I Was the Decoy Twin - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
You are reading I Was the Decoy Twin, Chapter 10: Chapter 10. Read more chapters of I Was the Decoy Twin.
The Cortez family estate was swarmed with police cars and ambulances, throwing everything into chaos.
By the time the news reached me, I was lounging under the sun at my overseas estate, soaking in the warmth.
Damian handed me a glass of red wine, his tone casual but tinged with dark amusement. "Heard Valentina lost the baby, hemorrhaged badly, and had to get a hysterectomy."
He took a sip before continuing. "Meanwhile, the cops dug up proof she didn't kill you. Kevin lost it at the station—accused them of planting evidence, made such a scene they locked him up."
A smirk played on his lips. "When they finally cut him loose, Valentina—who'd bolted from the hospital—ran him over. Shattered his leg. Then, as if that wasn't enough, she drove straight to the Cortez estate and took out Mrs. Cortez. Her husband's in a coma now."
I snatched the wine from Damian and downed it in one go. "Not my problem."
Valeria was dead to this world. Anyone tied to that name meant nothing to me now.
I went by Verana these days—sole owner of this estate, bought with the fortune Damian and I made from a project we built in college. We sold it for a killing.
But Damian and I? Never lovers.
Back when Valentina waltzed back into the picture, Kevin became obsessed. So I stepped aside, let Damian play the doting fiancé. Never expected things to spiral like this…
I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.
Damian scowled and yanked the empty glass from my hand. "You just got better. Doc said no heavy drinking."
I stared at it, the taste still lingering on my tongue—bitter, like the past I refused to swallow.
For reasons unknown—guilt, a shred of conscience, who knows—Kevin's doctor buddy hadn't gone through with killing me. The sulfuric acid had been diluted to nothing. The burns were agony at first, but with time, they faded without a trace.
The cuts on my stomach? Barely scratches. No surgery needed. Once the scabs peeled off, it was like they'd never been there.
But…
My hand drifted to my lower abdomen.
The surgery three years ago—that was real. My uterus was gone. And for that, I'd never forgive Kevin.
Damian hesitated, then muttered, "No one's handled Mrs. Cortez's funeral yet. Before she died… she kept calling your name."
"Hire a funeral home. Do it anonymously. But I'm not going." I turned away, a single tear escaping before I could stop it. I wiped it clean, my voice steady. "Some people only appreciate what they had after it's gone."
But not me.
The past was dead.
The future? I'd never have to see them again.
(The End)
By the time the news reached me, I was lounging under the sun at my overseas estate, soaking in the warmth.
Damian handed me a glass of red wine, his tone casual but tinged with dark amusement. "Heard Valentina lost the baby, hemorrhaged badly, and had to get a hysterectomy."
He took a sip before continuing. "Meanwhile, the cops dug up proof she didn't kill you. Kevin lost it at the station—accused them of planting evidence, made such a scene they locked him up."
A smirk played on his lips. "When they finally cut him loose, Valentina—who'd bolted from the hospital—ran him over. Shattered his leg. Then, as if that wasn't enough, she drove straight to the Cortez estate and took out Mrs. Cortez. Her husband's in a coma now."
I snatched the wine from Damian and downed it in one go. "Not my problem."
Valeria was dead to this world. Anyone tied to that name meant nothing to me now.
I went by Verana these days—sole owner of this estate, bought with the fortune Damian and I made from a project we built in college. We sold it for a killing.
But Damian and I? Never lovers.
Back when Valentina waltzed back into the picture, Kevin became obsessed. So I stepped aside, let Damian play the doting fiancé. Never expected things to spiral like this…
I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.
Damian scowled and yanked the empty glass from my hand. "You just got better. Doc said no heavy drinking."
I stared at it, the taste still lingering on my tongue—bitter, like the past I refused to swallow.
For reasons unknown—guilt, a shred of conscience, who knows—Kevin's doctor buddy hadn't gone through with killing me. The sulfuric acid had been diluted to nothing. The burns were agony at first, but with time, they faded without a trace.
The cuts on my stomach? Barely scratches. No surgery needed. Once the scabs peeled off, it was like they'd never been there.
But…
My hand drifted to my lower abdomen.
The surgery three years ago—that was real. My uterus was gone. And for that, I'd never forgive Kevin.
Damian hesitated, then muttered, "No one's handled Mrs. Cortez's funeral yet. Before she died… she kept calling your name."
"Hire a funeral home. Do it anonymously. But I'm not going." I turned away, a single tear escaping before I could stop it. I wiped it clean, my voice steady. "Some people only appreciate what they had after it's gone."
But not me.
The past was dead.
The future? I'd never have to see them again.
(The End)
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