Chapter 2 of Revenge for My Twin Sis

I barely had time to react before Duke’s lips crashed against mine.

My breath caught in my throat as his firm grip settled on my waist, pulling me closer. His lips were warm, demanding, yet controlled, as if he were claiming what was already his. My entire body tensed, my hands hovering midair, unsure whether to push him away or play my part.

I chose the latter.

Slowly, I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my trembling fingers. The heat from his body seeped through his crisp suit, making my skin prickle. The cheers from the crowd grew louder, their applause ringing in my ears, drowning out the frantic thoughts racing through my mind.

This was it.

I had sealed my fate.

Just as Duke pulled away, a loud commotion erupted outside the church doors. My heart lurched. The muffled sound of angry shouts grew louder, overlapping with the excited murmurs of the guests. I turned my head instinctively, trying to see what was happening beyond the stained-glass windows.

Then, a gunshot.

A deafening crack that made the chandeliers tremble.

Screams followed, panicked and urgent. Guests started shifting uneasily in their seats, some already standing, whispering in alarm.

I barely had time to process what was happening before my feet moved on their own. I stepped away from Duke, my pulse thundering as I made my way toward the entrance, but before I could take another step, a firm grip closed around my wrist.

Duke.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, filled with authority.

I turned to him, my pulse hammering against my ribs. "Someone just fired a gun, Duke. I need to—"

“It’s dangerous,” he cut me off. “Stay here.”

His sharp blue eyes locked onto mine, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look afraid. He didn’t even look surprised.

That sent a chill down my spine.

Before I could demand an explanation, my father appeared beside us, his face dark with something unreadable. He barely acknowledged Duke before gripping my arm and pulling me aside, leading me toward the shadowed corner of the church.

“We need to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

I barely kept up with his pace. “Dad, what the hell is going on?”

He exhaled sharply, glancing toward the chaos outside before looking back at me. "Those people outside… they're not just protesters, Mi— Britney. They're grieving families. Farmers."

I frowned. "Farmers?"

"Their loved ones were killed," he said quietly. "And word on the streets is that Duke Trayson is responsible."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“What?”

My father didn’t respond. Instead, he let his words hang between us, heavy and suffocating.

Duke. A murderer.

It didn’t make sense.

I turned my head slowly, my gaze landing on Duke, who was still standing near the altar, watching me with a gaze that was impossible to decipher. His posture remained relaxed, unaffected by the uproar outside.

As if this was nothing new.

As if he had expected this.

A sick feeling twisted in my stomach.

Before I could press for more answers, the doors of the church shook violently as something banged against them from the outside. Guests gasped, some already rushing toward the exits. Security guards shouted orders, their guns drawn as they pushed back against the crowd.

"We need to leave," my father said urgently.

I barely turned to face him before another familiar hand wrapped around my wrist.

Duke.

"We're going to the rooftop," he said simply.

I stared at him, my mind still reeling. "Duke, are you even going to explain what's happening? Why are people saying you—"

"It doesn't matter right now." His grip tightened slightly. "You're my wife now. That means your safety comes first."

I didn’t get the chance to argue.

Duke was already pulling me toward a hidden staircase behind the altar. My father followed closely behind, his expression grim. The steps were steep, spiraling higher and higher, and my wedding dress made it even harder to move.

By the time we reached the rooftop, my legs were burning, my breath coming in shallow gasps. But all of that disappeared when I saw the helicopter.

Its blades were already spinning, slicing through the cold night air. Several of Duke’s men were stationed nearby, their hands resting over their weapons, their gazes sharp as they scanned the perimeter.

Duke wasted no time guiding me toward the open door. "Get in."

I hesitated.

"Britney." His voice was firm. "Now."

I swallowed hard before stepping inside, settling onto the leather seat beside my father. Duke climbed in after me, nodding toward the pilot. Within seconds, the helicopter lifted off, the ground below shrinking as we soared into the sky.

Through the window, I could see the mob gathered outside the church, their voices drowned beneath the roar of the blades. Some were crying. Some were furious. But all of them had one thing in common.

They wanted Duke Trayson to pay for something.

And I needed to find out what.

Days passed, and my new life as Mrs. Trayson felt like a carefully rehearsed lie.

Duke was gone most of the time, locked in meetings or vanishing for hours without a word. When we did cross paths, his gaze always lingered on me a second too long, as if he was waiting for something.

But what?

I forced myself to play the role of the perfect wife. The perfect mother.

Every night, I sat beside Lukas’ bed, reading bedtime stories in the same soft tone Britney used. Every morning, I smiled over breakfast, watching the little boy eat while Duke watched me.

But beneath my mask, I was investigating.

I reached out to Fay, my personal assistant—the only person who will find out the truth.

"Find out everything you can about Duke," I whispered into my phone one evening, locked inside the bathroom. "I don’t care how dangerous it is. Just do it."

Fay hesitated. "Mia, are you sure?"

"I need answers." My grip tightened around the phone.

If I was going to be trapped in this marriage, I needed to know who I was married to.

But before I could get those answers, everything changed.

One reckless, heated night shattered the fragile walls I had built around myself.

Duke came home late, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up. His sharp blue gaze locked onto mine as he entered our dimly lit bedroom.

Something about him felt different that night.

More intense. More dangerous.

I should have left.

I should have walked away.

But I didn’t.

His fingers brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands found my waist, pulling me against him, his breath warm against my ear.

"You’re my wife now," he murmured. "Start acting like it."

I let him kiss me.

And for the first time, I kissed him back.

The next morning, my body ached in ways I never thought possible.

But something else had changed.

The nausea came first.

Then the dizziness.

At first, I thought it was just stress.

But when the symptoms didn’t go away, I knew.

I drove myself to the doctor, sitting in a cold, sterile room as they ran the tests.

And when the doctor finally spoke, my world crumbled.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Trayson. You’re pregnant."