The billionaire heir of Manhattan’s most powerful dynasty had been chasing me relentlessly for two years. I still hadn’t said yes. My friends all said I was playing hard to get—that I was dragging out the “chase” for too long. I looked down from my window at the man leaning against his sleek black Porsche, a cigarette between his lips, looking every bit the cold, untouchable Prince of the Upper East Side. “…Do you even know I have a twin sister?” I whispered to the empty room. “A sister with my exact face?” My friend, standing beside me, froze. In my past life, I was blinded by Harrison Reed’s grand gestures. I fell into his orbit, blurred by the whirlwind of his passion, and we were married before I could catch my breath. It wasn’t until our wedding day, when he laid eyes on my sister returning from London, that I realized the devastating truth: he had married the wrong woman. Snow began to fall, but the man below didn’t move. Finally, I pulled out my phone and sent him a single text with a flight number and a time. Meet me at JFK this Friday. This Friday was the day my sister was coming home. 1 The moment I sent the message, the man below finally moved. I stood by the window, hidden, watching him take his phone out with a practiced, nonchalant grace. A second later, he tilted his head back, searching my dark window. The lights were off; the curtains were drawn. Harrison couldn’t see me. Still, I instinctively pressed myself against the wall, hiding in the shadows. My phone buzzed. A new message from the man below: Where did you go? When did you leave the building? His questions were sharp, pressing, and demanding. I didn’t reply. Ever since he ran into me at the hospital two years ago, he had crashed into my life with the force of a hurricane. But this time, I had the memories of a ghost. I knew that every ounce of his heat, every desperate pursuit, was fueled by a case of mistaken identity. He thought I was the girl from his past—my sister. In my previous life, he hadn’t been kind to me. So in this life, unable to reveal Alana’s existence yet, I had treated him with nothing but ice. 2 But Harrison Reed was born with a silver spoon and a titanium will. His pursuit was suffocating. Money, attention, time—he threw them at me as if they cost him nothing. He made sure everyone in my circle knew he wanted me. Even my closest friends started accusing me of playing games. After all, this was Harrison Reed. Handsome, powerful, brilliant. A man without a single flaw on paper. My phone buzzed again. Another text. Ignore me then. Outside, the snow was thickening. Harrison looked up at my window one last time before finally getting into his car. He sat there for ten minutes, the engine idling, before driving out of the complex. I closed my eyes. When Harrison wanted to be good to someone, he made it easy to drown in him. That was how I had fallen in love so effortlessly the first time. But when he decided to be cold, he was a blade. The despair of that marriage was a wound that hadn’t healed. 3 While my sister, Alana, was preparing to return to New York, I was quietly preparing my own paperwork to go abroad. We shared the same face. Swapping lives was the easiest thing in the world. Our mother had once been a mistress, forced into the shadows. When she was pregnant with us, she fled to a remote town to hide. No one knew she had given birth to twins. Years later, when she was brought back into the high-society mansion of our biological father, she could only take one daughter with her. She took me. Alana was sent to a boarding school in Switzerland. For twenty years, we rotated. One year she was the “socialite daughter” in New York, the next year I was. Our mother could only afford to have one daughter exist in the public eye. We studied the same major—Medicine. We shared the same social media accounts. Alana knew exactly who Harrison Reed was. 4 In my past life, I fell for Harrison too fast. Love is exclusive, and in my selfishness, I hid Harrison’s existence from Alana, terrified of losing him. It wasn’t until our wedding day that I realized I was just the glitch in his and Alana’s story. But in this life, the day Harrison first appeared, I told her everything. Is this a debt you left behind in New York five years ago? I had asked her. Alana was always more vibrant than me. She laughed over the video call. Five years ago? How old was I then? She had no memory of a Harrison Reed. Even when I showed her photos and videos, she was a blank slate. I messaged back: But five years ago, I was in London. If he met someone, it couldn’t have been me. 5 Before I left the country, I didn’t expect to see Harrison one last time. It was 3:00 AM at the hospital. I had just finished assisting my mentor on a grueling surgery. I was slumped in a quiet stairwell, nodding off from sheer exhaustion, when someone sat down beside me and draped a heavy black wool coat over my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see the sharp, aristocratic lines of Harrison’s face. He didn’t care about his expensive suit as he sat on the dusty concrete steps, watching me. “Why med school? If it’s this exhausting, why did you choose this?” he asked. Because my mother almost died giving birth to us. A doctor saved all three of our lives. Alana and I had made a pact to pay that debt back to the world. But I didn’t tell Harrison that. I just leaned my head against the cold wall, turning away from him. “Why are you here again?” I whispered. “I told you—Friday. At the airport.” In the silence of the winter night, Harrison’s voice was low and devastatingly tender. “You’re not even trying to lie well,” he said. “I asked your professor. He said you aren’t leaving for your research trip until Wednesday.” He was too observant. “You were up there the other night. In your apartment. Watching me.” Harrison suddenly leaned in, resting his chin lightly on my shoulder. “Elena,” he said, using my name in a way that felt like a prayer. “Why are you so hard to catch?” As he leaned in, his scent—cold air and expensive sandalwood—wrapped around me. I blinked back tears. It wasn’t that I was hard to catch. It was that I had seen the ghost of his future coldness. I was terrified of the man he would become. I wanted nothing to do with him in this life. Finally, I told him, “Just give me a little more time.” Until Alana comes back. Until he sees her. They were the original players in this game. I would let Alana make the final move. 6 Friday night. Alana and I wore identical coats, carrying identical suitcases. We met in a cramped restroom at JFK. She hugged me tightly. “Five years, Elena. Then we swap back.” I didn’t commit to that. I just held her. If she found someone she loved here, if she wanted to stay and build a life, I would stay in London forever. We parted ways. She stepped into the role of the surgical intern, joining my mentor’s team. I stepped onto a flight bound for Heathrow. As the plane prepared for takeoff, I received a text from her. Your Harrison Reed is here. He’s quite the welcoming committee. They had met. It was done. I turned off my phone. 7 We had swapped SIM cards. When my ten-hour flight landed, my phone was flooded with messages. Mom, Alana, friends from London. Alana’s messages were at the top. She was talking about Harrison. I finally understand why you said everyone knows about him, she wrote. He’s loud. Not with words, but with presence. There was a department dinner tonight after the trip. Harrison just… showed up. He didn’t just pick me up; he had town cars waiting for the professor and all the residents. He’s colder in person than in the photos. Looking at him, I can’t imagine him chasing anyone. But he’s a gentleman. He knows exactly how much space to give. I can’t even find a reason to say no to him. The earlier messages were from right when she landed. She insisted she had no memory of him. Even seeing him in the flesh, I don’t remember him at all. I skimmed through the rest. I didn’t want to talk about Harrison. I’ve landed, Alana, I replied. It was nearly dawn in New York. She was likely asleep. I pushed my cart and walked out into the London fog. 8 Life in London was fast, but I adapted. Still, Alana’s messages from New York were a constant tether. Her topics were always the same: the grueling hospital shifts and Harrison Reed. Maybe it was because he was impossible to ignore. Alana’s casual chats always circled back to him. One night, she asked: Does Harrison remember every little thing about you? What you like to eat? I replied: Probably not. We didn’t eat together that often. I had been careful. I never showed him my true preferences. With the shadow of my past life hanging over me, I knew I was just a “placeholder” until the real girl arrived. I had spent two years being a shadow. Alana’s next message came quickly: But tonight at dinner, I reflexively picked the onions out of my salad. Harrison just… watched me. He didn’t say anything, but he looked at me for a long time. We had the same hair, the same face, the same voice. But our habits were shaped by different environments. Alana hated onions; I didn’t mind them. Do you think he suspects? she asked. I comforted her: Don’t worry. I never told him what I liked. He couldn’t possibly know. And besides, if he did find out there were two of us, it just meant he was one step closer to the truth. Alana was the one he had the “history” with. She was the one he was supposed to be with. 9 Our mother gave us her beauty. That was the curse that allowed our father to use her. And Alana and I inherited every bit of it. In London, men were constantly trying to get my attention. I looked at the blonde, blue-eyed intern currently trying to charm me into a date and shot him down for the third time. He didn’t give up. He slumped into the chair next to me, propping his chin on his hand, staring at me. He was persistent in a way that was just… annoying. Inevitably, my mind drifted back to Harrison. He had been raised in a house of stone and tradition. Even when he was being a rebel, he was refined. He was a gentleman. His pursuit was grand, but it was never “annoying.” I had fallen for him so easily once. Now, I was running away not just because of the pain, but because I was terrified of falling again. My phone chimed. Alana. It was late in New York. She said Harrison had found another “flaw” in the disguise. The scar on my inner right arm, she wrote. The one you don’t have. I knew that scar. An old childhood injury, faded almost to the color of her skin. Even our mother didn’t know about it. Harrison brought dinner to the hospital for me, Alana wrote. The heating was too high, so I pushed my sleeves up. When I reached for the bag, he went quiet. He just stared at the scar. He didn’t say anything, but I felt him watching me all evening. Harrison’s presence was a physical weight. I could practically feel Alana’s nervousness through the screen. I typed back: We didn’t spend enough time together for him to know your skin like that. The scar is faint. He’s probably just tired. 10 But Alana’s next question caught me off guard. Elena, what do you really think of Harrison Reed? She said he had been chasing me for two years—that he was devoted and patient. She didn’t understand why I was so resistant to a man who was, by all accounts, the catch of the century. Only two weeks in London, and even Alana was questioning my sanity. I waited a moment before replying: I don’t love him. I wanted to make it clear. Whatever you decide to do, Alana, don’t consider me. He was waiting for you from the beginning. Alana pushed back: It’s not about my decision. I’m telling you, Elena—I have no memory of this man. I don’t feel like I’ve ever met him. I can play your role anywhere else, but with him… when he’s good to me, I feel like a thief. I feel like I’m taking something that belongs to you. I froze at the screen. I remembered our wedding day in the past life. Alana had rushed back for the ceremony. Harrison had looked at her and gone completely still. In that one look, he realized everything. Our marriage was the end of “us.” We were strangers in a house of glass. We barely spoke. On our first New Year’s Eve as a married couple, the house was freezing. Harrison came home from a gala, sitting in the dark living room, silent. I had tried to talk to him. Since you realized you got the wrong one… why don’t you just go to her? I’m not unreasonable. We can swap. I’ll go back to London, let her come home. That was the first time I had initiated a conversation in months. In the shadows of the sofa, Harrison had looked at me for a long, agonizing time. Then he ripped his tie off, his voice raspy and cold. “She forgot me,” he said. “Or rather…” He paused. “She never remembered me at all.” 11 I had been staring at the phone for so long that the blonde intern nudged my arm. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said in broken, accented English. I startled, standing up abruptly. I packed my laptop and books, my heart racing. “Don’t follow me,” I snapped when he tried to chase after me. Alana was the cheerful one. I was the ice queen. He didn’t notice the difference; he just waved his car keys. “Let me give you a ride.” My phone vibrated. Alana was calling. I picked up, and before she could speak, I said, “You don’t need to feel guilty. Some things you forget, but others remember for you.” Alana sighed on the other end. “Elena… Harrison hasn’t come to see me in three days.” “The first week, he was there every single day. Then he noticed the onions. He saw the scar. He didn’t ask a single question, but it’s like he’s behind a wall of fog now. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He just… stopped coming.” I stood still in the middle of the sidewalk. “Elena,” Alana asked softly, “are you absolutely sure you haven’t remembered it wrong?” I hadn’t. The memories of my past life were etched into my bones. I had met Harrison at the hospital the day my “second life” started. He had already met Alana by then. He had mistaken me for her. It was destiny. “I haven’t remembered it wrong,” I told her. “And Alana… stop talking to me about him. Do whatever you want, but I don’t want to hear his name again.” Every time I thought of him, I was back in that dark, cold house. 12 After that day, Alana stopped mentioning him. I didn’t know how he was, or what was happening between them. I threw myself into my studies, finally feeling a sense of peace. The blonde intern wouldn’t leave me alone, though. Eventually, I lost my temper. “What do you even like about me?” He grinned. “Everything. If it’s you, I like every part of it.” I laughed bitterly. He couldn’t even tell the woman in front of him was a different person, yet he claimed to love “everything.” A month passed. I hadn’t heard the name Harrison Reed in weeks. He felt like a dream from a past life—until he wasn’t. It was a chaotic night in the ER. The nurses were rushing a gurney toward the OR. I instinctively looked down. A man with dark hair, his face covered in blood, lay unconscious on the bed. My heart stopped. My entire body turned to stone. I thought I was hallucinating. Why was I seeing Harrison Reed, half-dead and bleeding out, in a hospital on the other side of the Atlantic?
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “546287”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply