Chapter 4: Playing Along

Five days until I go abroad.

By now, I can easily tell the Grant brothers apart.

Ethan is cold and brooding, rarely smiles, and is a workaholic.

Ryan likes to act spoiled, and has a mole on his hip—you can see it every time he takes off his shirt.

I don’t know if Ethan has that mole too. He never touched me.

Ryan always wore his watch on the right wrist. Ethan hated watches—said they felt like handcuffs. I keep the details straight in my head now—the way Ethan’s voice drops when he’s annoyed, the way Ryan bites his lower lip when he’s trying to charm someone. It’s the little things that give them away, if you care enough to look.

In the morning, when I went downstairs, Ethan was sitting there, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and reading the Wall Street Journal.

The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, catching the polished marble countertops and the family photos that lined the hall. Ethan looked every inch the heir—impeccable suit, hair perfectly in place, the Wall Street Journal spread wide like he owned the city. A mug of dark roast coffee sat untouched by his elbow, steam curling in the crisp air. I could smell the hint of cinnamon rolls baking, mixing with the sharp scent of newsprint. NPR murmured low from the speaker on the counter.

"Harper, dress nicely today. We have guests coming."

Reading the paper so early, wearing those glasses, and speaking in that cold tone—

It was definitely Ethan.

The peanut gallery was buzzing with excitement.

[Hee hee, today she’s finally going to meet Ryan face-to-face.]

[The side character has been toyed with by Ryan, he knows all her sensitive spots, but she still has to pretend she doesn’t know him—must be suffocating.]

[People from the wrong side of town will endure anything for money. Our girl is better—the true main character, never relying on anyone.]

[This meeting is just a setup for humiliating the side character publicly on her birthday. Can’t wait.]

[The main girl is so cunning. I love her.]

I went upstairs to change.

The closet was a museum of someone else's taste—dresses with tags still on, heels too high for running, designer labels that felt like a costume. I settled for a simple navy wrap dress, something that let me move, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I caught my reflection—mascara smudged, dark circles, but my chin set with quiet defiance.

At noon, Ryan arrived with Natalie.

Looking at Ryan, who looked exactly like Ethan, I pretended to be stunned, showing just the right amount of surprise.

Ethan introduced, "This is my twin brother, just back from a business trip overseas."

Ryan reached out his hand. "Hey."

I shook his hand as well. "Hi."

I smiled. "I didn’t expect you two to look exactly alike."

Ryan’s expression didn’t change, his smile warm and harmless. "There’s plenty you don’t know."

Sometimes, I really admire Ryan. We’ve slept together countless times, but he can still pretend not to know me.

Natalie laughed, "No need to introduce me—I was Harper’s college roommate."

She took my arm, her voice sharp as a blade. "So, Harper, rumor is you’re marrying Ethan. Guess who just volunteered as your maid of honor?"

Before she finished speaking, the chef came to announce lunch was ready.

The dining room was staged to perfection, light filtering through the crystal chandelier. Natalie perched between Ethan and Ryan at the table, like a cat with cream. There was a certain tension under the surface—forks scraping china, laughter just a bit too loud.

At the dining table, Natalie sat between Ethan and Ryan.

She rested her chin on her hand, smiling as she asked me, "Harper, have you noticed any changes in Ethan lately?"

I knew she was doing it on purpose—just to see me embarrass myself.

So I played along.

I put down my fork and nodded. "Yeah, he’s really changed a lot this year."

At that moment, time seemed to freeze.

Everyone paused for a second.

Especially the Grant brothers—their expressions stiffened.

I suddenly smiled, cheeks flushing slightly. "He’s gotten even better to me. I find myself liking him more and more."

Ethan glanced at Ryan, his face darkening.

During the meal, Ryan naturally placed a peeled shrimp in my bowl and said affectionately, "Good girl, garlic shrimp—no shell, your favorite."

Ryan’s eyes flicked up, daring me to react. Ethan’s jaw clenched so hard I thought he’d shatter his molars. A hush fell over the room, the only sound the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. I forced a bright smile, feeling all eyes on me, the taste of garlic sharp and metallic on my tongue. Outside, somewhere on the manicured lawn, a lawnmower droned, oblivious to the drama brewing inside. I kept my back straight, willing myself to hold together for just a few more days, until I could disappear for good.

I forced the shrimp past the lump in my throat, tasting nothing but dread. Across the table, Natalie’s smile sharpened, and I knew—I wasn’t the only one playing pretend.