My Twin Sister Offered Me As A Decoy To Her Mob Boss Husband — So I Replaced Her
Part 2
I closed my eyes, a single tear slipping free to trace the curve of my cheek.
“I told you,” I choked out, my voice a pathetic, broken rasp against the heavy silence of the dining room.
“I told you in the alley, I told you in the car.”
“Open your eyes,” his command carried the soft, undeniable weight of an anvil.
I obeyed, my lashes wet as I met his gaze.
Greg slowly straightened up, his towering frame casting a distorted shadow across the fine china and crystal.
He dragged a hand down his face, the sound of his palm scraping his jaw loud in the dead quiet.
For the first time since he threw me into that armored sedan, his impenetrable mask slipped.
He looked profoundly, dangerously confused.
“Megan,” he tasted my real name as if it were a strange, bitter vintage.
“We haven’t spoken in six years,” I blurted out, desperate to keep him from acting on his violent calculations.
“She left when our mother got sick, and I stayed to pay the medical bills.”
I held my shaking hands up to the harsh light.
“These are the hands of a woman who types seventy words a minute, not someone who stabs people.”
Greg stared at my trembling fingers before taking a slow step backward.
He braced his hands on his hips and looked toward the ceiling, exhaling a sharp breath.
“Three million dollars,” he murmured to the empty air, a dark chuckle vibrating in his chest.
“She didn’t just steal the money, she left a sloppy, obvious breadcrumb trail right to that diner.”
He looked back down at me, his expression hardening into something jagged and cold.
“She knew my men would grab the first woman who looked exactly like my wife.”
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, turning my stomach to lead.
Brenda hadn’t just vanished.
My own twin sister had offered me up as a fleshy speed bump to slow down a monster.
She had bought herself a four-month head start to disappear with a small fortune.
A ragged, terrible sound tore out of my throat, half sob and half laugh.
I bent forward, pressing my forehead against the cool mahogany table as the room spun.
“Breathe,” Greg ordered sharply, hauling me upright by my shoulders.
He pushed my head down between my knees, the scent of his vetiver cologne anchoring me to reality.
When the shaking finally subsided, I sat up to find him watching me with clinical detachment.
“What now?” I asked, my voice entirely hollow as I stripped away my pathetic attempt at Brenda’s sneer.
“Do you kill me because I know your face?”
He leaned against the back of his chair and crossed his arms.
“Killing you yields zero return on investment, and it doesn’t get my money back.”
“Then let me go,” I pleaded.
“I can’t do that either,” he replied, his eyes narrowing.
“You’re a liability, but you’re also the perfect bait.”
He explained that Brenda’s fatal flaw was her ego, and she would eventually check in to see if her trap worked.
“And when she looks, she’s going to see you standing right by my side.”
He walked out of the room, leaving me completely alone in the massive, echoing space.
Will he execute me for my sister’s crimes, or am I about to become a permanent decoy in a mafia war?
