asked how I was coping with the isolation of the estate, and never touched me with anything resembling tenderness. He treated our marriage bed like a chore—a mechanical duty he had to complete before he could turn his back and go to sleep.

I took a slow, heavy step toward him, forcing my legs to move, forcing myself to endure yet another night of being treated like nothing more than property.

The next morning, the harsh glare of the early sunlight woke me up.

I shifted beneath the heavy duvet, listening to the familiar sounds of Julian getting dressed across the room. He stood near the walk-in closet, buttoning up a fresh shirt with crisp, sharp movements. He didn't even turn around to look at me when I stirred against the pillows.

"I’m going to Geneva," he announced over his shoulder, his tone as cold as winter ice. "I have a multi-million-dollar merger to handle. I’ll be back in two weeks."

I sat up instantly, pulling the thick blanket defensively up to my chest. "Two weeks? You're leaving for Geneva? You didn't tell me anything about a trip."

He paused, turning his head just enough to shoot me a short, withering glance over his shoulder. "I don't need to report my schedule or ask for permission from you, Nora. Don't leave the estate without security, and don't cause any unnecessary trouble while I'm gone. The last thing I need is a scandal while I'm out of the country."

Without waiting for a reply, he picked up his leather travel bag and walked out of the master suite.

The heavy door clicked shut behind him with a finality that made the air in the room instantly lighter.

I let out a long, shuddering breath that I felt like I’d been holding for six months. He was gone. For fourteen whole days, the man who treated me like a prisoner would be thousands of miles away across the ocean. For two weeks, I could walk down the grand hallways without feeling the phantom weight of his eyes on my back.

The day passed with a strange, peaceful quiet. I ate a solitary lunch in the massive dining hall, walked slowly through the manicured gardens while the security guards watched from a distance, and deliberately stayed out of everyone's way. But by nightfall, the weather shifted violently. A heavy, relentless rain began to lash against the reinforced glass of the windows, accompanied by deep rolls of thunder that shook the entire foundation of the house.

I sat curled up on the velvet couch in the private sitting room, cradling a warm cup of herbal tea between my palms while watching the lightning dance across the stormy sky.

Right around midnight, the sound of the front heavy oak door unlatching cut through the rumble of the storm.

Heavy footsteps strode down the long hallway, heading directly toward the sitting room.

My heart hammered against my ribs, instantly leaping into my throat. Had his flight been canceled because of the storm? Was Julian back already? Panic seized my chest as I put my teacup down with shaking hands, scrambling to stand up from the couch.

A man stepped out of the hallway shadows and into the soft light of the room, completely soaked from the torrential rain. He pulled off his heavy wool coat and dropped it straight onto the hardwood floor without a second thought.

I froze. He had the exact same face as Julian—the same razor-sharp jawline, the exact same towering height, and the same dark, piercing eyes.

"Julian?" I asked, my voice trembling uncontrollably as I gripped the edge of the sofa for support. "I thought you went to Geneva. How are you back already?"

The man stopped in his tracks. He didn't look angry, nor did he look impatient. Instead, his gaze softened as he looked at my pale, frightened face.

"The flight was grounded because of the storm," he said. His voice sounded slightly lower than Julian's usual clipped cadence, rougher around the edges, carrying a warm, natural depth that sent a strange shiver down my spine.

Before I could process his words, he walked straight up to me.

I stood completely paralyzed, bracing myself for the usual harsh commands, the cold insult, or the rough grip on my chin that I had grown so accustomed to.

Instead, he reached his hand out slowly. His fingers brushed against my cheek, and he gently tucked a loose lock of damp hair behind my ear. His touch wasn't demanding or transactional. His skin felt warm against my cold face, sending a jolt of pure electricity through my veins.

"You look exhausted, Nora," he said quietly, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Did you actually eat anything today?"

I stared up at him, my mind spinning into complete chaos. Julian had never once asked if I had eaten a single meal since the day I walked into this house. He had never looked at me with concern, and he had certainly never spoken to me with a tone of genuine gentleness.

"I... I'm fine," I stammered, my heart racing a million miles an hour. "Are you hungry from the trip? I can call the kitchen staff to make you something hot."

"No," he said softly, his gaze dropping slowly to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes. "I don't need food."

Before I could take a step back, he slid his hand around my waist. He didn't yank me forward or grip me with cruel force. He pulled me toward him with a slow, deliberate care, holding me gently against his chest as if he genuinely believed I might shatter if he moved too fast.

Then, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly to my forehead.

I stood completely frozen in his arms, the storm raging outside while the world inside my head completely stopped spinning. The man holding me was looking down at me not as a piece of property, not as a debt paid in full, but as if I actually mattered.

Chapter 2

​I stood rooted to the floor long after he pulled away and walked up the grand staircase.

​My forehead still burned where his lips had pressed into my skin. The touch had been light, almost hesitant, but it rattled me to my core. Julian Vance didn't do gentle. He didn't ask if I had eaten, and he certainly didn't hold me as if I were fragile. For six long months, his touch had meant one thing: complete control.

​I touched my fingers to my forehead, trying to wipe away the phantom sensation, but my skin was still warm.

​Outside, the thunderstorm showed no sign of stopping. Rain lashed against the tall glass windows of the sitting room, heavy and relentless. I paced the polished floorboards, my silk robe wrapped tightly around myself, staring at the dark hallway that led upstairs.

​Something felt completely wrong.

​A man doesn't just change his entire personality in a single night. Julian was a ruthless businessman—a cold, unyielding man w