ADRIAN'S POV
The gun was pointed at my chest.
My mother—or the woman who looked exactly like my mother—stood five feet away with her finger on the trigger.
"Put the gun down," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Whatever Marcus told you, whatever he promised you—it's a lie."
"Oh, Adrian." She tilted her head, and something about the movement was wrong. Too calculated. Too cold. "Always so smart. Always thinking you can outsmart everyone. But you never suspected the truth, did you?"
Behind her, Iris stood frozen in the bedroom doorway. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. But she wasn't looking at the gun.
She was looking at something behind me.
I risked a glance backward.
Marcus Westbrook stood in the entrance to my penthouse, holding his own weapon. He must have come up the private elevator—the one only I had access to.
Which meant someone had given him the codes.
Someone on my security team had betrayed me.
"Surprised?" Marcus smiled. "You shouldn't be. Money buys loyalty, Adrian. You of all people should know that."
"What do you want?" I kept my hands visible, non-threatening. Buying time. "If this is about my father's company—"
"This isn't about the company." The woman with my mother's face stepped closer. "This is about justice. About making you pay for destroying the Hartwell family legacy."
My blood ran cold.
"You're not my mother," I said quietly. "My mother would never work with the man who killed her."
"Your mother was weak. She died twenty years ago, just like you thought." The woman's smile widened. "But I'm her twin sister. And I've been waiting a very long time to make you suffer the way my sister suffered."
Twin sister.
My mother had never mentioned a twin. Never said anything about family beyond me.
But looking at this woman's face—the same grey eyes, the same sharp cheekbones—I knew she was telling the truth.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Miranda." She moved closer, gun steady. "Your mother and I were separated at birth. Different families. Different lives. But when she died, when Marcus told me what happened—I swore I'd get revenge on everyone who hurt her."
"I didn't hurt her. Marcus did. He pushed her down those stairs—"
"Liar!" Miranda's hand shook with rage. "Marcus tried to save her. You're the one who caused her death. You're the reason she had to work in that horrible building, cleaning toilets for rich people who treated her like garbage. Because your father abandoned her. Because you weren't good enough."
The words hit like bullets.
Everything I'd believed for twenty years—that Marcus killed my mother—was it all wrong?
No. It couldn't be. I had evidence. Witnesses.
Didn't I?
"Iris," I said softly, not taking my eyes off Miranda. "Go to the bedroom. Lock the door."
"I'm not leaving you," Iris said. Her voice was shaking but determined.
"You need to run. Now. Please."
"How touching." Marcus laughed. "The cold-hearted Adrian Thorne, begging his fake wife to save herself. Tell me, does she know this marriage is just for your inheritance? Does she know you don't actually care about her?"
I saw Iris flinch from the corner of my eye.
"That's not true," I said. And I meant it. When had it become true? "Iris, don't listen to him—"
"Save your breath." Miranda raised the gun higher. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to transfer your entire fortune to Marcus. Every penny. Every asset. Everything you built on your father's grave."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I shoot your wife. Right here. Right now." Miranda's smile was cruel. "And you get to watch someone you love die. Just like I had to watch my sister's funeral from a distance, unable to even claim her body because no one knew I existed."
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
This was it. The moment I'd been dreading for twenty years. The moment someone finally found a weakness I couldn't protect.
Iris.
"Don't do it, Adrian," Iris said suddenly. She stepped out of the bedroom doorway, moving toward Miranda. "Don't give them anything."
"Iris, stop—"
"No." She kept walking, hands raised. "If you give them your money, your company, everything—they'll just kill us anyway. We both know that. So don't."
Miranda swung the gun toward Iris. "Brave little thing, aren't you? Stupid, but brave."
"Maybe." Iris stopped three feet from the gun. "But I know something you don't."
"What's that?"
Iris smiled. It was sharp and dangerous and so beautiful it made my chest ache.
"Adrian isn't the only one who's been planning revenge."
She moved fast—faster than I'd ever seen anyone move. Her hand came up holding something small and black, and suddenly the room was filled with blinding light.
Flashbang. Where did she get a flashbang?
I heard Miranda scream. Heard Marcus cursing. Heard my own heartbeat thundering as I lunged forward, grabbing for Miranda's gun.
We hit the floor hard. The weapon skittered away.
"Adrian, left side!" Iris shouted.
I rolled just as Marcus fired. The bullet hit the floor where my head had been a second ago.
Then chaos.
Security alarms blaring. James and his team bursting through the door. Guns everywhere. Shouting. Movement.
When the dust settled, Marcus and Miranda were on the floor, hands zip-tied behind their backs.
I sat up, breathing hard, and looked for Iris.
She was leaning against the wall, the flashbang device still in her hand, looking like she might pass out.
"Where did you get that?" I demanded, crawling toward her.
"Your security chief gave it to me this afternoon. Said if anything went wrong, I should use it." She laughed, high and shaky. "I thought he was joking."
I pulled her into my arms, holding her so tight she made a small sound of protest.
"You could have been killed," I whispered into her hair. "You should have run."
"I told you. I'm not leaving you."
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
Against every instinct, I opened it.
What I saw made my blood turn to ice.
It was a photo—taken just now, from inside my penthouse. Showing me holding Iris, surrounded by security and two people on the floor.
Below the image: *Nice try. But you arrested the wrong people. I'm the real Miranda. Your mother's twin. And while you were busy with my actors, I just accessed your private server. I have every file. Every secret. Every piece of evidence you've ever collected. And in exactly 24 hours, unless you do exactly what I say, I'm releasing it all to the press. Including the truth about how your father really died. Sleep well, Adrian. Tomorrow, your empire burns. —M*
I looked at the woman on my floor. The one I'd thought was my mother's twin.
She was smiling.
"She's right," the fake Miranda said. "We were just the distraction. And you fell for it perfectly.