Burning For The Twin Billionaire Heirs

Serena

The crack in the doorframe was just wide enough for me to hear what was going on.

My aunt's voice slithered through, and I gulped, listening carefully. “Tonight. Saint Rivers himself is coming. He'll pay enough to keep me comfortable for years.”

I froze, my breath trapped in my throat.

Saint Rivers. The name alone screamed wealth, affluence and power. He was Riverdale Corporations' ruthless heir, the man tabloids called “the iceberg in a suit.”

Cold and untouchable. The kind of billionaire who bought companies for sport and discarded people like yesterday's news.

She laughed, a dry, ugly sound. “The girl is ripe. And fertile. But completely clueless. She's perfect for what he needs, a clean, quiet bride no one will miss.”

My stomach lurched. She wasn’t just sending me away. She was selling me off.

I backed up silently, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. My aunt had lied before, but this? This felt real. She'd hated me since the day my mother vanished and my father, always gone with the army, finally died in action.

She'd kept me here after graduation, claiming I owed her for the food, water and roof over my head.

So I spent months of unpaid labor living with her after graduation.

I bolted to my room, yanked open the wardrobe, and started shoving clothes into my old backpack.

I packed essentials only. My phone, my ID, and the little cash I'd been able to save up. There was no time for sentiment.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. They were heavy and coming fast. I cursed under my breath and shoved the bag back in just as the door flew open.

My aunt filled the frame, her eyes glittering with triumph. “Going somewhere, Serena?”

The bag tumbled out at that moment, spilling across the floor like evidence.

She stepped inside, kicking the door shut.

“You’re pathetic, but convenient. Listen up, Saint Rivers changed his mind, he's coming this afternoon. He wants to see his purchase himself.”

I stumbled back, my legs hitting the bed. “Why me? Why Saint Rivers? Why are you even doing this? He could have anyone.”

She smirked lazily. “Because he needs a wife the media won't recognize. A girl without connections or a media scandal. Just a naive girl who won't ask questions.” Her gaze raked over me. “And you're damaged goods. Perfect price tag.”

My voice cracked. “You can't do this. I won't—”

“People do anything for money, Serena.” She turned toward the door. “Shower and dress nicely in five minutes. He wants a submissive bride, not a smelly hag.”

She slammed the door shut and the lock clicked a second after. I was trapped.

I sank onto the mattress, my knees weak. My mind raced. There was no escaping this place. The windows were barred, the front door was her domain, and the back exit led straight past her.

And Saint Rivers was coming. Soon.

I stared at the cracked mirror across the room. My reflection was pale, my eyes wide as if I was high on shock. My hair was a long, thick mess.

The girl who'd survived years of cruelty was about to be handed to the coldest man in the city like a business deal.

I'd barely zipped the back of my dress, the cheap white one I'd worn for my prom night, when tires screeched outside. It sounded like metal claws on asphalt.

The lock twisted and the door slammed open.

My aunt stood there, her face blank as stone. “Move.”

I obeyed even though my legs were numb. My heart was hammering so loud I swore the walls heard it.

She marched me down the narrow hallway like livestock on its way to auction into our tiny living room.

Six bulky men filled the space. They were dressed in expensive black suits, white earpieces dangling from their ears. Their shoulders were wide enough to block the light. These were bodyguards, real ones.

And then my gaze crashed into him. Saint Rivers.

He stood apart from the others, his hands in pockets. His posture was relaxed but lethal. He was tall, impossibly tall.

His dark hair was swept back, and his sharp jawline shadowed with stubble. His unreadable storm-grey eyes pinned me like a butterfly to a board.

The air sucked out of the room, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

He was more dangerous in person than any tabloid photo. Power rolled off him in waves. The kind that didn't need to shout.

My aunt stepped forward and spoke up in her smooth lying voice. “Mr. Rivers, I can't believe you're here in the flesh. She's ready, as promised.”

His gaze never left me, assessing me slowly like he was pricing livestock.

“My twin brother will confirm if she's truly ready,” his voice was hard as steel, deep like a bass singer growling through a mic.

Wait. What? Twin brother? Saint River had a twin?

My aunt's mouth dropped. Shock cracked her mask for the first time. “Your brother? You didn't mention anything about a twin brother.”

Not even the tabloids had ever mentioned anything about a twin.

The front door opened again, and an exact photocopy of Saint walked in.