He Rejected Me I Became A Contract Wife For His Twin

The man I loved for two years called me pathetic tonight.

The man I married three hours later is his identical twin.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

---

Let me start at the beginning.

The Ashford Foundation Gala was the kind of event that made normal people feel small. Crystal chandeliers. Champagne towers. Women in gowns that cost more than my rent, men in tailored suits who shook hands like they were signing treaties.

And me.

Sienna Vale. Twenty-four years old. Interior designer. The girl who made the Ashford penthouse look like something out of Architectural Digest - and who was currently standing near the kitchen doors holding a glass of champagne I couldn't afford, wondering why I'd come at all.

I knew why.

Damian Ashford was here.

I'd spent two years telling myself I didn't care. Two years of professional emails, of measuring drapes, of pretending my heart didn't skip every time I heard his voice on a conference call. Two years of watching him from across rooms, close enough to touch and nowhere near close enough to matter.

Tonight was supposed to be different.

Tonight, I was going to tell him.

My hands were shaking. I set the champagne down untouched and walked toward the terrace. I'd seen him slip out there ten minutes ago - alone, phone in hand, jaw tight. Damian always looked like that. Like the world was something to be managed, not enjoyed.

The night air hit me like a slap. Cold. Sharp. The city sprawled below us, a thousand lights blinking like they had all the time in the world.

He was standing at the railing, back to me, silhouetted against the skyline.

I almost turned around.

Don't be a coward, I told myself. You've rehearsed this.

"Mr. Ashford?"

He didn't move. "If it's about the dining room drapes, email my assistant."

My chest tightened. "It's not."

He turned then. Slowly. The way he did everything - like the world owed him patience.

And God, he was beautiful.

Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Eyes like winter. He looked at me the way he looked at everyone - with cool, distant assessment, like he was calculating my worth and finding it lacking.

"What is it, then?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Say it, I screamed at myself. Just say it.

"I-" I swallowed hard. "I need to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago."

His expression didn't change.

"I know it's not... appropriate," I continued, my voice shaking. "I know I'm just the designer. I know we don't run in the same circles. But I've worked for your family for two years, and in that time, I've-"

"Sienna."

The way he said my name stopped me cold.

Not gently. Not curiously.

Like he was already tired.

"Let me save you the embarrassment," he said quietly.

I felt the floor drop out from under me.

"You're the help," he said. "Talented help. I'll give you that. The penthouse looks excellent. But that's all it is." His eyes met mine, flat and unimpressed. "You're not one of us. You never will be."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"I don't-" My voice cracked. "I wasn't trying to-"

"You think I haven't noticed?" He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell his cologne - expensive, cold, familiar. "The way you linger after meetings. The way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. It's pathetic."

Pathetic.

I couldn't breathe.

"You're a smart girl," he continued. "So I'll be direct. Whatever fantasy you've been living in - it ends tonight. Tomorrow, I'm announcing my engagement to Victoria Hale. And you and I will never speak of this again."

Victoria Hale.

Blonde. Polished. The daughter of a senator.

Of course.

Of course.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apologize." He straightened his cuff. "Just don't do it again."

And then he walked away.

Just like that.

Like I was nothing.

Like two years of silent devotion, of small kindnesses, of showing up early and staying late just to be near him - like all of it meant nothing.

I stood there alone, hands trembling, eyes burning.

The city kept blinking below me, indifferent.

I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to crawl out of my own skin and vanish into the night.

And then - behind me - a voice.

"Ouch."

I spun around.

Adrian Ashford was leaning against the terrace doorway, a glass of whiskey in one hand, watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

For a second, my heart stopped.

Because he looked exactly like Damian.

Same dark hair. Same sharp jaw. Same impossible eyes.

But everything else was different.

Damian wore his power like armor - stiff, controlled, untouchable. Adrian wore his like a joke. Shoulders loose. Mouth curved. Tie already undone, sleeves rolled up like he'd gotten bored halfway through the event.

He looked like a man who had never once apologized for anything.

"How long were you standing there?" I whispered.

"Long enough."

My face burned. "You heard-"

"Every word." He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward me, slow and unhurried. "My brother's an idiot. But you already knew that."

I wiped my eyes fast, furious at myself for crying. "I should go."

"Wait."

He caught my wrist.

Light. Barely there.

But enough to stop me.

"I have a proposition," he said.

I pulled my arm back. "I'm not in the mood for games."

"Good." His voice dropped. "Because this isn't a game."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

I stared at it.

MARRIAGE CONTRACT was printed across the top in clean black letters.

"You're insane," I breathed.

"Possibly." He tilted his head. "But I'm also prepared."

"You carry that around with you?"

"I've been carrying it for three weeks." His mouth twitched. "I just didn't know who the bride would be until ten minutes ago."

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. "This is a joke."

"It's a business arrangement." He unfolded the paper. "One year. You live in my penthouse. You play the devoted wife. In exchange, I pay off your mother's medical debt - all of it - and give you twenty million dollars when we divorce."

My stomach dropped.

He knows about my mother.

"Don't look so surprised," he said softly. "I know everything about you, Sienna. I've been paying attention."

Paying attention.

"Unlike my brother."

I should have said no.

I should have walked away.

But Damian's voice was still echoing in my head.

You're pathetic.

You're not one of us.

You never will be.

And my mother was three months behind on her hospital bills.

And I was so tired of being nothing to everyone.

I took the pen.

"Where do I sign?"

Adrian's smile widened.

Slow. Dangerous. Satisfied.

"There she is."

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