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Betrayed by Twin Lovers Novel Cover

Betrayed by Twin Lovers

The weight of the briefcase pulled at my arm as I stepped into the elevator of Vance's luxury high-rise. One million dollars in cash. Three years of my life compressed into stacks of bills, representing countless nights of degradation, fake smiles, and silent tears at that upscale nightclub. But it was worth it. For him, anything was worth it. My hand trembled slightly as I pressed the penthouse button. After today, Vance's financial troubles would be over. We could finally start building our future together—the one we'd planned for ten years, the one I'd sacrificed my dance scholarship to Paris for. The elevator doors opened to unusual silence. Normally, Vance's housekeeper would be bustling about, or his sound system would be playing soft jazz.
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Chapter 2

The broken pieces of my mother's bracelet were still clutched in my palm when Vance hauled me to my feet. The sharp edges cut into my skin, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the devastation tearing through my chest.

"You want forgiveness?" His voice was ice. "Then you'll earn it."

I stared at him, this stranger wearing a face I'd loved for ten years. "What?"

"St. Augustine Cathedral. Five miles from here." He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "You'll walk there barefoot and confess what you did to Aubree. Every sin. Every cruel word. Every moment of bullying."

"But I never—"

"Save it." Aubree's voice dripped with false sweetness as she perched on Vance's desk, examining her perfect nails. "The whole city will finally see you for what you really are."

Zen stood silent in the corner, his eyes fixed on the floor. For a moment, I thought I saw conflict flash across his features, but he said nothing.

Vance dragged me toward the door. When I instinctively reached for my shoes, he kicked them aside. "Barefoot. Like the beggar you are."

The lobby security didn't meet my eyes as Vance pushed me out onto the sidewalk. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, and the concrete was already hot beneath my feet. I took one step, then another, each movement sending shockwaves of humiliation through my body.

People stared. Of course they did.

A woman in designer sunglasses whispered to her companion, both turning to watch me pass. A businessman paused mid-call, his expression shifting from curiosity to disgust. Two teenage girls giggled behind their phones, probably already posting to social media.

"That's her," I heard someone say. "The Wright girl. Always knew she was trouble."

My feet burned. The rough pavement scraped my soles with each step, small cuts opening and beginning to bleed. I clutched the broken bracelet pieces tighter, feeling my mother's love in the twisted silver, the only real thing left in my shattered world.

One mile became two. My vision blurred—from tears or exhaustion, I couldn't tell anymore. The cathedral's spires appeared in the distance, wavering like a mirage.

"Look at her feet," someone gasped nearby. "Is she bleeding?"

"Probably deserves it," another voice replied. "I heard she's the one who bullied Aubree Wright for years."

The whispers followed me like a swarm of insects, each word another sting. My legs trembled with each step. Sweat soaked through my clothes. The sun seemed to press down on me with physical weight.

I thought about stopping. About collapsing right there on the sidewalk and refusing to move. But what would that accomplish? Vance would find another way to torture me. Aubree would smile that victorious smile. And I would still be broken, still be nothing.

So I kept walking.

The cathedral steps finally materialized before me. Fifty marble stairs leading up to massive wooden doors. I stared at them, my body swaying. People gathered at the bottom, phones out, capturing my humiliation for posterity.

"She's really going to do it," someone breathed.

I placed my foot on the first step. Blood smeared across the white marble. My leg buckled, but I caught myself against the railing. Second step. Third. Each one required every ounce of will I had left.

Fifteenth step. My vision tunneled, darkness creeping in from the edges. Twenty-third step. My knees gave out, and I caught myself with my hands, the bracelet pieces cutting deeper into my palm.

"Someone call an ambulance," a distant voice said.

Thirty-first step. Almost there. I could see the cathedral doors now, could almost feel the cool darkness inside. But my body had reached its limit.

The world tilted sideways. The marble steps rushed up to meet me, or perhaps I was falling. The crowd's voices faded to a dull roar. Someone screamed. Strong hands caught me before I hit the ground, but I was already gone, consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was the broken silver scattered across the steps—my mother's bracelet, the final piece of love in my life, now just glittering fragments mixed with my blood.

Then nothing.

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