Chapter 34
The cool night air bit at Sebastian’s skin as he stumbled toward his car, the world tilting and blurring into a kaleidoscope of neon and shadow. He reached for the door handle, but his knees buckled. Before he could hit the gravel, a pair of strong, slender arms caught him.
“Easy there, Sebastian,” a voice whispered.
It was Amara’s voice. The same honeyed tone, the same lilt, but it was laced with something sharper, something dangerous.
“Amara?” he slurred, looking up through bloodshot eyes. He saw the face he loved, the high cheekbones and soft lips, but the eyes were different. They weren’t filled with the warmth and grace of his wife; they were dark, predatory, and swirling with a complex hunger.
It was Amira.
She didn’t correct him. She simply hoisted his arm over her shoulder, her strength surprising for her frame. She didn’t take him to the hospital, and she certainly didn’t take him back to the mansion. Instead, she threw him into the passenger seat of her sleek, black sedan and drove him to a high-rise apartment on the outskirts of the city, a place where the shadows felt permanent.
The sun began to bleed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting the minimalist grey furniture. Amira sat in a velvet armchair across from the sofa where Sebastian lay unconscious.
She had spent the morning staring at him. She had even gone as far as to put on one of Amara’s old perfumes she’d kept for years. She adjusted her hair, styling it exactly how Amara wore hers for Sunday brunch. For thirteen years, she had lived in the shadow of the “perfect” twin. She had been the dark moon to Amara’s sun.
I am the only Amira Pedro Piers, she thought, her fingers tracing the line of her own jaw. She doesn’t deserve the name. She doesn’t deserve the wealth. And she definitely doesn’t deserve you.
She relished the identity crisis that gnawed at her soul. Sometimes, she forgot where Amara ended and she began. She wanted the life her sister had built, the man her sister had loved, and the power her sister had inherited.
Sebastian groaned, his eyelids fluttering. As his vision cleared, he saw “Amara” sitting there, bathed in the morning light, looking at him with a terrifyingly intense devotion.
“Amara… you stayed,” he rasped, reaching out a trembling hand.
Amira leaned forward, taking his hand and pressing it to her cheek. She didn’t tell him she was the sister who hated him. She didn’t tell him she was the one who had fled thirteen years ago.
“I’m here, Seb,” she whispered, a chilling smile touching her lips. “I’m the only one who’s ever really been here for you p>
The air in the apartment was thick with deception. To Sebastian, this woman, with her familiar scent and identical features, as the lifeline he had been drowning for. He didn’t notice the coldness in her touch or the way her eyes never truly softened when he spoke.
“Amara, I’m so sorry,” Seb choked out, clutching her hand like a prayer. “I was a fool. I let Elara get between us, I let her manipulate me… please, just tell me how to make it right p>
Amira tilted her head, a perfect imitation of her sister’s empathetic listening. She let him talk, let him weep, and let him reveal every crack in his armor.
“For now, I want us to meet in secret,” she whispered, her voice a silk trap. “I want Elara to feel exactly what I felt. I want her to watch everything she took slip through her fingers p>
“I can divorce her right now,” Seb said, his voice regaining a sudden, sharp confidence. “I’ll kick her out. I’ll take Seren and come back to you p>
“No,” Amira countered, her thumb tracing his palm. “You shouldn’t do that yet. Go home. Act as if nothing has changed. Let her think she’s won while we build our own world in the dark p>
Seb stood up, feeling a surge of misplaced hope. He looked revitalized, believing he had his “Amara” back in his corner. He kissed her forehead, a gesture that made Amira’s skin crawl with a thrill of disgust, and left the apartment, walking with the stride of a man who finally had a plan.
The moment the door clicked shut, the mask shattered.
Amira walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Seb’s car pull away. The “devotion” in her eyes vanished, replaced by a jagged, sharp laughter.
“You’re a pathetic man, Sebastian,” she whispered to the empty room. She realized in that moment that she didn’t actually want him. He was weak, easily fooled, and broken. But he was the perfect tool.
She didn’t want the man; she wanted the destruction. She wanted to tear down the “perfect” life Amara had built, to stain her sister’s reputation, and to leave everyone in the Creed and Pedro families wondering which twin the saint was and which was the devil.
“Time to go home,” she laughed, grabbing her coat. She wasn’t going to hide in this apartment. She was going to see her mother, and she was going to make sure the “real” Amara felt the ground shift beneath her feet.
The gates to the Pedro estate were golden and towering. Seren stood there alone, having been dropped off by a taxi Elara paid for with the last of the cash in Seb’s drawer.
Inside, Amara was sitting in the sunroom, sipping tea with Julian. She looked stronger, though her eyes still carried the weight of her loss.
“Miss Amara,” the butler announced, his voice uncertain. “There is a child at the gate. She says she’s your daughter p>
Amara’s hand froze, the teacup rattling against the saucer. Julian’s eyes darkened instantly. He knew exactly what this was: a Trojan horse sent by the woman who had ruined Amara’s life.
The sunroom was filled with a tension so thick it felt like the walls were closing in. Julian squeezed Amara’s shoulder, a silent promise of support before stepping out, though he stayed close enough to hear every word.
“Mummy! Mummy!” Seren cried, her small feet thundering against the marble floor as she lunged toward Amara.
“Stop,” Amara said, her voice like a sheet of ice. She didn’t move to catch the girl. She didn’t open her arms. “I’m not your mom, Seren. We both know that now p>
Seren skidded to a halt, her face crumpling. “No… you’re my mom! You’ve always been p>
Amara looked at the child, and for a split second, her heart flickered with the ghost of the love she used to feel. But then she remembered the warehouse. She remembered the blood. She remembered how this child’s father and “real” mother had left her to die.
“What do you want?” Amara asked, her tone flat and businesslike.
“I’m starting school soon,” Seren whimpered, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Can you give me $2 million? Elara said you have it p>
Amara let out a short, hollow laugh. “$2 million? For a six-year-old’s tuition? From what I know, Elara has luxury cars and villas in her name. Any one of them is worth at least $3 million. Why are you coming to me for money p>
“Dad gave them to her! She says they’re hers and she can’t sell them!” Seren grabbed Amara’s hand, her small fingers digging into Amara’s skin. “Mom, I’m begging you. Please p>
“Let go,” Amara said gently, but firmly.
“I’m not letting go!” Seren shouted, her voice turning into a desperate tantrum. “I’m not letting go until you give me the money! My mummy said you owe us p>
Amara felt the bile rise in her throat. Elara wasn’t just stealing her husband and her home; she was weaponizing a child to finish the job.
“She told you I owe you?” Amara whispered, leaning down so she was eye-level with the girl. “Does she know what I lost in that warehouse, Seren? Does she know that while you were eating noodles, I was losing your sibling because of her?” Amara said, yet Seren will not let go.
“Does your dad know you’re doing this? Let go, or I’ll call him!” Amara threatened her.
“No,” Seren said, moving forward to grab the phone as she slipped and hit her head. Now, the silence from the child was deafening. Amara looked down at Seren’s limp body, the dark blood pooling on the white marble floor, a terrifying echo of her own trauma.
“Ooops. Hey there, sister. Did you miss me p>
The voice hit Amara like a physical blow. She looked up to see the ghost of her past standing there, Amira, looking like a dark reflection in a cracked mirror. But there was no time for a reunion.
Amara’s maternal instinct, the one she thought had been destroyed in that warehouse, roared back to life. She scooped the unconscious girl into her arms.
“Get out of my way, Amira!” Amara hissed, her voice trembling but fierce.
“Why do you care about that brat anyway?” Amira asked, her eyes cold and clinical as she watched the blood drip onto Amara’s dress. “Why don’t you let her bleed out, just like they left you to bleed out in that warehouse? Don’t worry, as your good sister, I will get revenge for you. Give her to me p>
Amira reached out, her fingers like claws, trying to wrench the girl away.
“Stop it, Amira!” Amara shouted, pulling Seren tighter against her chest. “I don’t know why you are here, dressed like you’re sneaking into your own home, but I don’t have time for this. Step away p>
Amira’s expression shifted from mocking to a strange, unsettling compliance. “Oh, perfect, dear sister. Okay, there you go.” She stepped aside with a graceful, exaggerated bow, her hood pulled low to shadow her identical face. “Go play the hero. I’ll be inside, making myself at home p>
Amara didn’t wait to see her twin walk toward the main house. She ran for the driveway, screaming for the driver.