MARRIED TO MY BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND, PREGNANT FOR HIS TWIN BROTHER

Rosaline’s Pov

The world didn’t stop spinning. I stared at the clinic’s glass doors, the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol still clinging to my skin. The words six weeks kept repeating in my head.

“Rosaline, look at me.”

Crystal stepped into my line of sight, her blue eyes searching mine. She reached for my shoulders and held them firmly, forcing me to focus on her instead of the thoughts racing through my head.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

“Listen to me,” Crystal said, slipping into that serious tone she always used whenever things got bad. “Don’t spiral. Not yet. Hospitals make mistakes. Lab errors happen all the time. A false positive is entirely possible.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “A false positive? Crystal, the timing is oddly specific. Six weeks. One night. One mistake with the wrong brother.”

“You only slept with him once,” she reminded me, tightening her grip on my shoulders. “The odds aren’t a hundred percent. Maybe you’re just stressed. Your period could be late because of your mother, because of everything that’s happened. The body does strange things when you’re grieving.”

“The doctor didn’t say I was stressed.” My eyes dropped to my stomach. It was still flat, still completely normal, but I couldn’t look at it the same way anymore. A strange mixture of fear and protectiveness settled over me. “She said I was pregnant.”

“One test isn’t enough to build a life around,” Crystal insisted. She guided me toward her car, lowering her voice as if someone might overhear us.

I nodded, but even I knew I didn’t believe her.

Something felt different. I couldn’t explain it, but deep down, I knew. There was a heaviness inside me that hadn’t been there before.

“And Donald?” I asked as Crystal opened the passenger door.

Crystal stopped. Her expression immediately turned serious.

“You tell him nothing. Not a word. Not until we know for sure. If you tell him now and it turns out to be a mistake, you’ve just planted a seed of doubt that will rot your marriage from the inside out. And if it’s true…” She hesitated. “Well, we have time to figure out a cover story.”

“A cover story.” I repeated the words slowly. They left a bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m already living a cover story.”

“Exactly. So just keep the mask on. Smile, be the grieving daughter, be the loving wife. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know if I can even breathe, Crystal.”

“You can. You have to. For the baby or for the sake of not having a baby. Just hold it together.”

I climbed into the car, the leather seat cold against my thighs. The drive home passed in a blur. I stared out the window as Manhattan moved around me, the skyscrapers rising into the sky as if nothing in the world had changed.

But my world had.

Once I got inside the house, the silence felt almost unbearable. I went straight to the dining room, where my laptop was still sitting open.

Franklin Hart.

I typed the name into the search bar and hit enter.

No results found.

I frowned and tried again.

Frank Hart.

Nothing.

Hart Industries.

Still nothing.

Franklin Hart New York.

Nothing.

I stared at the screen.

It was impossible.

The note had been explicit. My parents had signed a contract with this man. They had betrothed me to his son. This man had claimed responsibility for the “lesson” my mother had learned, a lesson that had ended with her death.

Yet, in a city where every billionaire seemed to have their entire life documented by tabloids and business journals, Franklin Hart didn’t exist.

“Who are you?” I whispered to the empty room.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

Then I thought about the son I’d never met.

The man I was supposed to marry.

My parents had traded me like property, and when the deal had fallen apart, they had simply handed me over to the Mendez family instead. I couldn’t help wondering if Franklin Hart’s son was somewhere out there, carrying his own anger and resentment.

The thought of another man believing he had a claim over me made my stomach twist.

I felt trapped between two worlds.

There was Donald, my husband, who was slowly becoming a stranger to me.

And then there was Wesley, my brother-in-law, the man who had taken advantage of me on my wedding night.

I shut the laptop with a sharp snap.

I needed to find a way to contact Franklin Hart. I needed to know where my father was and why my mother had to die.

But every time I tried to focus on the mystery, I was pulled back to the more immediate problem sitting inside my own body.

I placed a hand over my stomach.

A shaky breath left my lips.

Then the doorbell rang.

The sudden sound echoed through the hallway, making me jump.

I froze.

My heart began pounding.

Donald wasn’t supposed to be back for another two days.

I quickly smoothed down my dress before walking toward the entrance. My footsteps were quiet against the plush carpet. When I reached the door, I opened it only a crack.

A man stood on the porch.

He wore a charcoal-gray suit that probably cost more than most people’s cars. His expression was serious, almost emotionless. He didn’t smile or offer a greeting. He simply stood there with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Mrs. Mendez?”

His voice was flat and professional.

“Yes,” I replied, squinting against the afternoon sun. “Who are you?”

“I am an associate of Mr. Wesley Mendez.” His expression didn’t change. “He requests your presence immediately.”

Something inside me snapped.

After everything that had happened today, the last thing I needed was another demand from Wesley.

I tightened my grip on the door.

“Tell Wesley that I have nothing to say to him,” I snapped. “He can request whatever he likes, but the answer is no. Now leave my house.”

The man didn’t move.

He didn’t even blink.

Instead, he stepped forward, closing some of the distance between us. His shadow fell across the doorway.

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option, ma’am.”

I scoffed.

“Excuse me? You can’t just come here and demand that I go with you. I’m the wife of Donald Mendez. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call security.”

The man’s expression remained unchanged.

He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, as though he were about to call Wesley himself.

“Mr. Wesley Mendez was very specific in his instructions,” he said. “He mentioned that you might be… reluctant. Therefore, he has instructed me that if you do not come willingly, I am to take you by force.”

I stared at him.

For a moment, I honestly thought I’d heard him wrong.

Then my mouth fell open.

“You’re kidding. You’re actually threatening to kidnap me in broad daylight?”

“It is not a kidnapping when the request comes from a family member of your standing, Mrs. Mendez,” the man replied.

He shifted his weight slightly.

That was when I noticed it.

There was something different about him. The way he stood. The way he moved. He wasn’t just some ordinary secretary sent to deliver a message.

There was a hardness in his shoulders and a precision in every movement that made me think he had training of some kind.

“Please, do not make this unpleasant,” he continued. “Step outside, or I will be forced to carry you.”