The ticking of the antique clock was deafening.
Sara Williams sat perfectly still on the edge of the velvet chaise, her palms pressed tightly against her knees, leaving crescent moon marks where her fingernails dug into skin. The drawing room — usually a place of sterile luxury — felt like a cage now. Everything around her gleamed in gold, but none of it could soften the fury thick in the air.
The letter sat on the mahogany table like a dagger.
"She ran away," her father whispered, his voice hollow as he stared at the paper in disbelief. "Your sister... your sister ran away."
Lady Madeline Williams stood frozen by the fireplace, hands trembling. Her perfectly styled hair and diamond earrings looked almost grotesque in the raw chaos that clung to the room. "This is a joke," she muttered. "This has to be one of Kara's dramatic stunts. She'll show up. She always does."
"No," Sara said softly. "She's gone. She left last night."
Her mother's eyes snapped to hers. "You knew?"
Sara didn't look away. "Yes."
A pause.
"You helped her," Madeline hissed, stepping closer. "Didn't you?"
Sara didn't flinch. "I didn't stop her."
Mr. Williams slammed his palm on the table so hard the letter flew to the floor. "Do you know what you've done?! Do you even understand what today is?!"
"The engagement," Sara replied quietly.
"To Killian King," her father roared. "Not just any man. The King family controls half the global economy. And we—we—were about to become part of that legacy. Do you know what this alliance meant to this family?!"
Sara's voice trembled, but she held her ground. "It meant selling Kara into a marriage she didn't want."
Madeline turned sharply. "She agreed."
"She agreed because she felt trapped," Sara said, a sharpness in her tone that surprised even her. "You expected her to give up everything she wanted, everything she worked for, just to wear a ring and smile beside a man she's never even met?"
"You ungrateful little—" Madeline's voice cracked. "You've always been jealous of her. That's what this is about. You were born a copy, and you hated her for it."
Sara stood, the words stinging but not surprising. "No. I loved her enough to let her go."
That silenced the room.
A strange, almost mournful silence.
Then, her father turned slowly, his voice like ice. "Then you will take her place."
Sara blinked. "What?"
"You'll marry Killian King in her name. You're identical. No one will know."
"I—I can't—"
"You can," he snapped. "And you will. Do you think we have time for your soft little conscience? Do you have any idea what happens if Killian finds out we've lied? Do you want to see this family buried in lawsuits and scandal and ruin?"
Sara stepped back. "He'll know."
"He won't," her father growled. "You'll smile, you'll nod, you'll wear the ring and do your duty. It's what Kara was supposed to do."
"I'm not Kara."
"No," her mother sneered. "You're not. But today, you'll pretend to be."
The first time Sara saw Killian King, the air left her lungs.
He stepped out of a sleek, black Maybach, dressed in a tailored three-piece suit like he'd walked out of a nightmare meant for someone else. Cold. Controlled. Almost too beautiful. His black hair was neatly combed back, revealing sharp cheekbones and darker eyes — eyes that held centuries of cruelty.
When he looked at her, something flickered in his gaze. Something that said he knew.
"This is Kara?" he asked, his tone unreadable.
Sara's mouth was dry. She opened it, but the words refused to come.
Her father stepped in. "Yes. Kara Williams. We're honored."
Killian stared at her like she were a puzzle that didn't quite fit. "You look… different."
Sara forced a smile. "It's been a long week."
He didn't return it. Just extended his hand.
His touch was fire and frost all at once. His grip lingered a beat too long.
Sara felt it in her bones.
He knew.
The engagement ceremony was a blur. A nightmare in velvet and forced smiles.
Everyone praised her beauty. Called her lucky. Whispers circled around how intimidating yet irresistible Killian was. That she was marrying the most powerful man in the world.
Not once did anyone ask if she was happy.
Killian stood beside her the entire night, silent and watchful, barely touching her but never straying too far. When he did speak, it was with sharp precision — as if every word was a contract.
It wasn't until they were alone in the car, after the engagement party ended, that he finally spoke directly to her again.
"You're not Kara."
Sara froze. "I—"
"Don't lie." His voice was low, almost calm. That made it worse.
She turned to him slowly. "You knew."
"I don't like being lied to," he said coldly, eyes locked on the road ahead. "Especially by women who wear someone else's name and expect to take her place in my bed."
Sara felt her chest tighten. "I didn't choose this. I didn't want any of this."
"No?" He turned to her, and the fury that simmered beneath his elegant mask finally surfaced. "You stood there beside me. You wore her dress. You said yes. That's a choice, Sara."
Her name on his tongue burned.
"She's my sister," she said quietly. "She didn't want to be forced into this life. She wanted freedom. And I— I let her go."
He leaned in, his eyes inches from hers, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
"And now you'll pay for it."
Sara swallowed hard. "You should have refused. When you knew I wasn't her. You should have walked away."
"Walk away?" he echoed, almost amused. "No, sweetheart. I don't walk away from betrayal. I conquer it."
Their wedding was three days later. Quick. Quiet. Clinical.
Sara barely remembered it. Only the cold metal of the ring as he slid it on her finger. Only the way he whispered in her ear during the vow exchange.
"If you think this ends with 'I do,' you're more naive than I thought."
---
That night, in their shared bedroom, Sara stood by the window, staring out at the city lights, wrapped in silence. She didn't dare sit on the bed. It felt like a trap.
Killian walked in without a word, unbuttoning his cuffs, tossing his jacket onto the chaise. He didn't look at her. Didn't acknowledge her presence.
"You can relax," he said after a long moment. "I won't touch you."
Sara turned slowly. "Why not?"
He scoffed, finally meeting her gaze. "Because I don't f*ck ghosts."
The words hit harder than a slap.
Sara's throat closed. "You want her back."
"I want what was promised to me," he replied. "What I paid for."
"I'm not an object."
"No. You're a liar. And now, you're my wife."
He walked to the door, pausing only once.
"Enjoy the view, Mrs. King. It's the only freedom you'll have in this prison."
When he left, the silence returned — but this time, it wasn't empty.
It was hers.
And as she stared at the moon, heart aching, body trembling, she whispered to herself, "If this is war… I will survive."