My twin sister and I spent five years acting as Julian’s perfect little kept secrets. It was a simple arrangement with a clear division of labor: she handled the bedroom, I handled the bank account. Right after graduation, we were at a high-end club. My sister, eyeing a male model with a flawless eight-pack, suddenly turned to me. "Hey, on the wedding day... are you going, or am I?" I lazily picked up a die from the table, tossing it in my palm. "Low stakes. Loser has to wear the white dress." Before the die could settle, a chillingly familiar voice echoed from behind us. "Hey man, how does my little birdie taste?" "Mediocre, at best." Looking up, we saw two identical faces staring back at us. My sister and I froze, speaking in perfect, horrified unison: "Which one of you is the actual Sugar Daddy???" 01 We hovered behind a pillar, whispering furiously while staring back at the VIP booth. "The one on the right?" I hissed. "No, the left?" my sister whispered back. I turned on her. "Didn't you sleep with him last night? How can you not tell?" "I was busy looking at the ceiling, not his face," she shot back, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Besides, they are identical!" This was a major logistical problem. Before we could solve it, we watched "Julian A" curl his lip into a smug smirk. "So, bro," he said, his tone mocking. "You taking the fall at the wedding, or am I?" His identical twin, "Julian B," barely flickered an eyelash. He slowly reached for a die on the table. "Low roll wins. Loser gets hitched." "You're on," Julian A replied, popping the top off the dice cup and beginning to shake it. The sycophants in the booth started egging them on. "Watch it, J-Two," one laughed. "Roll a one and you're doomed to be a groom." "Why don't you both just show up? Run a real-life Parent Trap on the girl." "Man, can you imagine the bride's face if she found out she’s been getting passed between two brothers for the last two years?" A woman swathed in designer gear, sitting in Julian A’s lap, giggled inanely. "Oh my god, she is so lucky. Two gorgeous billionaires fighting over who gets to marry her? I’m totally jealous." That bitch. Julian A took a drag of his drink, used his thumb to tilt her chin up, and blew the smoke into her face with a harsh laugh. "Why? You want both of us to service you instead?" The woman practically melted into his chest, simpering. "Stop it. You know I only like you." My sister and I made eye contact. Pure disgust. But behind the disgust in her eyes, I saw a flash of utter devastation. 02 "You lose, bro." The dice cup was lifted. Julian A had rolled a perfect six. He didn't seem upset. He glanced at the woman in his lap and grinned. "This little thing wants to see the Northern Lights. I’m going to take her on a trip. "The wedding is in five days. You’ll have to keep playing the part. I’ll be back before we have to sign the license." His twin merely nodded, cold and expressionless. A few minutes later, the rest of the group started making noise about going to the track to race cars. Julian A immediately chimed in. "Losers owe me a massive wedding gift. The bride loves counting cash." No one found the statement odd. They all laughed it off. "Don't worry, man. We've got you covered." "Alright, let's roll. You coming, C?" Julian A asked his brother suddenly. As they rose to leave, the twin sat there for a beat, staring into space. Hearing his brother call him, he snapped back to reality and shook his head. "Nah. I’ll pass. Have to go back and keep up the act." We all knew what "the act" meant. Only after they had both left did my sister and I poke our heads out. We both exhaled a breath we didn't know we were holding. We looked at the dice cup on the table. Originally, we were agonizing over which one of us had to endure the wedding. Looking at it now, it seemed entirely unnecessary. By putting the pieces together, we quickly figured out who was who. The loud, obnoxious party animal was the younger brother. The cold, quiet, seemingly timid one was the older brother. "Given the current economic climate," I said gloomily after a long silence, "I think this freelance gig just got terminated." I thought about it for a beat, then made a proposal. "Runaway bride?" My sister nodded firmly. "If you run, I run." 03 That night, we split up. She went to the clinic for a full medical checkup, and I went back to the penthouse to pack up the plunder. On the way back, I contacted a realtor in a quiet, coastal town three states away and secured a rental on a secluded house. I booked train tickets for five days out. The escape and the wedding would happen on the same day. When I got back to the penthouse, I ran right into the older brother. He had just stepped out of the shower. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his wet hair. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with a small jewelers box. Seeing me, he beckoned me over. I walked over to him. Without warning, he reached out, pulled me into a tight embrace, and rested his head against my chest. A cold metallic band slipped onto the ring finger of my left hand. He took my right hand, gently kissed the ring finger on that hand too, and smiled. "Baby, only five more days until we’re married. "On that day, I’m going to place the most beautiful pink diamond right here. Okay?" I suppressed the nausea rising in my gut and nodded vaguely, staying silent. He reached up to pull me down to him. Suddenly, his phone, sitting on the nightstand, buzzed. When he saw the name on the screen, his expression changed instantly. He answered, offering a crisp "Okay" to whoever was on the other end. I asked, "Are you going out?" He stood up, kissed my forehead, his voice tender. "Just some trouble at the office. I need to go handle it. Be a good girl and go to sleep. Don't wait up." Then he went back into the bathroom to dry his hair. His phone buzzed twice more on the nightstand. I picked it up and entered the passcode. To keep up the charade, both brothers used my birthday as their phone passcode. They both knew I never checked their phones. This was the first time. And it would be the last. He had two new text messages from a contact named "Valerie." "Charming, heard you’re marrying that girl. I can’t possibly miss a show like that." "I’m back. Come pick me up. Miss you." Valerie. I repeated the name to myself. Suddenly, a memory surfaced. Valerie. The heiress, the younger brother’s childhood sweetheart. He used to worship the ground she walked on, did whatever she wanted. She moved to Europe right after graduation. Well. Isn't that interesting. Fully dressed, the older brother came out of the bathroom. Seeing me already lying in bed, he pressed his body down against mine. "Bye, baby." I forced the muscles in my face into a smile. "Bye." "Aren't you forgetting something?" He stared at my lips, smirking. I leaned up and gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek. He smiled, satisfied, kissed me again and again—as if he couldn't bear to leave—before finally hauling himself up. "Go to sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done." The roar of his sports car echoed from the garage below. I wiped my cheek hard, as if I had touched something filthy. Then I rolled out of bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I hadn't packed the designer bags and jewelry in the walk-in closet yet. This was a limited-time opportunity; I couldn't afford to waste it. I have to hand it to them; both brothers were incredibly generous. The luxury bags were all limited editions; the necklaces and rings were either emeralds or massive diamonds. Looking at a raw, massive green diamond ring, I nearly drooled. Pack it. Pack it all. 04 While packing, I stumbled across a wedding certificate. I opened it. The handwriting inside was shaky and uneven. I laid the certificate on the floor and, face devoid of emotion, used a thick black marker to completely cross out my name. I needed to remind myself. Emotions are transactional. Once a fracture appears, no matter how much you try to repair it, it can never go back to what it was. After I packed everything, I put the defaced certificate back into his safe. That safe contained everything the older brother held most precious. Suddenly, another small box caught my eye. Driven by a morbid curiosity, I pulled it out. Inside were letters. No return addresses. Only four words on the envelopes: For Valerie's eyes only. "Val, how is New York? Are you okay?" "I heard you cried over your thesis. My Val, don't cry. Your beautiful eyes should only shed tears of happiness." "I found that pink diamond you wanted." "You said you wanted a wedding dress made of stars. I've already designed it." "When you wear that dress, I hope I’m the first one to take your hand." "Val, I miss you so much. I lied. I am trying to force you to come back." Reading these, I realized that wedding certificate was a sickening joke. Just as I was about to put the letters back. My sister texted me three screenshots. Photos of a girl holding roses. In front of her, a man was down on one knee, holding a ring box. I stared at that kneeling silhouette for a long time. When the older brother left tonight. He was wearing that exact suit. The other two photos were of diamond rings, each one breath-takingly beautiful. The caption on Valerie’s post read: "Girls, do you like pink diamonds or white diamonds? I think white diamonds are ugly." "No accidents, just destiny. My childhood best friend proposed with a pink diamond. Congratulations to me!" Looking at the band on my ring finger, I laughed until tears came to my eyes. I ripped it off and tossed it on top of the wedding certificate in the safe. I pulled up that Instagram post, stared at it for a moment, and manually liked it. I commented: [Congratulations!] A text from the older brother popped up immediately: [Baby, there’s too much work. I won’t be back tonight. Love you.] The man who had just proposed to another woman was currently texting me "Baby" and "Love you," acting like nothing had happened. I suddenly wanted to text back. Do you get tired of playing this role of the devoted fiancé? In the end, I resisted. I deleted the words and sent back a simple: [Okay.] 05 Three days before the escape. My sister and I were at a pawn shop, haggling with the broker over designer goods. Outside, fireworks illuminated the downtown skyline. Drones swarmed together to spell out a romantic message that had the whole city talking. "Happy Birthday, Princess Valerie." On my birthday last year, I was stuck at a college defense. The younger brother went out to celebrate the "birthday" with my sister. That night, the city had been just as spectacularly illuminated. My sister stared out the window. "That night, I only watched the fireworks for thirty minutes, but he kept me awake in bed for half the night. When I woke up, I could only remember him proposing." That night, when my sister came back, she told me she might actually be falling for him. I guess time breeds attachment. Tonight's fireworks would probably last all night, but the woman meant to be in that penthouse was standing right next to me. I ran my hand over the bags on the counter and asked the pawnbroker, "Can you go any higher?" The broker smiled and held up two fingers. "It's just garbage trash-man tactics. Don't look at it," I mumbled, nudging my sister with my elbow, trying to drag her out of her memories. "The owner said he'll add another twenty thousand. Deal?" My sister, hearing the money, nodded like a bobblehead. "Yes, yes, deal!" The owner shook his head, looking a little embarrassed. "I meant two hundred. Still interested?" All three of us froze. Especially my sister and me. Our expressions went purely contorted. I grit my teeth, pushing the bags toward him. "Deal!" "Sir, add a little more, please?" My sister gripped the strap of a bag, reluctant, trying to play pitiful to squeeze out a better price. I patted her shoulder, advising her, "If we don't sell now, we might never get cash for them." Stepping out of the pawn shop, I received a text from the older brother, telling me to come pick him up at a private club. I looked at my sister. "Who's going?" "I don't feel good. You go, Sis." I nodded. "Go back and rest. If you feel bad, buy some Ibuprofen. You know where it hurts, don't be a martyr. We have cash now." My sister readily agreed, clutching the bag of cash, and skipped away. She didn't look sick at all. 06 I carried a small bag containing Advil I had just bought downstairs. The hallway of the club was long, and the lights cast a patterned reflection on the oil paintings lining the walls. At the end of the hall, roars of laughter erupted from a private room. The entire floor had been rented out by the younger brother and his entourage; ordinary people couldn't get near it. The manager recognized me and assumed I was my sister, coming to party with Julian A. A server was just exiting the room with a tray of empty bottles. As we crossed paths, one of the bottles on the tray tipped. I reached out to steady it, and the Buddhist prayer beads around my wrist snapped. Sandalwood beads scattered across the floor. My heart gave an involuntary throb of pain. The server crouched down to help, but I stopped him. "It's fine. Go ahead, I can get them." As I knelt there, Valerie’s voice floated out clearly from the open door. "You guys have no idea. J-bird bet me he could lock Mu Qing down in one month. It took him two." "He dragged her around ruining her life for six months. Finally, when she showed up with an Ivy League acceptance letter to show him, he lost his mind. He packed up and left for Europe with me that same night." I pressed my lips together, the beads in my palm feeling icy cold. Someone laughed. "Then what?" "Then we got the older brother to help out." Valerie let out a sigh, her voice thick with resentment. "J-bird couldn't get over it even when we were abroad. So I gave him this idea. This time, we are definitely going to humiliate Mu Qing publicly. How dare she try to steal my spotlight? I hate her!" The older brother’s voice rang out suddenly. He sounded drunk. His slurred words were full of indulgence. "Okay, okay. Don't be mad. You're too pretty to frown." "Hmph. Did you sleep with her too, just like J-bird? Those poor trailer-park women are rotten to the core." Valerie pushed. "How is that possible? I’m not J. I don't just sleep with anyone." His voice dropped, sounding annoyed. "Seriously? Don't lie to me. When she gets here later, you have to help me get revenge." Valerie giggled, simpering. "Mhm," he mumbled, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "Don't be mad, Val. You are everything to me. Those fireworks across the city were for you." Standing outside the door, I actually started to laugh. I squeezed the beads I had gathered from the floor, pressing them into my palm until they turned red, but I couldn't feel the pain. The Advil was tossed into a trash can by the elevator. Leaving the club, the manager chased after me. "Did you not find Mr. Vance? Let me take you up." I offered a fake smile. "I found them. They’re still partying. I’ll just head out." The fireworks across the city were still relentlessly going off. God, they were ugly.
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