Chapter 14

Eighteen Years Ago, Anderson Estate

I stride up the stairs of the estate, my fingers lingering on the lion head carved into the banister. It’s a symbol of loyalty and strength—what our family stands for.

It’s fucking dreary outside—another New York storm drowning us in torrents of water. The antique Tiffany floor lamps are turned on but do little to brighten the gloomy atmosphere as I take the stairs two steps at a time.

But nothing can dampen my spirits today.

I smile, thinking of Sydney…my wife, the beautiful girl I somehow convinced to elope with me after we walked across the stage for high school graduation at Broadbent Academy.

How did I get so lucky?

I pass by an oil painting of my great-great-great-grandfather, Silas, on the second-floor landing—he’s the most auspicious duke in our family—the one who left his duties behind in England and moved to the States for business opportunities.

He stands tall and regal, befitting someone of his station, his wife by his side and sons at his feet, the heirloom black agate ring on his index finger—the same one on mine.

“I got married to a girl I love,” I murmur to him, needing to tell someone other than Ryland. “There is no curse. They are idiotic superstitions, old wives’ tales, and I’m going to prove it to Dad. ”

Silas’s piercing glare never wavers and I feel a shiver down my back—a distinct disapproval radiating from his gaze.

Ridiculous. It’s only a painting.

Shaking myself, I continue down the hallway to my room. I just need to change out of my casual clothes, speckled with paint from my hours at the studio, then I’ll meet Sydney for dinner.

Heated voices around the corner alert me to the presence of someone else.

Two people, to be exact.

I slow my steps, my footfalls quiet on the Persian runner on the floor and walk toward the shadows of two people clearly in an emotional discussion.

Thunder rumbles outside and the wind hammers against the windows, letting in a howl akin to someone in pain, but I barely notice. Instead, unease sifts through my veins, an icy chill wafting my back because of the conversation occurring.

“Ryland, please. You don’t understand. I…I love him too. But we married too young. I don’t think I realized, but I learn it’s possible to love two people at the same time. I can’t get you out of my mind, Ryland.”

My breath wrenches out of my lungs. I stagger back a few steps, my hand braced on the fleur-de-lis wallpaper. It’s only been two months, Sydney. Don’t blame this on our age. You knew what you agreed to.

I thought she was happy.

Sydney is the only woman I’ve ever loved romantically. The woman who has brought back joy in the house.

I hear a sharp inhale, the taller masculine shadow backing away. Ryland. My twin is just around the corner with my wife, who apparently has loved him all along.

And from the looks of it, she loves him more than she loves me.

Blood rushes in my ears as their voices pick up in volume. Sydney pours her heart out to Ryland, telling him how long she has loved him, how she thought when they met at my first and only art exhibit, that Ryland was me, and how she lost her breath over him .

My lungs rattle, each sentence from her mouth a javelin to my heart. I hunch over and try to dispel the blackness dotting my vision.

She stood by me every single time I butchered a public presentation. She didn’t jeer at me like my classmates, who were eager to knock down a privileged Anderson. She’d stay with me at the estate even though I knew she’d rather go out and party with her friends.

I let out a mirthless chuckle, the storm drowning my sounds of pain. Of course, she wants Ryland, the perfect twin…the perfect man .

The signs were there, weren’t they? Her smiles always seemed brighter in his presence. She’d look disappointed whenever he wasn’t around during game night. Then she’d insist on keeping the lights off when we had sex because she couldn’t bear to see my scars.

The same scars on my torso throb and pinch, reminding me of my flaws—both physical and mental. Steeling myself, I straighten up, lean back against the wall, and listen…because I have to know what Ryland says.

Was I the interloper all along?

“You said your vows, Sydney. For better or worse.” Anger seeps through my twin’s voice.

“I regret them! Ryland, don’t you see? I can’t go on living like this. You feel something for me. I can see it in your eyes. This…this is right. The right thing to do. Stem the bleeding now before it hemorrhages. We can’t help what the heart wants!”

A fresh wave of agony slices through me, my heart pulverized by her words, and a heavy silence fills the air…even the howling winds and pouring rain are giving us a reprieve.

Holding my breath, an oppressive blanket of dread smothers me. I peer around the corner, and the remnants of my heart are incinerated by what I see.

Sydney…my Sydney, pressing Ryland against the wall, her lips on top of his .

I choke back a gasp and clutch my dirty shirt, not caring I’m smearing the paint from my fingers on the soft fabric.

A second later, Ryland hollers, “Excuses. All of it. You disgust me!”

But it’s too late.

I saw his eyes fluttering shut when she was in his arms and how his fingers tightly clutched her slender waist, touching what I thought was mine.

He likes her. He may not act on it, but he likes her.

I hurry back down the stairs, past a bewildered Morris, and step onto the pavement, letting the storm wash over me, the water pelting my skin like bullets to the chest, a chest flayed wide open.

Present Day, The Gentlemen’s Club Inside The Orchid

But it was too late for Sydney then…I’d already fallen in love with her. Even if she loved Ryland more, she also loved me. We were married, and we confessed our love to each other.

That was enough for the curse.

“I just want you to be happy, like what you’ve wanted for me.” Ryland clasps his hand on top of mine, drawing my attention back to the room. His eyes are somber. I wonder if he’s remembering the same moment…the moment that changed everything.

The moment I kept from him, even to this day.

Sydney died a week later.

My love is poisonous. It’s a death sentence. I killed Sydney by loving her. I’m a murderer.

I look at my twin, my best friend, and reply, “I’m happy because you all are happy.”

I’ve learned my lesson.

After all, I’m flawed and cursed. I don’t deserve to be loved.