With my bleeding heart on my sleeves, and my fidgety legs leaving wet trails on the floor, I enter the room. Michael is looking out the magnificent view from the floor to ceiling windows, obviously waiting for an explanation of the double identity. An explanation I don't have.
I clear my throat to announce my presence. He spins to face me.
"Tell me why there are two names attached to your social security number."
"H-how did you find out?" I ask in a voice too weak to hold any conviction.
The way his brows furrow at me, I know that was a wrong move.
His eyes narrow as he starts closing the space between us. The closer he gets, the more nervous I become.
"She's my sister." I blurt out.
"You're a twin?"
I nod, looking everywhere but at him, "But I was adopted."
"Still doesn't explain why you share your SSN with her."
"I can't explain it either. It must have been a mistake from the—"
My phone starts ringing. I rush towards it as if it's my life saver, ignoring the suspicion written all over Michael's face.
"I'm sorry but I have to take this. It's my mother." I shut the bathroom door, turn on the shower before picking up the call.
"George."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes as he begins rattling about how I broke his heart by going ahead to marry off some billionaire, all because of his money.
"Is this why you called?" I ask him when I could no longer bear his tears.
"I miss you baby. I'm sorry for jeopardizing your work. I promise to make things right, okay?"
That smirk on his face after he had finished sabotaging my career appears on my mind, further angering me. I knew then that I won't be forgiving him anytime soon.
"Go to sleep George, you sound drunk."
I wake up very early next morning to a text from Dave which says; "Get it done ASAP. You snooze, you lose."
Why did he send me such a risky text at such a peaceful hour? He must be out of his freaking mind, I concluded as I tiptoe out of the room while dialing his number. The coolness of the early morning weather did nothing to calm my boiling blood.
He picks on the first ring, "Is it done already?"
"I didn't know I was supposed to perform some magic immediately I step into his house."
"That's literally your job, Sarah. To get it done immediately if possible."
I heave out a frustrated breath, "Can you please chill? It will take me some time to establish some trust and we—"
"That's the problem. We don't have time. I need that confession before this week runs out."
My eyes widen in horror, "You're giving me an ultimatum? You don't expect me to perform magic, do you?"
"Do it if that's what it takes, Sarah. Just get the job done."
Sighing out loud, I head back upstairs. I slump back into the bed, hating my life all over again. Even though the pillows are the softest I have ever laid my head on, the burdens on my head are making it hard to notice.
I face Micheal on tossing. He looks so peaceful as he sleeps. The way his light snores sound rhythmic makes me wonder if he really is the man behind the dangerous drug chain business. Or if he is fronting for a more scary man we haven't yet uncovered.
I couldn't help but to caress his full beards, allowing the soft hairs to tickle me. He smiles and leans into my touch.
"Hey baby." he murmurs, his eyes still closed.
"Sleepy head."
"Mhmmm?"
"Tell me how you made your first billion."
He snaps his eyes open, his frown line deepening, "You should be packing for our honeymoon baby. Not asking me silly questions."
He plants a soft kiss on my forehead, then backs me and falls back asleep.
I stare out of the window. The sun is starting to rise at the horizon, its captivating glow promising a beautiful day. I watch its golden rays spread to the sky, while still trying to come up with a plan on how to get Michael to talk.
What if I serve him breakfast in bed? Will that excite him enough to open up to me?
I tiptoe down to the kitchen to get started. But before I could round up with the scrambled eggs and oats, Micheal is already rushing out of the house. He promises to make it up to me during dinner.
Just then, a better idea lands in my head. Why try to force him to talk, when I can enhance it with some substance?
Everything was going well with my plan. Even Dave approves of it and promises to get a junior staff to drop by the mansion with exactly what I need.
So when the doorbell chimes, I stride confidently to the door, ready to pick up the substance and get started with the dinner already. But I stopped dead in my tracks on seeing who it was.
"What are you doing here?" I ask in a strained voice. I resist the urge to add 'you backstabbing bitch.'
Natasha breezes past me. Her eyes widening in wonder as she takes in the mansion.
"This feels like a dream. Your wildest dream just came true!"
Yeah right. So you can have George now. I finish off for her in my mind.
She goes on talking, too excited to notice the evil glare I'm sending her way. She even joined me in preparing dinner.
"Do you think George will move on?" I ask her as she stirs the simmering carrot and chicken sauce.
"Sure!" she exclaims, "I mean, who wouldn't?"
"I didn't marry Micheal for real. This is still an—"
"Undercover," she finishes for me. Then her lips curve in a mischievous smirk, "I know. But George doesn't know that. Does he?"
Natasha must really take me for a fool by trying to play the double-faced bitch. But I tuck the thoughts of giving her the revenge she deserves to focus on the matter at hand.
And while sprinkling the substance on top of the carrot sauce, I smile, knowing that I might be a step closer in getting the confession.