SUMMER'S POINT OF VIEW.

"Hello, mother."

I said with a wide smile and held the bouquet of roses to her. My mother, dressed in expensive silk, her diamonds almost blinding, glared at me, nothing short of shock in her eyes, as her lips parted, and next thing I knew, the shock disappeared, replaced by a snarl across her lips. I won't lie; that stung. The last time my mother and I shared eye contact, talk less of such proximity without glass between us, was five years ago when I was sentenced.

"Come on, Mom. Not even a hug for your second daughter." I forced a smile and tried to act as nonchalant as possible, even though it felt like I'd been gutted. I knew they didn't like me, but this cold reaction was nothing any child could live with.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She whispered, her eyes darting behind her now and then as though afraid someone would see me. "How the hell are you even out?"

The smile turned to a frown real quick, my hope dashed as I said, "Mom... you didn't know I got released? I thought you would have been counting down the days to your daughter finally coming home."

Because a tiny, broken part of me still thought she might care. That maybe, after five years, she might open her arms to her daughter.

She didn't.

"Counting down?" She scoffed, and next thing I knew, she pulled me into the house with a harsh grip. "Get the hell in here before someone sees you, you bitch." I gasped at the shot of pain that hit my knee as I stumbled against the wooden table.

"Ouch."

"Oh, please. "You've endured prison, haven't you? Don't act fragile now." She snapped. "Why are you out so soon? I thought they usually give those inmates more time than their court sentence."

Even as my heart tightened with pain, I stared at her and tried to think of any good memory of my childhood with my mother, the woman who'd stood by my sister after she joined the bullies at school who called my freckles 'dirt'. I remember she played it off as 'A joke between kids.'

She'd told me to stop being dramatic, or else she would give me something real to cry about. I did cry myself to sleep that night, and every night after that, because my sister, emboldened by my mother's support, continued with the bullies, even resorting to stealing my lunch so I was forced to stay hungry all day.

And when I told my mother that, she said, 'Well, don't you think she's helping. You need to lose weight, Sunner.'

I was ten at the time.

Again, I gave her a smile that didn't reach my eyes; my heart calling out to her to please see my despair and finally act like my mother; "I didn't do anything to get me in more trouble. So the judge decided I didn't need the sanction."

She hissed at that, as though I'd burned her by simply coming out of prison alive.

"Um....I thought you would be excited to see me again. I even thought you would have been marking dates and all that." I chuckled nervously.

Her laugh was sharp enough to cut into my heart. "Counting down? Marking dates?" she repeated, her tone one of absurdity as she glared at me. "Why on earth would I do that, Summer? You brought shame to this family. You expect me to welcome you home with open arms?"

I didn't kill anyone." My voice trembled despite my trying to hold the urge to cry. She always hated it whenever I did that...and I never knew why. "You know I didn't."

She crossed her arms and avoided eye contact with me as she said. "The evidence said otherwise."

"The evidence said Sophia was there too," I said, my tone turning hard. "She never even visited me, and neither did you."

"Because she had a future worth protecting! And so did I. Did you really expect us to visit you after you ruined and shamed us all? I would never be caught in such a place meant for degenerates and lowlifes," my mother snapped, her perfect composure fracturing for the first time, her face turning a shade of red as she hissed at me. "Unlike you. You've always been trouble. Always the wrong kind of girl. Drinking, fighting, dressing like a street child!"

I knew she would snap the moment I mentioned her golden daughter. Even as a child, she treated me like I'd blasphemed whenever I spoke out against her precious daughter.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "So prison was my punishment for being a disappointment? Even though I didn't do it, I did not kill that man, Mom."

"Don't call me that." She jerked as if I'd burned her.

"Sorry, mother."

She was about to speak when I heard a soft laugh coming from upstairs.

I looked up instantly, recognising that voice from anywhere.

Sophia.

My twin, and my mirror image.

She descended from the stairs, and I took in her appearance. We couldn't have looked any different. I was dressed in the same worn clothes I was arrested in, while she had on an expensive pink dress, her gold jewellery shining against her skin as she glared at me.

"I'll call you later." She whispered to whoever was on the phone and stopped in front of me.

She looked radiant - her hair curled in loose waves, as her skin shone unlike my dull one, marred with scrapes and cuts from the rough life prison offered. She looked like the angel they'd always said she was, the daughter my mother idolised.

"Summer?" she said, her tone carefully measured, as she fixed me with a condescending glare. Even she knew she was better than me. "You're... out."

"Surprise." My lips twitched, but it wasn't a smile.

Her expression flickered - first shock, then discomfort, then something that looked dangerously close to fear. But as soon as I saw it, it disappeared, masked by another fake condescending smile. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she said;

"You shouldn't have come here," she said softly, glancing toward our mother, and they shared a secret look. "There's a... celebration tonight. You'll just make things complicated."

My stomach turned into knots. "A celebration?"

Mother stepped between us, her perfume suffocatingly sweet, like the smile she gave me. "Your sister's engagement party," she said. "To Kirill Volkov." At the mention of his name, she beamed with pride and joy, and I swear it felt like her nose turned up instantly.

The name hit me like a slap.

Kirill Volkov.

All I knew about him was from the papers some prisoners snuck in. he was a billionaire, the owner of the largest real estate company in all of Europe, as well as the king of investment funds....basically, he was a god on earth as the papers reported. But I didn't know what he looked like....no one did, actually.

I blinked slowly, trying to process it. "You're marrying him?"

"Why shouldn't I?" She scoffed with a smirk. "He's smart, rich, and powerful. Besides, who else would he marry besides me? I'm perfect for him."

My mother reached for Sophia's hand and smiled proudly - beaming the way she'd never once smiled at me. "She's finally bringing honour back to this family," she said, her eyes glittering with pride. "Unlike you, Summer."

Something inside me cracked in that moment,

It was the same thing I felt while I heard the judge read my sentence to me five years ago. But this time, it was much stronger and visceral.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was quiet - the kind of breaking that happens in the dark, in silence, where no one can hear it.

I stared at them - my mother, my sister - and realised there was no space left in this house for me.

No forgiveness.

No affection.

No home.

And yet, as my mother fussed over Sophia's perfect curls, as Sophia slid her diamond ring into the light just so, I felt something else bloom inside me.

Cold.

Sharp.

Unstoppable.

If love couldn't bring me back into this family...

Revenge would.

I straightened, forcing a soft smile. "Congratulations," I said quietly.

Sophia blinked. "You mean it?"

I met her eyes, and the identical green specs stared back at me. But I could see the deception in them, as well as the sheer insecurity.. "Of course I do. After all, you've taken everything else that belonged to me."

Her breath hitched, just slightly, but it was enough to let me know I'd hit something.

Mother frowned and snapped at me again. "Watch your tone, Summer."

But I was already walking toward the door. My heartbeat was steady now, my hands no longer shook, because I'd come to terms with the hate I'd received.

"You're right," I said, pausing at the threshold. "This family does deserve a celebration."

They didn't notice the smile that ghosted across my lips - the one I'd learned to perfect behind steel bars.

Because in a few days, when Sophia walked down that aisle in her perfect white gown...

It wouldn't be her saying "I do."

It would be me.

SUMMER'S POINT OF VIEW.

I watched from my binoculars while I leaned against the car seat. My sister and her so-called fiancé were having dinner in the palace-like restaurant...or rather, they were supposed to be having dinner. All I could see was the stone-faced billionaire disregard her as though she didn't exist while she babbled away some nonsense.

Sophia has never been a smart girl, nor could she hold intellectually stimulating conversations. If the small talk was outside of sex and partying, she would remain mute. I ran my hands through my now black hair; I'd dyed it this morning.

Because if this plan worked, I had to look exactly like my sister.

I smiled at the image of her excusing herself to probably use the bathroom. Kirill didn't even glance at her as she said that, nor did he when she stood. His gaze was transfixed on the newspaper he held instead. I tightened the coat I borrowed from a thrift store in a bid to hide my nervousness. The huge brown thing looked exactly like the luxurious one she wore.

Except this one was a fake that barely cost twenty dollars.

I headed to the receptionist's desk with a smile that mirrored Sophia's and said in the same sugary sweet way she did, "Hello, I'm here for dinner with Kirill Volkov."

"Um....I thought you already walked in." She said, her eyes scanning my face with shock and confusion. I felt a drop of sweat trickle down my spine, but I covered it with the same smile and said instead, "Yes....but the thing is, I had to get something from my car. And silly me forgot to come back here earlier." I giggled and leaned in as if I was about to tell her a secret. I needed to leave this place and get to the table as soon as possible...

"You know how handsome Kirill is....I'm super nervous." I giggled again for added effect, and it worked like a charm. Her tense shoulders eased instantly, and she smiled.

"Alright then, miss. You may return to your dinner." I didn't waste a moment longer. My eyes were fixated on him with each step I took, up until I stopped in front of the chair my sister once occupied.

I cleared my throat quietly, mimicking the way she would speak: "You're not going to offer to pull back a lady's chair?" The second I spoke, he lifted his head for the first time since I'd been watching them. His grey irises felt electric against my skin, as they narrowed suspiciously at me. All of a sudden, the man smirked.

Like not smiled......smirked. A full panty-dropping one.

My throat bobbed as I swallowed, and I tried to ignore the way it suddenly felt as though I was naked in front of him. His eyes ran up and down my body before he dropped the papers he held, leaned back in his seat, and ran his tongue over his lower lip while rubbing his jaw slowly with his index finger.

All of a sudden, he chucked, the sound low, dangerous....and so fucking hot. I felt my heart drop to my pussy instantly.

Not my stomach...or even my fucking feet. My pussy.

Fuck, this might be harder than I thought if he keeps giving me that fuck me eyes.

Before I could get another word out, he rose to his feet slowly and swept off his jacket from his gorgeously toned body. His moves were controlled and almost too perfect, as though he had an issue with orderliness.

He invaded my personal space in seconds, forcing me to bask in the strong scent of his cologne. The musk hit me on my tongue, almost as though I could taste it. But I tried to appear unfazed. He still hasn't lost the smirk as he said.

"You may have your seat, Miss Sophia." He drawled, and disappointment sank into me at the mention of her name. For some weird reason, I wanted him to call my real name....even though it was completely against my plan.

His hand glided onto my back in a slow, seductive manner, followed by nothing as he jerked it off and drew the seat back. Without losing eye contact, I slowly slid onto the seat and watched that twinge of intrigue in his eyes as he went back to his seat.

"So...what were you saying?" I asked, and took a sip of the red wine. I tried not to grimace at the horrible taste in my mouth as I placed the glass back where I found it. Sophia has the worst wine-picking choices, damnit.

"You also don't like it?" he asked, his eyes still regarding me with the same sense of intrigue and curiosity I'd seen earlier.

I didn't know when I nodded and said, "No, it's horrible." My eyes widened at that slip-up....if I were really Sophia, I would swear that this was perfect....

Should I take it back?

Or run along with it?

"Perfect." He smirked. "We have the same opinion. Frankly, I think it shouldn't even be on any shelves."

"So do I."

We laughed together for a moment, but all of a sudden, silence stretched out between us. I licked my lips to hide how nervous I truly was, as my hands shook against my thighs.

I opened my mouth to speak, he beat me to it: "So when will you stop pretending to be Sophia when you clearly are not?"

My eyes widened, and a squeaky sound came out of me. I felt a sense of shame wash over me at how quickly he caught me. "I have no idea what you're referring to," I said instead, and shrugged my shoulders to add to the nonchalant effect.

"Let's stop playing games." He responded with a chuckle and lifted his hand to signal a waiter over. "Take this monstrosity away." He ordered with a flick of his finger. My cheeks reddened as I moved to get up myself before I would add more embarrassment to this already humiliating night.

But to my utter surprise, the waiter picked up the wine glasses, the food, and walked away as soon as the table was cleared.

"Wait....you didn't mean me?" I asked, my eyes running over his face to see if I could decipher anything about him, but the man was sealed like a vault. I could barely read him.

"No." That was all he said. But I guess he couldn't because the waiter, accompanied by some others, brought a different bottle of wine, and more food.

"So....what are you saying?"

"Why are you here?" he asked as he poured me a glass. "And don't lie to me. Nobody dresses like a carbon copy of someone else without having a motive. And something tells me....you have plenty."

"Kirill Volkov," I said, calling his full name to his face; something no one was allowed to do according to the papers. "Marry me instead."

He raised his head as soon as I said the word 'marry'.

"What?" he said with a chuckle.

"You heard right, Kirill."

He was about to speak when my sister's voice interrupted us. "What the hell?" She screeched, which almost forced me to break eye contact with him, but the electricity in his gaze was practically hypnosis, because even if I wanted to, I couldn't pull away.

"What the hell are you doing here, Summer?" She yelled again, her stomping sounds directly within earshot as she stopped right beside me.

"So...what do you say?" I asked, completely ignoring her as I smiled at him.

"What are you doing speaking to my fiancé? Kirill, get her out of here now!" She whined, but Kirill barely paid her any mind.

Instead, he smiled at me in the same way he did earlier. His eyes still lit up with the intrigue from earlier, but at the same time, I could see heat in his gaze.

Sophia's hand connected with mine as she tried to lift me from the seat. "You want to taint Kirill with your bad luck, don't you? You already disgraced the family, you bitch!" She screeched again, but neither Kirill nor I regarded her. It was as if she faded into the background.

"Miss Rodriguez....I think it's best if you leave." He said, and I was left stunned. I could practically feel Sophia's victory glare at his rejection. But instead of letting it get to me, I dusted the invisible dust from my cheap knock-off coat, rose to my feet with my head high, and walked away with a sway of my hips.

Because I knew he was watching me.

Sophia might think she's won...but she has no idea what's coming.

I would take everything from her.

Her name.

Her life.

Her perfect, glittering future.

And when she walked down that aisle, thinking she'd won -

It would be my hand Kirill Volkov took.

I smiled, the city lights flickering gold in my eyes as I clutched onto the steering wheel of the car I borrowed.

"Laugh while you can, Sophia," I whispered to the wind. "Because the next time you see me... you'll be the one on your knees."

KIRILL'S POINT OF VIEW.

The sound of the elite band playing some bullshit medieval music felt grating to my ears as I stood at the altar awaiting the bride. My mind couldn't help but revert to the woman I'd met two weeks ago at the dinner I was supposed to have with Sophia.

More like a fucking torture session.

Sophia was so self-absorbed; all she talked about was her, her jewellery, the fact that she came from wealth....so fucking exhausting.

But I tried to endure the boring dinner; my gaze set on the goal before me with each word she spoke as a reminder.

Revenge.

The family didn't know it yet. But the homeless man they killed in that hit-and-run was my brother. He might have been a mentally challenged person who liked to wander off from the mansion to that spot, but he was still my brother.

And they killed him.

Or rather, she killed him.

Sophia Rodriguez.

Which was why I allowed her to think I didn't know she'd tied me to the gym ever since we'd brushed shoulders at a gala. I remember how I tried so hard not to roll my eyes, and almost thanked the heavens aloud when she walked to the bathroom.

Only to have the most gorgeous voice bless my ears.

The second I made eye contact with the woman who looked like a carbon copy of my fiancée, I knew I wasn't staring at Sophia. The shade of their green irises was completely different. While one looked calm, and twisted in a mean way. The other appeared wild, but at the same time seemed calm.

Another thing was her body.

God, her body!

I knew she hid a weapon under the fake coat she had on, and I swear I wanted to see it. But even as she offered to marry her instead, I had a different plan forming in mind.

The chase was a thrill I never failed to indulge in, and I could see the rage, passion, and a beautiful desire for revenge in her green eyes. So I told her the one word that would leave her wanting more.

'No.'

One complete sentence that would change the trajectory of everything.

I watched as the church doors pulled open to reveal my bride. Her veil dragged along as she walked as gracefully and elegantly as any happy bride would. My eyes drew in the way her hands shook slightly against the bouquet of red roses she held.

I heard the whispers of the women, feeling the envy practically rolling off of them.

But I knew something they all didn't.

That wasn't Sophia Rodriguez.

Rather, the woman walking to me, dressed in her sister's wedding dress, holding her bouquet, was her twin sister, Summer.

A vicious smirk pulled at my lips at the thought of the entertaining game playing out before me. As soon as she stopped before me, I caught a whiff of that same cologne Sophia had on. The scent felt very artificial and almost too much.

It felt like she had something to prove, but I could feel in my gut that Summer was different.

"My daughter, Mr Volkov." Her mother whispered, placing her hand in mine softly with a wide smile on her face. "Please, take care of her."

"Your daughter is in perfect hands, Mrs Rodriguez," I replied, without breaking eye contact with Summer.

I didn't even notice her mother walking away; all I could focus on was her.

Her shoulders trembled slightly before she relaxed quickly. As if she didn't want anyone suspecting anything, her breath caught just slightly every few steps before she stood in front of me. I could tell she wasn't performing - she was trying to survive.

And God help me, I found it fascinating.

Her hands clutched the bouquet too tightly. The petals quivered as if they shared her nerves. Beneath the lace and pearls, she looked like a woman trying to hold the world together with trembling fingers.

Still, she stood before me.

And I let her.

Because I wanted to see how far she'd go.

The priest began his sanctimonious words, but my eyes never left her. She avoided my gaze, pretending to focus on the vows. Her lashes fluttered each time I said her name. Sophia. The name didn't belong to her, but I liked the way she flinched when I said it.

For some reason, it excited me.

When the time came to exchange rings, her hand shook so much I had to steady it as softly as possible. My fingers brushed against her soft, warm, trembling one, causing her to gasp quietly.

I smiled at that and leaned in slightly so I could speak. "Breathe," I whispered low enough for only her to hear.

Her throat bobbed as she obeyed with a nod.

And in that moment, for the first time in years, I felt something in my cold, dead heart.

It wasn't love, nor was it affection. But something dark and curious was curling in my chest - a heat that had nothing to do with the candles flickering behind the altar, or the sheer desire to know what went on in her mind.

But I couldn't put my finger on it.

When the priest asked the one question everyone was waiting for, "Do you, Kirill Volkov, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

I looked at her with the same smirk from the dinner on my lips.

At the liar.

The imposter.

The thief wearing another woman's smile.

"I do," I said.

Her head jerked slightly, surprise flashing through her features before she caught herself. She didn't know that I knew. She thought she'd fooled me.

When the priest turned to her, her lips parted, voice breaking just slightly as she said as she rushed out, as if she wanted to get it over with, "I do."

"By the power vested in me," the priest announced, "I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride." He said, and I didn't waste a moment. I pulled the veil off her face softly, grabbed her by the waist, so she leaned against me. She stumbled against me with a gasp, her eyes slightly wide as she glared at me.

"It's time for our kiss, wife," I whispered, and crashed my lips to hers without wasting one more second. Her whimper felt like electricity in my veins as I swallowed it, my lips entangled against hers in front of the high society of London, and before the altar.

As soon as my lips connected with mine, I knew I'd fucked myself over. She tasted perfect....sweet, and I didn't do anything sweet. But I knew one thing: if she tasted as sweet as this from just a kiss, I'd want more.

And I think I'd do anything to get more.

She gripped onto my shirt tightly, tapping softly on me, so I released her. My chest heaved with pants as one word reverberated throughout my being.

Mine,

But before I could say it, I heard a strangled screech, followed by the sound of the door practically flying off its hinges as it slammed against the wall.

Sophia walked into the cathedral, mascara stains sticking to her cheeks from obviously crying, her hair all over the place as she glared at her sister, my wife.

"What the hell is going on?" her mother asked as soon as she saw the state her other daughter was in. "How are you.....wait....who are you?" She stumbled over her words.

"Sophia, mother! I'm Sophia!" She screeched again, almost triggering my hatred for noise as I smirked discreetly at the show playing before me.

"But then....who is....No." Her mother whispered as her recognition flashed in her eyes. "Summer?!" She screeched at the same time as her daughter.

I fought the urge to cover my ears, as my heart rate spiked at the influx of noise.

"I told you I would get revenge." Summer said, causing my head to snap to her instantly. She wasn't going to hide or cry?.

Hmm....interesting.

"STOP THIS! THAT'S MY WEDDING!" She screeched again, but Summer simply smirked, her eyes flashing with pure elation and victory.

"Sorry, Sophia. By the power vested in him, we're now husband and wife."

That's my fiancé! That's my dress! She's not me!"

The crowd erupted instantly, as chaos bloomed like wildfire inside the cathedral. The sound of the cameras flashed, followed by that of the band still playing. But this time, it was more comedic....at least to me. Their voices collided, and the priest nearly dropped his Bible in shock.

I stepped forward, my arm snaking around Summer's waist as I drew her closer - close enough to smell the faint trace of her shampoo beneath the veil.

"She's lying," I said coolly, while ensuring I was loud enough for the crowd to hear. "This woman-" I squeezed her waist slightly, feeling the tension rolling off her in waves, "-is my wife."

The cathedral fell silent, and all of a sudden, it was rippled with a sharp gasp from all the guests.

Sophia's face went white, along with her mother's. "W–what?"

I smiled faintly. "You heard me."

"But Kirill-she's a fraud! She's-"

"I said," I interrupted softly, dangerously, "she's my wife."

The reporters went wild. The cameras flashed like lightning.

But all I saw was her - the imposter trembling beside me. She looked up at me, eyes wide, and for the first time, I saw something raw there. Fear. Confusion. A spark of something else - maybe gratitude.

I leaned closer, my voice a whisper only she could hear.

"Congratulations, Mrs Volkov," I murmured. "You wanted to play pretend? Let's make it real."

And as the chaos swelled around us, I kissed her.

Not gently. Not tenderly. But with deliberate, calculated pressure - sealing a lie so perfect even God might hesitate to judge it.

Because in that kiss, I tasted her shudder.

And in mine, I gave her a promise.

This was no marriage.

The crowd could pray all they wanted, but no divine or artificial power aside from mine was invited to this union.

This was war.