The Twin's Last Martian Wish

For five years, I played the part of the devoted wife to a billionaire who despised me. I endured his coldness, his public affair with his mistress Gisele, and every humiliation he threw my way. All of it was a performance, a long game for one single purpose.

On our fifth anniversary, the day my contract ended, I finally collected my deceased fiancé Julian's ashes. His last wish was to have them scattered on Mars, a dream only accessible to me through my marriage to his identical twin brother, Clayton.

With my mission accomplished, I asked for a divorce. But Clayton, the man who had ignored me for half a decade, refused. He laughed, then kissed me with a brutal possessiveness I' d never felt before. "You're not going anywhere," he whispered. "You're mine now."

He dragged me from our sterile penthouse, his eyes burning with a terrifying obsession. He offered me a real marriage, a child, a future I never wanted. He couldn't understand that my heart had always belonged to his dead brother.

When I finally revealed the truth-that our entire marriage was just a means to fulfill Julian's last wish-he didn't let me go. He broke. He abandoned his mistress, begged, and even kidnapped me, convinced he could force me to love him.

"You'll learn to be mine," he snarled, his sanity unraveling as he held me captive on his private jet. "We'll have children. They'll bind us together. You'll never leave me then."

But he was wrong. This wasn't the story of a woman won over by a monster's late-blooming love. This was the story of my escape, and I was finally ready to be free.

Chapter 1

Ada Mcfadden POV:

The words tasted like freedom on my tongue, even as they shattered the illusion he so carefully clung to. "I want a divorce, Clayton."

His laughter, low and dismissive, echoed in the vast, sterile living room. It was the same laugh he used when closing a multi-billion dollar deal, arrogant and utterly confident in his control. He didn't even look up from the financial reports displayed on his holographic tablet.

"Always with the dramatics, Ada," he drawled, his voice laced with the familiar edge of contempt. "What is it this time? Did Gisele post another picture? Are you feeling neglected again?"

My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. Neglected. That was a polite word for what I had endured for the past five years. It was a polite word for being invisible.

"It's our fifth anniversary, Clayton," I stated, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. "The deal is done."

He finally lifted his head, his eyes, so startlingly like Julian's, glinting with a cold amusement that Julian had never possessed. Clayton Parrish, tech mogul, billionaire, my estranged husband, and my deceased brother's identical twin.

"Five years, Ada," he corrected, a smirk playing on his lips. "And you're still here. Still playing the devoted wife. You think I don't see it?"