The sound of footsteps retreated and faded into the distance, leaving behind an echoing silence that pressed heavily against the walls. Ava stood frozen, her heart pounding hard enough to drown out her thoughts. The house felt too quiet, too unfamiliar—every shadow stretched longer than it should have.
Lucas didn't move immediately. He remained near the doorway, the dim light outlining the sharp angles of his face. There was something different about him now—stripped bare, cornered by truths he could no longer outrun.
"They're gone," he said at last, his voice low. "For tonight."He lowered his guy.
Ava let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She turned to face him fully, arms wrapped around herself as though to keep her emotions from spilling out. "You said you needed to tell me something," she said. "So tell me."
Lucas's jaw tightened. He looked away briefly, then back at her, as if making a decision that could not be undone. "What I'm about to say changes everything," he said quietly. "And once you hear it, you won't be able to forget it."
Her stomach twisted. "Try me."
He took a slow step closer, stopping a careful distance away. "I have a twin brother."
Ava blinked. "A… twin?"
"Yes," Lucas said. "Identical."
The word echoed in her mind, colliding with everything she had seen earlier—his fear, the men lurking nearby, the tension that never seemed to leave him. "You never told me," she said softly.
"There are many things I never told you."
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "His name is Thomas. We look exactly alike, but that's where the similarity ends. While I followed the rules, stayed within the family's expectations… Thomas didn't care. About the family. The business. The company. Any of it."
Ava listened in silence, her pulse quickening.
"He mixed with the wrong people early on," Lucas continued. "Gangs. Illegal dealings. Things my father spent years trying to bury. We covered for him more times than I can count."
His voice hardened. "Then one day, while he was in another state, he got involved in a gang fight. It escalated. Guns were drawn."
Lucas swallowed. "Thomas shot someone. The man died."
Ava's breath caught.
"The victim was the son of an influential family," Lucas said. "Powerful. Untouchable. The kind of people who don't go to the police—they take matters into their own hands."
Her fingers trembled at her sides. "Did… did your family know?"
"No," he said immediately. "Not at first. Thomas disappeared. We thought he was just running wild again. Then one of my father's allies warned us. Told us what was coming."
Lucas's eyes darkened. "They were looking for Thomas."
Ava nodded slowly. "So why—"
"They found me instead," he said.
The words settled like a weight between them.
"They think I'm him," Lucas continued. "We're identical. Same face. Same build. Same voice, even. To them, it doesn't matter. They believe we owe them a blood debt."
A chill ran through Ava. "They want revenge."
"They want my life," he said plainly. "They believe I killed their son. And they won't stop until they take one in return."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Your family tried to fix it?"
"Yes," Lucas said. "My father tried everything. Money. Influence. Apologies. His lips pressed into a thin line. "Nothing worked."
Ava stared at him, her emotions colliding violently—fear, anger, sympathy, disbelief. "So you ran."
"I had to," he said. "This city is far from where it happened. This house is one of our properties. Nobody here knows us. My father keeps us off social media—his rule. No unnecessary exposure. No scandals."
She let out a shaky laugh. "And the company?"
Lucas's mouth curved bitterly. "Ours. All of it. But instead of sitting around doing nothing, I work as staff. Keeps suspicion low. Keeps me moving."
Ava shook her head slowly, overwhelmed. "You've been living someone else's life."
"And lying by omission," he said. "Every day."
She felt a strange ache in her chest. Part of her was deeply touched—by the weight he carried, by the restraint, by the way he kept standing despite it all. But another part of her burned with anger.
"You should have told me," she said, her voice trembling. "Do you know how it feels to realize the person you trust most has been hiding something this big?"
"I know," Lucas said quietly.
"No," she snapped, tears stinging her eyes. "You don't. Because I didn't even get the chance to choose."
Silence fell between them again.
"Where… where am I supposed to sleep?" Ava asked quietly.
Lucas seemed caught off guard for a second, then lifted his hand, pointing down the hallway. "The room opposite mine," he said. "It's the visitor's room."
She nodded, murmured a soft thank you, and turned away.
Her footsteps felt heavy as she walked down the hallway—weighted with everything she couldn't say, everything she didn't yet understand.
---
The door creaked softly as Ava stepped into the visitor's room.
She froze.
The room was breathtaking.
Soft, ambient lighting spilled across polished wooden floors. The bed was wide, dressed in crisp white sheets layered with silk throws the color of deep wine. Heavy curtains framed tall windows, and a faint scent of cedar and clean linen lingered in the air. A plush armchair sat near a marble-topped side table, and a modern painting—subtle, expensive, abstract—hung perfectly aligned on the wall.
Everything about the room whispered wealth. Quiet, effortless wealth.
Ava swallowed.
This room alone was more refined than her entire apartment. Even her father's house—warm, loving, familiar—couldn't compare to this kind of luxury.
So this is who he really is, she thought.
Not just Lucas. Not just the man who laughed with her and shared late-night talks. But someone from a world far beyond what she had imagined.
She sat slowly on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking beneath her weight like it was designed to hold only comfort.
Her thoughts drifted home.
Her mother would probably be in the living room by now, humming softly as she folded laundry. Her father might be dozing in front of the television, pretending not to be tired. Her siblings—laughing, arguing, alive with noise and warmth.
She had always been loved there. Protected.
If they knew where she was right now… if they knew the danger surrounding her—
Her chest tightened.
All she wanted in that moment was her mother's arms. The warmth of her hug. The way she smelled like home and safety.
Tears slipped down Ava's cheeks silently.
She hadn't left home because she was unhappy. She had left chasing a dream—financial independence, a greener pasture, a future she could be proud of.She hadn't known it would lead her here.
---
Across the hall, Lucas lay awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His room was darker, simpler, stripped of unnecessary elegance. A wide bed. Neutral tones. Clean lines. Everything carefully controlled.
Just like him.
But control had abandoned him tonight.
Ava's face haunted his thoughts—the fear in her eyes, the disbelief, the hurt. It cut deeper than any threat ever could.
He had expected anger.
He hadn't expected doubt.
That was what hurt the most.
---
Hours passed.
The house remained silent.
Eventually, Ava sat up. Her throat felt dry, her head heavy. She needed water.
She stepped into the hallway cautiously, the unfamiliar space disorienting. One door. Another. She guessed.
She opened one.
And froze.
Lucas jerked upright instantly, already awake.
"I— I'm so sorry," Ava blurted out, embarrassment rushing to her cheeks. "I was looking for the kitchen."
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It's… it's downstairs. Second door to the right."
"Thank you," she said quickly, turning to leave.
"Ava."
His voice stopped her.
"Please… wait."
She hesitated, then slowly turned back.
Lucas stood from the bed.
He was bare from the waist up, wearing only fitted pants that sat low on his hips. The soft light outlined his form—broad shoulders, defined arms, the subtle tension in his posture. He looked undone. Vulnerable.
Ava noticed.
She couldn't help it.
Her breath caught slightly, her gaze flickering away too late.
Lucas took a step toward her, then another. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "I never wanted to scare you. Or make you doubt me."
Emotion burned behind his eyes. He was too close now—close enough for her to feel his warmth, to hear the uneven rhythm of his breathing.
"Ava… please," he whispered. "Just one kiss."
She didn't answer.
Didn't move.
Lucas stood in front of her, close enough that Ava could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His eyes searched her face, dark and raw, as if she held something he was afraid to lose.
When he leaned in this time, there was no hesitation.
His lips brushed her neck slowly, deliberately, tracing a path that made her breath hitch before she could stop it. The kiss lingered there—warm, unhurried—his mouth learning her skin as if committing it to memory. Ava's back pressed into the door without her realizing she had moved.
Lucas's hand came up, settling firmly at her waist, fingers spreading like he needed to anchor himself to her. The touch wasn't rough, but it was possessive in a way that made her pulse jump.
Then his lips found hers.
The kiss was deep—slow at first, then heavier, hungrier. Not rushed. Not careless. It was the kind of kiss that made time blur, that stole breath and thought alike. Ava felt it everywhere—the press of his body, the warmth of him, the quiet sound he made when she responded.
She did respond.
Her hands slid up his bare chest instinctively, feeling muscle beneath warm skin, the subtle tension there. Lucas groaned softly, barely audible, as if the sound escaped him before he could stop it. He pinned her more firmly to the door now, his body a solid heat against hers, his mouth claiming hers like it had been waiting far too long.
Their breaths tangled. Soft sounds slipped between kisses. The world narrowed until there was nothing but closeness and heat and the dangerous pull between them.
It was intoxicating.
Too intoxicating.
Ava broke the kiss abruptly, turning her face away, chest rising and falling fast. Her hands pressed against his chest—not to pull him closer this time, but to stop him.
"No," she whispered, voice unsteady. "Lucas… stop."
He froze instantly.
She stepped out from between him and the door, her eyes shining, lips swollen, emotions written all over her face. "If we keep going," she said, barely above a breath, "I won't be able to think. And I need to think."
Lucas nodded slowly, pain flickering across his features. "I understand."
She opened the door, pausing only for a second. "Goodnight, Lucas."
Then she left.
Ava didn't stop walking until she reached the visitor's room.
She shut the door quietly behind her and leaned against it, her breathing uneven, her chest tight. The silence pressed in on her, louder now than it had been all night.
Her lips still tingled.
She lifted her fingers to them slowly, as if touching them would confirm that the kiss had been real—that she hadn't imagined the way his mouth had claimed hers, the way her body had responded before her mind could catch up.
She closed her eyes.
Lucas.
His touch. His apology. The raw hurt in his voice.
Why did it hurt so much to walk away?
Ava slid down until she was sitting on the floor, knees drawn to her chest. Her heart felt split in two—one half screaming at her to run, to protect herself, to remember the danger tied to his name. The other half whispered his name like a prayer she wasn't ready to give up.
She pressed her forehead against her knees.
Back home, her mother would be awake by now, checking the doors, whispering goodnight prayers. Her father would have told her she was brave. Her siblings would tease her, make her laugh, remind her who she was.
Here, she was alone—with feelings she hadn't planned for and a man she shouldn't want this much.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"I came here for my dreams," she whispered into the quiet room. "Not… this."
Yet her body still remembered him. Still missed him. Still wanted him.
Across the hall, Lucas sat on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing.
He could still feel her warmth. Still hear the way her breath had caught when she kissed him back. Still see the way she had looked at him right before she pulled away—torn, aching, human.
He had scared her.
And somehow… he had fallen even deeper.
The house held its breath.
Two people awake. Two hearts tangled. Neither sure what morning would bring.
And Ava, staring at the ceiling, realized something that made her chest tighten even more—
Walking away from Lucas
might be the hardest thing she'd ever done.