While he was busy eating, my mind drifted…
It all started a week ago.
Back then, I was genuinely happy—floating-on-clouds kind of happy. I had just found out I was pregnant with his child. Not one. But twins.
I remember staring at the ultrasound screen, my hands trembling, heart pounding. It felt surreal. Like life had finally decided to give me something beautiful. I couldn’t wait to tell him. I even had this ridiculous plan to surprise him—had the scan wrapped up like a tiny gift in my purse.
I got to his apartment early that day, all smiles and butterflies. But as I reached the door, I heard voices. The door was cracked open just enough for sound to spill out.
Jake was laughing.
“She’s easy to fool,” he said, voice casual, amused. “I just pretend to love her. All of this? It’s just payback for what her family did to Lila.”
I froze.
Inside, his friend barked a laugh. “Damn, man. You’re seriously taking this revenge thing to the next level.”
“You think?” Jake chuckled. “She buys everything. Acts like we’re soulmates or something. She’s so desperate to be loved, it’s almost pathetic. Boring in bed, too. Like tasteless water. Not like my Lila. My fucking sweet Lila. She’s wild. She knows how to drive a man crazy. I always finish with her.”
Laughter echoed again, sharp and cruel. I felt the sting in my chest like a blade twisting deep—but I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Lila.
The girl who lived my life.
Not by accident. Not fate.
But because of a choice.
When I was born, my parents were over the moon. First and only child to a powerful family with a name that carried weight in every room it entered. But their trusted maid—Marga—had her own secrets. She was pregnant too, though no one knew. She kept it hidden with loose dresses and silence. The father? A smooth-talking conman who disappeared the second he found out.
Marga gave birth just hours after my mother did. A baby girl. No future. No name. No father. Just shame.
So she did the unthinkable. She swapped us.
She placed her daughter in my mother’s arms and stole me for herself. She raised me for a few years under the illusion of devotion, until tragedy struck—she vanished. No note. No trail. Just gone. I was dumped into the system, shuffled through cold homes and colder hearts, while her daughter—Lila—grew up as royalty. Wearing my clothes. Sleeping in my bed. Calling my parents hers.
They had no idea. No one did.
Until Lila’s car crash changed everything.
She had been drunk, furious, spoiled beyond saving. The blood test revealed the first crack in the lie. Quiet DNA tests followed. Private investigations. And then came me.
The daughter they never stopped missing. The one they thought was gone forever.
They found me in the orphanage. They brought me home like a miracle. Guilt written in every hug. Apologies tucked in every gift.
And Lila? She was torn from the world she believed was hers. Kicking. Screaming. And eventually—exiled.
She lost everything in one breath. And she blamed me.
“I’ll make you pay!” she’d said. “You stole my life. Now I’m stealing yours.”
Back then, I thought it was just heartbreak talking.
But now, as I watched Jake eat the dinner I made with shaking hands and a shattered heart, I realized—
She meant every word.
Jake was part of it. Maybe the whole time. Maybe this was always her revenge. I thought I knew what I was doing, what I was getting myself into. I thought we were building something real.
But I had no idea. I had no idea about the dark corners of his heart.
And now, I find myself here, pregnant with his twins, and everything’s crashing down. Because of Lila. Because of their past.
They don’t even know what’s coming.
But I do. I’m not the villain in their story. I’m writing my own story now.
And screw them for thinking I’ll keep playing the part they wrote for me.
Then that night, while we slept, he held me like a chain around my neck—tight, suffocating. His arms were heavy across my waist, his breath warm against my skin. A part of me wanted to believe it was love. Another part wanted to scream.
He thought I was deeply asleep.
So when he gently peeled himself away, when he moved with practiced silence, I didn’t stir.
I waited until he left the room.
Then I followed him.
Barefoot and breathless, I crept through the apartment like a ghost, heart pounding loud enough to shake the walls. The door clicked shut behind him, and I stepped outside moments later, the cool air hitting me like ice.
I saw them by the gate.
In the dark.
He didn’t even hesitate.
He pulled her in and kissed her like he was starving—wild, desperate, rabid. And she kissed him back with equal hunger, like they were two animals finally off the leash.
Then they didn’t just kiss.
They couldn’t wait. Right there, against the metal fence, like dogs in heat. The way he bent her over, gripping her hips with the same hands that had cradled my stomach just hours before—it made me want to puke.
But I couldn’t look away.
I watched in frozen horror, bile rising in my throat, pain blooming like fire in my chest. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into skin.
And then I heard them.
Even in the sick rhythm of their bodies, they talked.
Not sweet nothings. Not love.
Schemes.
“I told you Clarisse'd fall for me,” Jake panted, low and vicious. “Completely. Helplessly. It was almost too easy.”
Lila moaned, but her voice was full of venom. “And now?”
“Now I’m totally inside her world,” he said. “The money. The inheritance. The company. Everything that comes with her name—it's almost mine.”
“And after?” Lila whispered, arching into him.
He laughed. Cold and cruel. “After? I break her. Destroy her. And hand it all over to you.”
“Good boy," Lila purred smugly. "Three years of playing Clarise is enough. I want the money and diamonds she stole from me."
My vision blurred. My knees nearly buckled.
He wanted me to fall for him. And when I did—when I finally let my guard down—he was going to rip it all away. My love. My legacy. My life.
And hand it to the girl who wasn’t even supposed to exist in my story.
Lila.
The girl who lived my life.
The girl who was supposed to be me.
But I’m done being the victim in their twisted fairytale.
They wrote me into a tragedy.
But I’m rewriting the ending.
And they would regret ever underestimating me.
