Chapter 4 The Real Heiress, The Real Curse

# Chapter 4 — The Real Heiress, The Real Curse

The DNA report lay open on the coffee table between us. Damien had been discharged from the hospital that morning, insisting on returning to the penthouse rather than recovering at his family's estate. Now we sat in his study, the weight of revelation hanging heavy in the air.

"Twins," I whispered, still struggling to process Juliette's bombshell. "And I'm the firstborn."

Damien watched me carefully, his injured arm in a sling. "How are you holding up?"

"I don't know." I ran my fingers over the test results. "My whole life, I thought I was nobody. Unwanted. Abandoned. Now I find out I'm heir to one of the largest shipping fortunes in the world, and my twin sister tried to murder both of us." I laughed hollowly. "It's a bit much for a Tuesday."

He reached across with his good hand, covering mine. "You were never nobody."

The simple statement, delivered with such quiet conviction, threatened to unravel me completely. I swallowed hard against the emotion rising in my throat.

"What happened after I was born? Why separate us?"

Damien's expression darkened. "From what I've pieced together from my father, the Blackwood fortune had a specific inheritance clause. The firstborn daughter would inherit everything—a tradition dating back generations. When your mother had twins, Juliette saw an opportunity."

"She took me to a foster home and kept Iris as the 'official' daughter," I concluded. "But why? What did she gain?"

"Control." Damien's voice was hard. "Your biological father died before you were born. Your mother remarried—to my father, Victor Cross. Juliette was his first wife, Vivian's mother. When he left her for your mother, she never forgave either of them."

"So she was my stepmother," I said, the pieces falling into place. "And when my mother died..."

"Juliette became your legal guardian. With you out of the picture, she controlled Iris's inheritance until she turned twenty-five."

A heavy silence fell between us as I absorbed this. My entire existence had been erased for money and revenge.

"And Iris? Did she know?"

"I don't think so. Not until recently." Damien shifted, wincing slightly at the movement. "My guess is she discovered the truth about the time she started trying to kill me."

"But why try to kill you? Why fake her death?"

His eyes met mine, troubled. "That's what I can't figure out. Unless..."

A knock interrupted us. Vivian entered, carrying a laptop. "Sorry to barge in, but you need to see this."

She set the computer down and played a video—security footage from what appeared to be Damien's office at Cross Industries. It showed Iris rifling through files, finding something that made her freeze. The timestamp showed a date three weeks before her "death."

"This was in the backup server," Vivian explained. "Someone tried to delete it, but IT recovered it when I asked them to search for anything unusual."

In the video, Iris made a phone call, her face contorted with anger. Though there was no audio, her agitation was clear.

"Can you read lips?" I asked Vivian.

"Some." She squinted at the screen. "She's saying something about... a curse? And... 'It's all a lie.' Then something I can't make out, and 'They'll all pay for this.'"

Damien's expression had grown distant, his mind clearly working through implications. "The merger documents," he said suddenly. "They're in my safe at the office. We need to see them."

Despite his doctor's orders to rest, Damien insisted on going to Cross Industries immediately. The massive glass tower in Midtown hummed with weekend skeleton staff, most averting their eyes as we passed—no doubt they'd all seen the wedding disaster headlines.

In his corner office overlooking Central Park, Damien went straight to a painting that concealed a wall safe. His fingers moved quickly over the keypad.

"Here," he said, pulling out a thick folder. "The original merger agreement between Cross Industries and Blackwood Shipping."

We spread the documents across his desk, scanning through legal jargon and financial projections.

"There," I pointed to a clause buried deep in the text. "Succession provisions."

The language was dense, but the meaning became clear as we read: In the event of marriage between the Cross and Blackwood heirs, control of both companies would be consolidated under the Cross family name, with the Blackwood heir retaining only ceremonial authority.

"She would have lost everything," I murmured. "The moment you married, you would have controlled her inheritance."

Damien looked stunned. "I never knew this clause existed. My father must have added it without telling me."

"And Iris discovered it," Vivian added. "No wonder she panicked."

"But why try to kill Damien?" I pressed. "Why not just call off the wedding?"

A new voice answered from the doorway. "Because of the second clause."

We turned to find Victor Cross standing there, his expression grave.

"If either party broke the engagement," he continued, entering the room, "they would forfeit fifty percent of company shares to the other family. Iris would have lost half her inheritance by simply walking away."

"So she tried to murder me instead," Damien said flatly.

Victor nodded. "Then when that failed, she fabricated her own death and manipulated Avery into taking her place—fulfilling the marriage contract while she escaped the 'curse.'"

"What curse?" I demanded. "Everyone keeps mentioning it, but no one will explain."

Victor and Damien exchanged a look that made my blood run cold.

"Show her," Victor said quietly.

Damien hesitated, then pulled up an archived news article on his computer. The headline read: "TRAGEDY STRIKES CROSS FAMILY AGAIN: THIRD BRIDE DIES WITHIN YEAR OF MARRIAGE."

"My grandfather's wife," Damien explained as I read. "Heart failure, six months after their wedding. Before that, my uncle's wife—cancer, diagnosed on their honeymoon. And my father's first wife—"

"Died in childbirth," Victor finished. "With Vivian."

"Juliette," I whispered. "She survived."

"Because we divorced before the year was up," Victor said. "When I fell in love with your mother, Eleanor Blackwood."

My head was spinning. "And my mother?"

"Car accident," Victor said, pain evident in his voice. "Eleven months after our wedding."

The implications were staggering. "So Iris believed that by having me marry Damien in her place..."

"She could escape the curse while securing her inheritance through you," Damien confirmed. "If you died as the Cross bride, she could reclaim her identity and her fortune afterward."

The coldness of the plan made me shiver. My own sister had marked me for death before I even knew she existed.

As we left the office, the weight of revelation hung heavy between us. In the elevator, Damien suddenly took my hand.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said with quiet intensity. "We'll find Iris, expose everything."

"Why do you care?" I asked, the question that had been nagging at me. "This started as a business arrangement."

His eyes held mine. "It stopped being business the moment you saved my life. Maybe even before that."

The elevator doors opened to the underground parking garage. As we stepped out, Damien's security detail moved to flank us.

"Ms. Mitchell," a voice called from across the garage.

I turned to see Iris stepping from behind a concrete pillar, her emerald eyes glinting in the dim light. How she'd gotten past security or made bail so quickly, I couldn't imagine, but there she was—my mirror image, twisted by hate.

"Iris," Damien moved protectively in front of me, but I stepped around him.

"No more hiding behind others," I said, facing my twin. "What do you want?"

"A sister chat." Her smile was venomous. "Just us twins."

"That's not happening," Damien growled.

"It's fine," I assured him, though my heart hammered in my chest. "She's unarmed, and we're in a building full of security cameras."

Reluctantly, Damien and his security team moved a short distance away, still within sight but giving us a semblance of privacy.

"So," Iris said, circling me like a shark. "The prodigal twin returns. How does it feel to learn you're the real heiress? That everything I had should have been yours?"

"I never wanted your life," I replied honestly.

"Liar." Her eyes flashed. "You slipped into it easily enough. My home, my fiancé." She leaned closer. "Is he falling for you yet? Damien has a savior complex, you know. He'll convince himself it's love."

The barb struck deeper than I cared to admit. "What happened to you, Iris? How did you become this person?"

Something flickered across her face—pain, perhaps, or a ghost of humanity. "I became what Juliette made me. The perfect heiress, the perfect pawn." Her composure cracked slightly. "Do you know what it's like to discover your entire existence is a lie? That you were the replacement all along?"

Despite everything, I felt a pang of sympathy. "I do, actually. I just found out yesterday."

She laughed bitterly. "Then you understand. Neither of us asked for this life."

"That doesn't justify attempted murder."

"Survival justifies everything." Without warning, she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the decorative pool in the center of the garage atrium. "You stole my life by being born first."

"Iris, stop—"

"You took my birthright!" With surprising strength, she shoved me into the shallow water. "I'm just taking it back!"

I fell backward, hitting the water with a splash. Before I could regain my footing, Iris was on top of me, pushing my head under the surface.

"You stole my life," she hissed, her face contorted above the rippling water. "I'm just returning the favor."

Water filled my nose and mouth as I struggled against her grip. Through the churning surface, I saw security running toward us, Damien in the lead despite his injury.

Then Iris was yanked away, and strong arms pulled me from the water. I coughed violently, expelling water from my lungs as Damien held me against his chest.

"You're not crazy," he shouted at Iris as security restrained her. "You're awake. You've always been awake!"

As I trembled in his embrace, soaked and gasping, Damien's arms tightened around me. For the first time since this nightmare began, I felt truly safe.

"You're not a replacement," he whispered fiercely in my ear. "You're my salvation."

And despite everything—the danger, the betrayal, the curse hanging over us—I found myself believing him.