LAUREN'S POV
The cramped walls of my studio apartment were freezing, but it was the only sanctuary I had. I had just gotten off a twelve-hour shift when the heavy thud of fists pounded against my front door, rattling the cheap hinges.
Before I could look through the peephole, the deadbolt snapped. My father, Richardson Vance, stepped into the room, his designer suit looking entirely out of place amidst my thrifted furniture. Behind him stood my mother, Tamara, her face pale, her eyes filled with the same visceral disgust she had looked at me with since I was a child.
"Pack a bag," my father ordered, his voice harsh. "You're coming with us."
"Get out," I spat, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I haven't spoken to you in five years. You don't get to barge in here."
My mother stepped forward, her perfectly manicured hand striking my cheek with a sharp, stinging slap that threw me off balance.
"Shut up and listen, you ungrateful mistake," she hissed, wiping her hand on her coat as if touching me had soiled her. "Serena is gone. There's blood all over her penthouse, and Julian Cross is going to tear our company to the ground if he finds out his wife is missing. You look exactly like her. You are going to put on her clothes, walk into that penthouse, and smile until we find her."
I stared at them in absolute horror. "You want me to fake a marriage to a literal mob boss?" I spat, my voice shaking.
"We don't want to use you, believe me," my father said coldly, tossing a massive diamond ring onto my table. "You're a pathetic copy of your sister. But you owe us for giving you life.
If you don't do this, Julian won't just kill us. We'll make sure he finds you, too."
I stared at the diamond ring glittering under the flickering bulb of my kitchen. It was obnoxiously large, exactly the kind of gaudy stone Serena would have demanded.
"You're out of your minds," I said, my voice trembling but laced with absolute defiance. "I'm not doing it. I don't care about your company, and I don't care about Julian Cross."
My father lunged, his hand wrapping around my upper arm with a bruising grip. "You don't have a choice, Lauren! Julian isn't just a businessman. He's a monster. If he thinks we had anything to do with Serena's disappearance, he will slaughter us. And when he's done with us, he will hunt you down. You think hiding in this miserable slum will protect you from him?"
"I didn't do anything!" I yelled, trying to yank my arm away. "This is your mess. Yours and Serena's."
"We share blood," my mother snapped, pulling a garment bag from the hallway and tossing it onto my lumpy sofa. "To Julian, that makes you complicit. Now, take off those rags."
"No."
"Take them off," my father roared, shoving me toward the couch. "Or I will drag you out of here by your hair and throw you at Julian's feet myself."
I caught myself on the armrest, my cheek still burning from my mother's slap. They weren't bluffing. The sheer panic in my father's eyes told me everything I needed to know. The untouchable Richardson Vance was terrified.
"Where is she?" I asked, my breathing shallow. "If there's blood... is she dead?"
"She is not dead," my mother said, her voice wavering for a fraction of a second before her cold mask slid back into place. "Serena is a survivor. She's just... missing. And you are going to buy us time."
"By walking into a mob boss's home?" I laughed, a bitter, breathless sound. "He's her husband. He'll know the second he looks at me. We might share a face, but I don't know how to be her."
"You don't need to know anything," my father sneered, adjusting his cuffs. "Julian and Serena despise each other. They barely share the same oxygen, let alone a bed. You just have to sit there, look arrogant, and keep your mouth shut."
My mother unzipped the garment bag. Inside was a sleek, black designer dress. The kind that cost more than my apartment's rent for an entire year. "Put it on. We don't have all night. Julian is flying back from Chicago in two hours."
I looked at the dress, then at the ring on the table. Five years. I had spent five years scraping by, working night shifts at a diner, paying my own way through life just to be free of them. And in five minutes, they had dragged me right back into their poison.
"If I do this," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "If I play your sick game... you leave me alone forever. You sign over the deed to my identity. You erase me from your records. I never want to see your faces again."
My father scoffed. "Gladly."
I snatched the dress from the sofa and walked into my tiny bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I stripped off my grease-stained uniform with shaking hands. Slipping the silk over my skin felt like stepping into a cage. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. Serena and I were identical down to the bone. But where she was polished marble, I was chipped stone.
I stared at the mirror. I grabbed a brush and tore it through my tangled hair, smoothing it down until it resembled my sister's sleek style. I didn't have her expensive makeup, but I pinched my cheeks until they flushed and bit my lips to bring color to them.
When I stepped out, my mother scrutinized me. She grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my skin.
"Posture," she snapped, yanking my shoulders back. "Serena doesn't slouch like a peasant. And put the ring on."
I picked up the heavy platinum band from the table. As I slid it onto my left ring finger, a cold shiver ran down my spine. It felt like a handcuff.
"Let's go," my father said, already heading out the broken door.
The drive into the city was suffocating. Rain lashed against the tinted windows of my father's town car. The sprawling metropolis blurred past, the neon lights of the underground clubs giving way to the towering glass skyscrapers of the elite. A world I was born into but never allowed to touch.
Neither of my parents spoke. They were too busy texting frantically on their phones, trying to manage the fallout of Serena's disappearance.
"What happened in the penthouse?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"A broken window," my father replied without looking up. "A lot of blood. The security cameras were wiped."
"And Julian's men?"
"Silas, his right hand, found the scene," my father said. "He called us before calling Julian. Silas is a pragmatist. He knows if Julian finds out Serena was taken or killed under our watch, the merger is void, and Julian goes to war. Silas gave us a window to 'fix' it."
"Silas is in on this?" I asked, my stomach dropping.
"Silas cares about keeping the peace," my mother interjected smoothly. "He doesn't care about you, or Serena. As long as Julian sees his wife when he walks through the door, Silas will look the other way."
The car pulled up to a massive, steel-and-glass skyscraper. The Cross Tower.
My heart hammered wildly against my ribs.
This was it. There was no going back.
We bypassed the lobby, taking a private, gold-plated elevator straight to the top floor.
The silence in the elevator was deafening. The digital numbers ticked upward, sealing my fate.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
My parents didn't step out. My father hit the lobby button.
"We aren't going in with you," he said coldly as the doors began to close. "Remember, Lauren. You are Serena. Act like it, or we all die."
The doors snapped shut, leaving me standing alone in a dimly lit, sprawling foyer.
The penthouse was massive, cold, and entirely devoid of life. Black marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rain-slicked city, and modern art that looked like it belonged in a museum.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
No answer.
I took a cautious step forward, the click of my borrowed designer heels echoing like gunshots in the empty space. As I rounded the corner into the main living area, the metallic scent of copper hit me before the visual did.
My breath caught in my throat.
A massive glass coffee table was shattered into a thousand pieces. The floor-to-ceiling window leading out to the balcony had a spiderweb of cracks, a large hole smashed completely through the center. Rain poured into the pristine room.
And on the white rug, a dark, crimson stain was rapidly soaking into the fibers. Blood. So much blood.
My knees went weak. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. What had she done? Who had done this to her?
"Don't look so surprised, Serena."
The voice came from the shadows near the kitchen. Deep, rough, and laced with so much malice it made my blood run cold.
I spun around. A man stepped out of the darkness. He wasn't Julian. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his face entirely impassive, his eyes dead and calculating. He held a silenced pistol in his right hand.
"Silas," I breathed, praying I was right.
When Serena and Julian got married a year ago, I was at the wedding. I watched as she walked down the aisle guided by mom. Her fake smile spreading across her rosy lips. Julian's gaze was distant and unreadable. Also, the icy glare of his only best man, Silas. Thank goodness I was good with memories.
He tilted his head, his cold eyes raking over me. "The cleaners are five minutes out. We have exactly twenty minutes before the boss walks through those doors."
What the hell happened, I wanted to ask. I swallowed.
He stepped closer, invading my space. Up close, he was terrifying. "Your father told me he found a solution. I didn't believe him. But here you are."
"I—" I started, my voice catching.
Silas grabbed my jaw, his grip significantly harsher than my mother's. He inspected my face like I was a piece of meat at a market.
"You look just like the bitch," he muttered. "But your eyes are terrified. Serena is never terrified. She's too arrogant." He dropped his hand abruptly. "Fix your face. If Julian suspects for a second that you aren't his wife, I won't just kill your parents. I'll put a bullet between your eyes myself."
"I understand," I said, forcing my spine straight. I channeled every ounce of hatred I had for my family into my posture. I hardened my gaze, refusing to look away from his lethal stare.
Silas watched the shift, a dark smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Better."
He flicked his fingers and a guard hulky and tall appeared from the corner.
"Clean this up." He ordered gently, pointing at the rug.
The hulky man nodded once and disappeared, reappearing shortly after with three maids who took the blood-stained rug and replaced it with a new one. No question asked, their heads bowed low.
This place is weird.
Before I could ask any questions, the sound of the private elevator dinging echoed through the penthouse.
Silas checked his watch. "He's early." He turned to me, his eyes lethal. "Showtime, Mrs. Cross."
Heavy, deliberate footsteps sounded in the foyer. Every step felt like a countdown to my execution. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy.
I turned toward the hallway just as Julian Cross stepped into the light. He was violently handsome, radiating absolute power and danger. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. But it was his eyes that paralyzed me. They were pitch black, and they looked at me with a hatred so profound it stole the breath from my lungs.
He paused, glaring daggers at me as if he was two seconds away from strangling me.
Suddenly, he began stalking toward me, not even glancing at the broken floor-to-ceiling window. I began stalking back, taking my steps backwards until my bag hit the wall.
He didn't stop until he was inches from my face, his towering frame casting a shadow over me.
He grabbed my jaw, the rolex on his wrist catching the light.
"I saw your move with Parker. You disgust me, Serena," he said, his voice a lethal, vibrating whisper. "Don't think for a second this ring means I won't ruin you 'cos I will."