CHAPTER THREE: THE TRAP IS SET
Lydia Harper had always trusted her instincts.
They were the quiet kind—soft nudges rather than loud alarms—but they had never failed her before. When something felt wrong, it usually was. When a smile felt forced, it often hid something sharp underneath.
So when she woke up one morning beside Ethan and felt… unsettled, she knew it wasn't just anxiety.
It was warning.
Ethan lay next to her, facing the window, his back to her. The morning light traced the familiar shape of his shoulders, the same shoulders she had leaned on for comfort countless times. Yet something about him felt distant, unreachable—like he was already halfway gone.
"Ethan?" she whispered.
He stirred. "Mm?"
"You barely slept."
"Just thinking," he said, turning toward her with a tired smile. "Wedding stuff."
She nodded, but her chest tightened.
Wedding stuff had become the excuse for everything lately. His silence. His distraction. His sudden irritability.
She wanted to push, to ask the questions burning inside her—but fear held her back. Fear that if she dug too deep, she might uncover something she wasn't ready to face.
So she smiled instead.
Evan watched them from across the street.
He leaned against his car, coffee cooling in his hand, eyes narrowed as he saw Ethan kiss Lydia goodbye before leaving for work. The tenderness of it—the familiarity—made Evan's jaw clench.
That should be mine.
The thought came easily now, without guilt or hesitation.
Evan had crossed the line weeks ago. There was no pretending otherwise. Every move he made from here on out was intentional. Calculated.
And today was important.
Today, he would push Lydia just a little further.
Lydia's phone buzzed an hour later while she worked in her studio.
Ethan: Can we talk later? Something important.
Her heart skipped.
Important never sounded good.
She typed back quickly.
Lydia: Of course. Is everything okay?
The reply came slower than usual.
Ethan: We'll talk tonight.
Her hands trembled as she set the phone down.
Across town, Evan smiled.
He had sent that message.
By late afternoon, Lydia was a bundle of nerves. She replayed every recent interaction with Ethan, searching for clues. Had she done something wrong? Had she pushed too hard? Loved too much?
She left the studio early, unable to focus, and decided to stop by the café where she and Ethan first met. Maybe sitting there would calm her.
It didn't.
Instead, Evan appeared.
"What a coincidence," he said smoothly, sliding into the chair across from her.
Lydia sighed. "Is it?"
Evan raised an eyebrow. "You look tense."
"Ethan wants to talk tonight," she admitted before she could stop herself.
Evan leaned forward, voice low. "Did he say about what?"
"No."
Evan hesitated—just long enough to appear conflicted. "Lydia… I didn't want to be the one to tell you this."
Her stomach dropped. "Tell me what?"
He exhaled slowly. "Ethan's been under a lot of pressure lately. He's been questioning things."
"What things?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
"The marriage," Evan said quietly.
The café seemed to tilt.
"That's not true," Lydia whispered. "He loves me."
"I know he does," Evan replied quickly. "But love doesn't always stop people from making mistakes."
The same word again.
Mistakes.
Lydia stood abruptly. "I need air."
Evan followed her outside, placing a hand on her arm. "I'm on your side. I always have been."
She pulled away, shaken.
Evan watched her leave, satisfaction curling in his chest.
That evening, Lydia prepared dinner but barely touched it. Every sound made her flinch. When Ethan finally arrived, he looked exhausted—eyes shadowed, shoulders slumped.
"We need to talk," he said.
Her heart pounded. "I know."
He frowned. "You do?"
She swallowed. "Evan told me you've been… questioning us."
Ethan stiffened. "What?"
"You're having doubts," she said softly. "About the wedding."
Ethan stared at her, confusion giving way to frustration. "I never said that."
"But you texted me—"
"I didn't," he interrupted. "I've been in meetings all day."
Silence stretched between them.
Lydia's breath came faster. "Then who—"
Realization dawned slowly. Too slowly.
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Evan."
The name landed like a bomb.
Before Lydia could respond, Ethan's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said too quickly. "Just work."
But Lydia saw the notification.
A photo preview.
A woman's hand on a familiar chest.
Her vision blurred. "Show me."
Ethan hesitated.
That hesitation destroyed what little hope she had left.
"Show me," she demanded, tears spilling over.
Ethan unlocked the phone. The photo filled the screen.
It was him—or someone who looked exactly like him—standing under a streetlight, lips dangerously close to a woman's ear.
"I swear to you," Ethan said urgently, "that isn't me."
Lydia laughed—a broken, hysterical sound. "You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes," he said fiercely. "Because I love you. Because I would never do this."
She backed away. "I saw you. That night. With my own eyes."
Ethan froze.
"Lydia… when?"
She told him.
And for the first time, fear crossed his face.
Evan watched from his car as Lydia stormed out of the house, tears streaking her face. Moments later, Ethan followed, calling her name.
Perfect.
Everything was unraveling exactly as planned.
But then something unexpected happened.
Ethan didn't chase Lydia.
He turned back inside.
And dialed Evan.
The brothers stood face to face in the Vale family garage, tension thick enough to choke on.
"What have you done?" Ethan demanded.
Evan shrugged. "What you couldn't."
"You're destroying my life," Ethan growled.
"You handed it to me," Evan shot back. "You got complacent. I just stepped in."
"She's not a prize," Ethan snapped. "She's a person."
Evan laughed bitterly. "Funny. She never felt like one when she looked at you like you hung the stars."
Ethan shoved him.
Evan shoved back harder.
"Stay away from her," Ethan warned.
Evan leaned in close, voice dripping poison. "Or what? You'll tell her the truth? Go ahead. She won't believe you. Not now."
Ethan realized, with sick clarity, that his brother had already won something crucial.
Lydia's trust.
That night, Lydia packed a bag.
She sat on the edge of the bed, shaking, replaying every moment, every warning she had ignored. Evan's words. Ethan's denials. The photo. The lies.
She didn't know who to believe anymore.
And that terrified her.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You don't have to go through this alone.
She stared at the message, dread curling in her stomach.
Another message followed.
I'm here for you. Always.
She knew who it was.
And for the first time since she fell in love, Lydia Harper felt truly trapped—caught between two identical faces, one truth, and a betrayal that was only just beginning.