The day I buried my parents… Marshall, my husband and fraternal twin sister Daphne, did not show up.
My parents died together on the open sea. My father had surprised my mother with a weekend island tour, a rare trip away from the vineyard but the weather turned on them. The storm was merciless. The boat capsized and never made it back to shore. When the Coast Guard found them, they were still holding hands.
I was still at the cemetery when my phone buzzed. A message from Daphne.
I opened it. The photo hit me like a punch. Marshall was kneeling in front of her, kissing her stomach like it was the most precious thing in the world. The caption read, “Guess who’s finally going to be a father?”
My hands shook. No. This had to be fake.
But then another picture came. This one ended any hope I had left.
Daphne stood in front of my bedroom mirror, wearing my silk robe, taking a selfie. Behind her, in the bed I shared with Marshall, he was fast asleep.
I could not breathe. My own husband had gotten my twin sister pregnant.
Daphne had always been the family’s black sheep; reckless, selfish, the kind of girl who wore trouble like perfume. My parents spent years cleaning up her messes while I stayed behind to help run the vineyard. But the moment I married Marshall, she changed. Or pretended to. She started imitating me. My dresses. My perfume. Even the way I curled my hair and held a wine glass. At first, I told myself it was harmless. Now I saw it for what it was.
The tears came so hard I could barely see. I dropped to my knees in front of my parents’ grave. The dirt was still fresh. My tears soaked into it as I broke apart.
I had noticed the glances between them before. The secret smiles. The way conversations would stop when I walked in. But I refused to believe the two people I trusted most could destroy me like this.
My phone buzzed again. Marshall this time.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. Something important came up. We need to talk when I get home.”
I knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.
That night, he came home with Daphne by his side, carrying her bags.
“Daphne needs a place to stay. She’s scared to stay at your parents’ house,” he said in a soft tone, as though gentleness could erase the filth of what he had done. “She’s pregnant. It’s not safe for her to be alone.”
Daphne gave me a sweet, fake smile. “I am sorry, sis. I begged Marshall to wait, but the baby’s health comes first. I hope you understand… We’re twins, right? You’ll understand. I know it’s not the best day to show up… with it being our parents’ funeral.”
I stared at the floor. My chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.
Marshall continued, “She is your sister, your own flesh and blood. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
I wanted to scream. Throw something. Smash his face in. But I just sat there like a ghost.
He tried again. “I’m sorry for what happened between us. I love you. Only you. What happened with Daphne was a mistake but it won’t happen again.”
I looked up at him, my voice shaking. “She is pregnant. And you? You call that a mistake?”
“Yes. But we made an agreement. When she gives birth, the baby will be yours. You’ve always wanted a child, Liora. Since you can’t have one, this is the universe helping us.”
Those words… You can’t have one.
“I can’t believe you,” I whispered. “You slept with my sister, got her pregnant, and now you expect me to thank you?!”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Don’t be dramatic, okay? Now we can finally have a child. I can be a father.”
Daphne started fake crying. “Oh, Marshall. Look at what I’ve done. I’m ruining everything… my twin hates me.”
I snapped, “Cut the fucking act, Daphne!”
She gasped and cried harder. “I… I should go.”
Marshall’s voice turned sharp. “Stop. You’re stressing her. No wonder you can’t give me a child.”
That one sentence broke me all over again.
He softened his tone like it could undo the wound. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want the baby harmed.”
“Okay, then I want a divorce.”
His face went pale. “What?”
Daphne smirked like she had already won.
“I said I want a divorce.”
“Liora, no. We are family,” Daphne said, dripping with fake pity.
Marshall shook his head. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do.”
“Because of this? Because I made a mistake?” He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “I am Marshall Celestino. If you walk out, I will find you. I will drag you back. And I will burn your precious vineyard to the ground.”
My heart froze. The vineyard, forty hectares of vines, barrels, and history was my parents’ life’s work. It was the only piece of them I had left.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“You brought this on yourself.”
I shook my head, tears streaming. “You humiliate me, you move her in, you threaten me… What more do you want?!”
“Daphne’s baby will be ours. Why can’t you be happy?”
Happy? Wow.
Something inside me snapped. I wiped my tears. Daphne’s eyes gleamed like she had won. That was the moment I decided.
“I overreacted,” I said quietly. “I’ll stay… for now. Give me time.”
Marshall smiled and kissed my forehead but that night, I lay curled up on the floor of the guest room, crying until my body hurt. Upstairs, Marshall was with Daphne in the master bedroom. Our bedroom.
I grieved for my parents. I grieved my marriage. I grieved for myself.
When my tears finally ran out, I reached for my phone. I called the one person who hated Marshall more than I did. The one man he was truly afraid of.
His older half brother. Percival Celestino.
