While he sat at the table devouring the meal I had just served, my mind slipped away from the present…
It all began merely a week ago.
At that time, I was genuinely overjoyed—elated in a way that made everything seem weightless. I had just discovered I was expecting his children. Not just one. But twins.
I could still see the image on the ultrasound screen, the grainy shapes that confirmed a miracle. My hands had been shaking, my heart galloping. It felt like the universe had finally handed me a piece of happiness. A future. I had even crafted a silly little plan to surprise him—tucked the ultrasound printout into a tiny gift box inside my purse, thinking how sweet the moment would be.
That day, I arrived at his apartment earlier than expected, my face stretched in an uncontrollable grin, my stomach fluttering with anticipation. But just as I reached his front door, a sound stopped me. It was slightly ajar, just enough for voices to drift out into the hall.
I recognized his laugh instantly—Kenji’s.
“She’s so easy to deceive,” he said casually, his tone light, even amused. “I just act like I love her. This whole thing? It’s all payback for what her family did to Chloe.”
I stood there, paralyzed.
A male voice laughed in response from inside. “Man, that’s next-level vengeance.”
Kenji chuckled again. “She buys into it all—hook, line, and sinker. She really thinks we’re soulmates or whatever. She’s so desperate to feel loved, it’s pathetic. And honestly? She’s dull in bed. Like drinking lukewarm tap water. Nothing compared to my Chloe. She’s wild. Electric. I always finish with her.”
The cruel laughter that followed echoed like gunshots. I felt like someone had plunged a dagger into my chest and started twisting, but I still couldn’t make myself move.
Chloe.
The girl who had stolen my life.
And not by coincidence. Not by fate.
It was a deliberate act. A carefully executed theft.
When I was born, my parents celebrated me as their miracle—an only child born into privilege, into a legacy that turned heads in every room. But Marga, our loyal household maid, had secrets of her own. She was pregnant, too. No one knew. She hid the truth under oversized clothing and silent suffering. The father? A sweet-talking fraud who ran the moment responsibility knocked.
She gave birth hours after my mother did. Her daughter had no family name, no future, no inheritance. Nothing but disgrace.
So she made a horrifying decision. She switched us.
She handed her baby to my unsuspecting mother and took me away in the night. For the first few years, she raised me as her own, pretending to be a devoted guardian. Then she vanished—disappeared without warning or explanation. No letter. No goodbye. Nothing. I was dumped into the foster care system, passed from one indifferent family to the next.
Meanwhile, her daughter—Chloe—grew up wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed, living in the world meant for me.
No one suspected a thing. Not until years later, when Chloe crashed her car.
Drunk. Reckless. Spoiled beyond redemption.
That night began the unraveling. A blood test after the accident raised questions. Quiet DNA tests followed. Investigations took place behind closed doors.
And then—me.
The daughter they had lost, and thought they’d never find.
They tracked me down in an orphanage. Brought me back like I was a miracle reborn. Their apologies were wrapped in every gift. Their guilt showed in every hug.
And Chloe?
She was ripped from the life she believed was hers. She didn’t go quietly. She screamed. She kicked. She threatened.
“You’ll pay for this!” she shouted at me. “You stole everything! Now I’m stealing it back!”
At the time, I thought it was just rage talking. A tantrum born from loss.
But watching Kenji now—chewing contentedly on the food I cooked with trembling hands and a broken heart—I understood.
She wasn’t bluffing.
She meant it.
Kenji had been part of her plan. Maybe from the very beginning. Maybe all of this had always been an act of revenge. I thought I was building something meaningful with him. I thought our relationship was genuine.
But I was wrong. I didn’t see the darkness inside him until it was too late.
Now I was carrying his children. And everything was unraveling because of Chloe, because of their shared past.
They didn’t know what was coming for them.
But I did.
I’m not the villain they’ve cast me as. I’m not the broken girl in their twisted little story. I’m rewriting the script. And this time? I’m in charge of the ending.
---
That night, while we lay in bed, he wrapped his arms around me like chains—tight and suffocating. His limbs were heavy across my abdomen, his breath brushing hot against my neck. A part of me ached to believe it was love. Another part of me wanted to scream.
He assumed I was deeply asleep.
So when he slowly began to ease away, moving with careful, practiced stealth, I didn’t flinch.
I waited.
Then I got up.
Barefoot and breathing in shallow bursts, I crept through the apartment like a ghost, the silence amplifying my heartbeat. When I heard the door click shut behind him, I followed seconds later, the cold night air smacking me awake.
I saw them by the iron gate.
Shrouded in darkness.
He didn’t hesitate.
He gripped her and kissed her like a man starved, fevered and hungry. She clung to him just as fiercely. Like animals reunited, devouring each other without shame.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
They didn’t stop at kisses.
They went further. Right there. Up against the fence like rabid strays, no care for the world around them. The same hands that had cradled my growing belly only hours earlier were now locked around her waist, pulling her in as if I never existed.
I wanted to look away. But I couldn’t.
I stood frozen, every breath burning, bile rising in my throat, fists clenched until my nails pierced skin.
Then I heard their voices.
Amid their chaotic movements, they spoke.
No words of affection. No romance.
Only strategy.
“I told you Celeste would fall hard,” Kenji groaned, low and mocking. “Completely. She never saw it coming.”
Chloe’s breath hitched, but her words were sharp. “So what now?”
Kenji’s laugh was chilling. “Now? I’ve got everything. I’m inside her world. The money. Her name. The company. All of it—it’s practically mine already.”
“And after?” she asked, her tone laced with venom.
He leaned into her, whispering with glee. “After I crush her. Tear her apart. And then I hand everything over to you.”
Chloe chuckled darkly, stroking his cheek. “Good boy. I’ve waited three years to destroy her. I want what she stole—every last jewel, every cent of that legacy.”
My vision blurred.
My knees trembled.
He had lured me in, made me fall. And now he was going to gut everything—my trust, my legacy, my love—and deliver it to the imposter who had already taken enough.
Chloe.
The girl who had lived my life in my place.
The girl who was never meant to exist in my chapter.
But this isn’t a tragedy anymore. Not for me.
They tried to cast me as the fragile one. The lost one. The fool.
But I’m no longer a pawn in their cruel fairytale.
They wrote the beginning.
I’m finishing the ending.
And they’ll regret the day they ever underestimated me.
