The Twin I Married Was Never Mine

It was my twenty-eighth birthday, and tonight was supposed to be unforgettable. In front of the entire Reyes family, Ethan and I were finally going to reveal the news I had longed to share for years—that we were expecting a baby.

I was heading outside to look for Ethan so we could announce it together. The guests had already gathered near the pool, their laughter spilling in through the open glass doors as I made my way down the hallway toward the deck.

Near the bar, I saw Ethan standing with three of his closest friends—men I had known since we were kids, men who had stood beside him at our wedding, men who were practically family.

I was just about to call out when one of them chuckled and said, “So, Mason, what’s it like sleeping beside the woman who turned you down for your brother?”

My steps halted.

A sharp ringing filled my ears.

Another one laughed and nudged him. “Seriously, she barely looked at you back then. She only wanted Ethan. But now look at you…”

Confused, I frowned, but before I could understand what they meant, a third friend smirked and said, “You really committed to the role. Pretending to be Ethan all these years just so you could end up with her? That’s insane.”

My chest tightened.

Pretending to be Ethan?

What were they talking about?

He was Ethan… wasn’t he?

Mason—Ethan’s identical twin—had died five years ago in a yacht accident. His death had devastated the entire Reyes family, especially Ethan and their father. His portrait still stood in the foyer, a reminder of the brother they had lost.

Mason had once been part of every part of my life. After my mother died, the Reyes family took me in and raised me alongside their sons. I was never officially adopted, but I grew up under their roof. Mason used to tease me, defend me, sit beside me at every dinner.

As we got older, both brothers fell in love with me.

And I chose Ethan.

After that, Mason and I slowly drifted apart—until the accident that supposedly killed him.

Then another voice broke through my thoughts.

“You spent four years acting like Ethan just to make her yours?”

My stomach dropped so violently I had to brace myself against the wall. I slowly looked around the pillar, forcing my eyes toward the man I had called my husband.

He leaned back and smiled.

And suddenly, something about that smile felt wrong.

His posture—too casual.

The smirk—too familiar.

It wasn’t Ethan.

It was Mason.

The realization slammed into me so hard I nearly lost my breath.

That expression—that arrogance hidden behind calm composure—belonged to Mason.

And all at once, every strange moment over the last four years came rushing back.

The tiny details I had ignored.

The moments that had never quite made sense.

One memory hit hardest.

A few months after our wedding, we were tangled in bed when he kissed my neck and whispered softly, “Baby…”

I remembered freezing.

Because Mason used to call me that years ago, back when feelings between us had started to grow—before I chose Ethan.

I had even laughed nervously and asked, “Why did you call me that? Are you… Mason?”

He had laughed, pulled me close, and brushed it off.

“Oh, sweetheart, you must be thinking about him. So now I can’t call you ‘baby’ because my brother used to? Are you trying to make me jealous?”

I had felt awful after that.

Ashamed for bringing up the past.

Ashamed for comparing them.

I convinced myself I was imagining things.

But now—

Now everything made sense.

And it was horrifying.

Before I could move, the sliding door behind them opened.

The laughter stopped.

A man stepped out from the house.

Tall. Calm. Perfectly composed in a dark suit.

The moment he appeared, the atmosphere shifted.

And pinned to his lapel was the Reyes family heir insignia.

The pin Ethan always wore.

Except tonight, it wasn’t on the man standing at the bar.

It was on the man walking toward him.

My breath caught.

Because they had the exact same face.

The same eyes.

The same features.

But the way this man carried himself—

The way he walked—

The way he looked at the world—

That was Ethan.

The real Ethan.

Mason smirked. “Well, look who finally decided to come home. And on your wife’s birthday, no less.”

Ethan’s expression hardened. “What are you doing, Mason? This has gone too far. I only asked you to stay with Clara for a while. Why does it sound like you’re hurting her? Where is she?”

Mason gave a careless laugh. “I’m not hurting her. She just never noticed. She was too trusting to realize the man beside her wasn’t the brother she chose—because the real Ethan was too busy chasing her stepsister, Chloe.”

Chloe.

My blood ran cold.

My father’s mistress’s daughter.

The woman whose existence shattered my family.

The reason my mother died.

And Ethan loved her?

My legs nearly gave out.

Every memory I had of him—every promise, every touch—suddenly felt like a cruel joke.

I had never seen it.

I had been blind.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t hand over my life so you could destroy hers.”

Mason’s face twisted. “Destroy hers? You ran away! She chose you, and you still ran to Chloe. It should’ve been me! But instead I had to live your lie. And now what? You’re back to reclaim your place? Ready to be her husband again?”

Ethan’s voice was cold. “I may have to. Father expects me to take over the business—”

Mason cut him off with a bitter laugh. “Then take it. But Father wants an heir, remember? It doesn’t matter whether that child comes from me or from you. And if you decide to take Clara back, you’ll have to live with the fact that she’s already been in my bed.”

Disgust flashed across Ethan’s face.

“I don’t want a woman who’s been touched by another man,” he said flatly. “Especially not by my own brother. Keep pretending to be me if you want. As long as I can stay with Chloe, I don’t care. Just remember this—Father wants Ethan as the heir. If you fail in my place, we lose everything.”