In the arms of two sins

Mara's POV

"You have to show your face, Mara. This family won't survive another scandal. Remember whose name you carry."

Camille's words still echoed in my head, not as an advice, but a warning.

Of course she'd say that. It's her daughter's grand engagement party, and the Lawsons never let grief stand in the way of appearances. Philip's funeral had barely faded from memory, yet here we were dressed in gold, pretending the dead didn't exist.

Inside, chandeliers burned too bright, and every face turned when I walked in. Maybe they were searching for another reason to whisper about me. Last time, I was the curse that brought the Lawsons bad luck.

What would it be this time?

"Mara," Camille's voice sliced through the crowd. She approached with a practiced smile. "You made the right choice coming."

Her cheek brushed mine in a polite peck that fooled the cameras, not me.

"People have been asking about you," she whispered. "There are cameras everywhere. Behave accordingly."

Then she pulled back, smiling sweetly for the room. "Let me call Andrea."

While she walked off, I took in the decorations, every inch of the mansion draped in luxury. All for Andrea. I was never treated this way. Not even when Philip was alive. I should hate him for things he did... but he was still my husband.

"Mara!"

I looked up. Andrea was gliding toward me, Camille beside her. And then...

My breath caught.

David.

Standing next to her, smiling faintly. My boyfriend before the situation with Philip happened. The man who once promised me forever.

"Oh God..." The words barely left my lips.

"I didn't think you'd come," Andrea chirped. "Anyways, meet David, my fiancé. David, this is my sister-in-law, Mara."

Her hand curled possessively over his arm. My gaze dropped to the ring on her finger, the same ring he once bought for me.

"Nice to meet you," I managed, though my voice sounded strange in my ears. He said nothing, only looked at me, too long, too deep. I couldn't read the meaning in his eyes, and I didn't want to try.

"Congratulations," I whispered. "Please excuse me."

"Are you leaving already? You just came. Besides, we have a special guest we'll meet soon," Camille cut in.

"Mother, I'm still here," I murmured quickly, forcing a smile before slipping away.

The music was too loud. The laughter too sharp. I headed for the bar, anywhere away from their eyes.

As I waited for my drink, I looked back across the hall. Andrea was glowing, her arm looped through David's as Camille introduced them to a group of socialites. He leaned in, whispered something that made her blush, the kind of smile that once belonged to me.

My throat tightened.

Then, as if sensing me, David turned. Our eyes met for the briefest second. I turned away immediately, heat rushing to my face.

I hated that he could still make me feel anything at all.

I grabbed the glass the bartender slid across and downed it in one go. The burn didn't help. I reached for another, then carried the bottle with me as I left the bar.

The lounge was quieter, dim, hushed, and lined with velvet. I just wanted to be alone. The last time I drank like this was weeks after I lost my baby.

Was I angry that my ex was marrying my sister-in-law? Or angry that I still cared?

I drank until the room began to blur, until my heart went numb.

"I didn't expect anyone else here," a voice said, making me flinch.

I turned toward the sound, a man's figure emerging from the shadows.

No one should've been here. All the guests were downstairs.

His suit was undone at the collar, his expression unreadable in the low light.

"You shouldn't be here," I murmured, trying to stand, but my balance betrayed me.

He caught my arm before I could fall. His grip was firm, steady in a way that made my chest twist.

"You've had enough," he said quietly. "I'll call someone to take you downstairs. This place isn't for guests."

He reached for the bottle, taking it gently from my hands, and I stared at him, something about him unsettlingly familiar.

"Wait," I whispered, and he froze. He obeyed, eyes locked on mine.

That was when I really saw him. Effortlessly handsome. Every detail perfect, from the dark hair to his grey eyes to the lips that twitched slightly, as if holding back words.

It was cruel. Cruel how much he looked like Philip.

Then it hit me, a memory I thought I'd buried for good. Philip, in his office, kissing another woman. I'd brought him lunch that day, smiling like a fool, until I saw them. And I left before he could even see me.

"Why wasn't I enough for you?" The words slipped out, soft but breaking.

He didn't answer. Just stared.

I wanted what he gave to that woman. I wanted Philip to look at me the way he looked at her. To kiss me like he loved me. But he never did.

This wasn't Philip. This was a stranger, one who made me forget why I'd gotten drunk in the first place.

And in that silence, my body betrayed me, craving him.

I leaned closer and kissed him.

It was wild, desperate, a clash of anger and need. His taste was fire and whiskey, scorching against my tongue. He resisted for just a heartbeat, but then his hand slid to my waist, dragging me against him.

A gasp escaped me, swallowed by his mouth. His kisses were rough, as though once he'd given in, he couldn't stop. He kissed like a man fighting himself, torn between pushing me away and devouring me whole.

Philip never kissed me like this. Never touched me like I mattered.

This man's touch burned through me, reckless and alive.

I should've stopped. But I didn't.

Because for one night, I didn't want to be the grieving widow or the scandalous name on everyone's tongue.

I wanted to forget.

And he was the perfect sin to do it with.

It was the tender kiss of morning light that stirred me awake. My eyes blinked open to a ceiling I didn't recognize. For a second, I didn't move. My head throbbed, my throat dry, the faint taste of whiskey still on my lips.

The sheets beside me were tangled. Empty.

I sat up slowly. My dress was crumpled on the floor, my skin marked by shadows that weren't mine.

And then the memories came: the lounge, the stranger, the heat of his mouth on mine, the way I had clung to him like he could erase every wound I'd ever buried.

"Oh God..." My voice cracked. "What did I do?"

My heart pounded. I pressed a trembling hand to my lips as if I could undo it, as if I could erase the feel of him. My body ached in places that told me I hadn't imagined any of it.

I scrambled from the bed, panic clawing at my throat. I dressed fast, barely breathing. My hands shook so hard I could hardly fasten my zip.

No one can know.

If Camille or Andrea found out, if anyone did, there'd be no saving me.

I pushed out into the hall, my pulse racing, praying no one would see me.

"Mara."

Camille's voice froze me where I stood.

She appeared at the end of the corridor, perfectly composed, her expression unreadable. "Where were you all night?"

My breath caught. "I-I"

"I told you we had a special guest to meet yesterday. Don't stir up problems. Go downstairs and wait to meet Elias, your husband's brother."

My stomach flipped. "Philip's brother?"

"The one abroad, yes," she said curtly. "Be respectful, as it's your first time seeing him. You'll make a good impression, won't you?"

I nodded mutely. "Of course."

She gave me one last sharp look before walking away.

I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my chest. The walls felt too close, the air too heavy. Get it together, Mara.

Ten minutes later, I came downstairs, washed, composed, the widow's poise stitched carefully back into place. Every step felt rehearsed. I could still feel the ache on my skin, though I tried not to show it.

Camille, Andrea, and David were already seated at the breakfast table, so I took the empty chair at the edge.

"Good morning," I murmured, avoiding David's eyes.

Camille's head turned at the sound of footsteps from the hall. "Ah. He's here."

The door opened, and a familiar face entered.

My breath caught.

No. No, it couldn't be.

The man stepped into the light, dark hair, tailored suit, calm authority radiating off him like a second skin.

And those eyes-grey, cold and familiar.

"Welcome, son," Camille said warmly, rising to embrace him. "It's been far too long."

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

It was him.

The man from last night. He looked at me, his gaze unflinching, expression unreadable. A flicker of recognition passed behind his eyes, sharp and gone in a second.

"Mara," Camille said proudly, "meet Elias Lawson, Philip's twin brother."

"Mrs. Lawson," he said, tilting his head slightly. "An honor to finally meet you."

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. My lips parted, then closed again. His tone was polite, his face composed, but I saw it-the ghost of that night reflected in his gaze.

I forced a brittle smile, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "Welcome home," I whispered.

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that hid secrets.

And I realized, with a cold chill sinking into my bones, I hadn't just slept with a stranger. I had slept with my husband's brother.

"Sit, son. Breakfast is ready."

Camille motioned toward the chair beside her just as the maids moved quickly, setting dishes on the long mahogany table; toast, eggs, tea, fruit I couldn't touch.

I sat opposite him, still unsure how to breathe in the same space with the man I had sinned with.

"Thank you," he said simply, taking the seat. His voice carried quiet authority, the kind that silenced a room without effort.

Camille smiled, pleased. "You arrived late last night. Too tired to attend Andrea's engagement party. I would have loved to see you there."

"I had other matters to attend," he replied.

Harmless words, but my stomach twisted. Other matters.

Does he remember? He sounds like he doesn't. Or maybe he just hides it well.

"By the way..." Elias turned to Andrea. "Congratulations on your big day."

Andrea tossed her hair, feeding David with an exaggerated sweetness. "Thank you. My fiancé and I appreciate it."

David's eyes darted to me, awkward, guilty. I immediately looked down at my plate.

Camille poured Elias a cup of tea. "We'll have to talk about the company today."

He nodded. "I just came from there. You don't have to worry about it."

My fork slipped from my hand, clattering softly. Camille didn't notice.

Elias did. His gaze flicked toward me, too fast, like he had been watching me without looking at me.

When he spoke again, his voice was steady, almost casual. "Mara will be joining me at the company."

I froze. "Excuse me?"

He didn't even glance my way this time. "You'll be my co-CEO. You'll work with me."

Camille lifted her head, surprised. "That's sudden, isn't it? She's still...."

"She's Philip's wife," he said evenly. "Her presence stabilizes the board."

My chest tightened. "I never agreed to..."

"It isn't a request," he cut in. His tone was smooth, unraised, but final. "You start next week. I'll have your schedule sent to you."

My mouth went dry. "You can't just decide that"

"I can," he said softly. "And I have."

Silence swept across the table.

Camille sighed, folding her napkin. "He's right, dear. It's... what Philip would have wanted. For appearances, if nothing else."

Appearances.

That's all I'd ever been to this family. A ring. A headline. A placeholder.

Elias stood and pushed his chair back. "We're done here."

He left without a glance.

Andrea didn't wait a second after Elias left.

"Why are you acting like you don't want that position, Mara?" she snapped.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.

She only sighed, annoyed, and walked away.

Camille stood next.

"Mother... please tell him I don't want that position. I don't want any of it."

She didn't even flinch.

"Remember where you are, Mara. You don't get to call me 'mother' here."

Then she left too.

I pushed my plate away. The food suddenly tasted like ash.

Halfway out the door, David's voice caught me.

"Is that how they've been treating you?"

I didn't look back. I kept walking.

I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing.

What kind of man was Elias Lawson?

How foolish of me to think he was nicer than Philip.

I groaned into my palms. I already hate him.

My phone rang-Clara.

"Baby girl," she burst out, "before you vanish again, I'm reminding you, your appointment is exactly one week from now. Don't stand me up. I will disown you."

A tiny laugh escaped me. "I won't."

"You'd better not. You've been skipping too many follow-ups."

"I know... I'll come. I promise."

A week later, I kept that promise.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and cold air. I headed straight to Clara's office. She stood at the end of the hallway with a file in hand, one eyebrow raised.

"Mara Lawson," she said with mock sternness. "Look who finally decided not to run from her own body."

I rolled my eyes and hugged her. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, under emotional blackmail." She pulled back, studying my face. "You look tired again."

"I live in a house full of people who want me gone. Tired is my brand now."

She looped her arm through mine. "And I heard about David's engagement. I swear he's doing that out of spite."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Fine. Let's check you before you faint on my floor. I just cleaned it."

I laughed softly and followed her inside. She shut the door and dropped the serious-doctor act.

"Okay," she said, flipping my file open. "First, your test results."

My pulse picked up. "Good or bad?"

"Both," she admitted. "You're healing, but slowly. Hormones still adjusting. Your uterus is still sensitive. You have internal inflammation."

My breath caught. "So I'm not okay."

"You're healing," she corrected. "But you're not Superwoman. No stress. No lifting. And Mara no sexual activity. None."

I groaned. "You sound like my mother."

"I sound like someone who doesn't want you bleeding on my table."

I tried to joke, but guilt pressed against my chest. Clara saw it instantly.

"What aren't you telling me?"

I looked away.

"Oh no," she said. "Start talking."

My fingers twisted. "Clara... something happened."

"When?"

"Where?"

"Why do you look guilty?" She piled questions like bullets.

I swallowed. "I slept with someone."

She blinked. "Okay. It happens. But who?"

I whispered, "At the engagement party."

Her jaw dropped. "Mara! Don't tell me it was David".

"No," I cut in. "I wouldn't let that happen. It was... someone else."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who?"

I hesitated. "It turns out... he's Philip's brother."

She froze completely.

"Mara. No. No, you didn't."

"I was drunk. I swear, I wasn't in my right mind."

"And your body wasn't healed!" she nearly shrieked. "Do you have a death wish?"

"I didn't know," I whispered. "Clara, I wasn't thinking."

Then her voice softened, serious.

"Mara. No one can ever know. Not Andrea. Not Camille. Not David. No one in that house."

"I know."

"I mean it." Her voice trembled. "For your safety, your peace, your reputation, stay away from him. Whatever happened that night, it ends there."

A lump formed in my throat. "Am I... a bad person?"

She squeezed my hand. "No you were lonely, hurting, and fate screwed you over. But now you have to protect yourself."

She exhaled softly, her tone shifting. "And you need to keep it a secret, Mara. Completely. Just like no one knows you're even here today."

I frowned, and she caught it immediately, her eyes softening.

"I know what you're thinking," she added. "And I'll say it again, it wasn't your fault that you lost Philip's baby. Your pregnancy was dangerous from the start. One day you'll explain it to them, but for now... let them believe it was a miscarriage. You don't owe anyone your pain, Mara. You've been through enough."

My throat tightened. "What would I do without you, Clara? I love you so much. God really blessed me with a best friend and a doctor in one."

She squeezed my hands gently. "I'm here anytime. Always."

When I returned to the mansion, it was late.

My stomach growled, so I slipped into the kitchen for a fruit.

The room was quiet. I sliced an apple, leaning against the counter, the dull ache in my abdomen pulsing.

I turned to grab a cup

and froze.

David stood at the doorway, hands in his pockets.

"I didn't know you were back."

How does he know I left?

"I live here," I said, avoiding his eyes.

He nodded, glancing around. "You look... tired."

"I could say the same."

The silence stretched-awkward, heavy. It's our first real conversation since the breakup.

"I heard about Philip," he said finally. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," I whispered.

He took a small step forward. "I wanted to reach out sooner. But... it didn't feel right."

"No. It wouldn't have."

He watched me with a softened expression-familiar, almost kind.

"You deserve better than this place, Mara."

Our eyes met, and for a moment, something in his eyes softened. Familiar. Painful. Almost kind.

"Baby, I'm back. I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Andrea's voice shattered the moment as she strode into the kitchen.

David stepped back immediately, clearing his throat. "Oh... yeah."

"Yes," Andrea said, holding his arms before meeting my gaze "If you're hungry, baby, I can call the maids to prepare something for you."

I had no interest in whatever performance she was starting.

I simply walked out.

The next morning, I got ready for my first day at the company.

Elias was already in the car when I came out. I entered without a word.

The drive was painfully quiet. Elias didn't speak, not even once. I kept my gaze glued to the window, pretending I was comfortable with sharing the same space with him.

When we reached the company, he walked ahead, giving me no chance to slow down or look around. Straight into the boardroom.

Everyone stood immediately. A chorus of greetings followed. Elias took the CEO's seat at the center, and I sat on his right.

"I want to introduce Mara Lawson," he said firmly. "She'll be working alongside me here."

I noticed eyes shifting, some nodding politely, others whispering. I looked around until my gaze fell on her.

Purple dress. Sleek hair. Red lipstick too bold.

I recognized that face.

The face that kissed my husband.

Her smile was thin. Mocking.

I looked away before my anger swallowed the room.

The meeting dragged on which I didn't pay attention to. All I could think about was her, sitting there so comfortably, as if she hadn't played a role in destroying my marriage.

When it ended, Elias and I headed to the office. Our office suite was bright, modern, separated only by a glass wall.

Do I really have to share a space with him? How am I supposed to stay away like Clara warned me to?

He unscrewed a bottle of water, took a slow drink, and I stayed standing, waiting for whatever judgment he planned to deliver.

"This company is bleeding," he said finally. "I don't expect you to understand the details, but you'll do as you're told. Don't meddle. Don't interfere. And most importantly, don't embarrass the Lawson name."

I stared at him.

"So you've already decided I'm incapable of anything but destruction?"

His eyes met mine, sharp and cold. "Aren't you?"

The words stung. "You must really dislike me. Why so much hatred for someone you barely know?"

"Because my brother is dead," he raised his voice "and I don't know what part you played in it."

I froze.

What?

Does he...

Does he think I killed Philip?

"You're wrong," I forced out. "Even though I still can't remember everything from that day... one thing I know is that I loved Philip. I did not kill him."

He scoffed.

"You had enough reasons to end his life. And I regret..."

He stopped. Something shifted in his expression. Confusion? Annoyance? Maybe both. He dragged a hand through his hair and stepped closer, invading my space until I could feel the heat of him.

"Miss Lawson, what happened between us that night," he said, voice low "was a mistake. It will never happen again."

He won't win in humiliating me like this.

"What exactly happened that I supposedly can't remember?" I asked, steady and composed even though I was lying through my teeth. "Because from where I'm standing, you're the one who dragged me into this company. Now you're acting like I begged for it."

His eyes flickered in confusion. "You don't remember? Stop playing games with me."

I only stared back.

He stepped away slightly, still studying me like something wasn't adding up.

"Richard will brief you on your duties," he said finally. "You'll oversee Public Relations. You can leave."

I walked into my office and sat down, trying to steady my shaking hands.

His words replayed in my head, cutting deeper each time. My gaze fell on the iron nameplate engraved with my name.

If he suspects me...

Then why give me this position?

To watch me?

Either way, I wasn't going to let him break me.

The least I could do was prove myself.

I stood up and headed to the PR department.

Phones rang, laptops clicked, voices overlapped. They greeted me warmly, and for a moment, I admired how driven everyone looked, until my eyes landed on her.

She approached like she owned the entire floor. "Mara Lawson," she said, stopping in front of me. "We've already been informed that you'll be leading us."

"Yes," I replied calmly. "And I expect professionalism. We're here to work."

She smirked. "We've run this department for years. It isn't as simple as showing up. I doubt Philip would think you capable of handling this if he were alive. By the way, it's Vivian"

Her casual tone toward Philip made my stomach twist.

I tilted my head, matching her tone.

"If Philip trusted you so much, Vivian, the department wouldn't be in the state I found it today. Don't project your insecurities on me."

Her eyes widened-offended, furious-and I walked away before she could speak.

By evening, I finally arrived home, exhausted and emotionally drained. After freshening up, a knock came on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Margaret entered, carrying a tray. "Mrs. Lawson... I brought dinner for you."

"I didn't order anything," I said, stepping forward, then a sharp pain shot through my stomach.

She rushed to me. "Should I call someone? Are you okay Ma?"

"No. I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just... leave it there."

She hesitated, concern etched on her face, but obeyed.

I tried eating, but the pain wouldn't let me. Eventually, I lay down, letting sleep drag me under.

"Why... Did you think I wouldn't know?"

The voice dragged me out of sleep and into the nightmare I'd been running from.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in Philip's study, the same room he died in. The same dream again. The same haunting replay... but this time, it didn't stop where it usually did. It went further.

Across the room, I saw me.

My other self-drunk, angry, shattered.

Philip stepped toward her, his voice breaking. "Mara... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out this way."

I leaned forward, desperate to hear more, but the sound blurred, like the dream was muting the truth on purpose. My other self stumbled back, face twisted with hurt. Philip reached for her.

And she pushed him.

Hard.

His head slammed against the edge of the table with a sickening thud.

I jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat.

The dream was different this time. Sharper. More violent.

Did I kill him?

Did I really push Philip that night?

Could I have ended his life without remembering?

Maybe that's why everything is blank.

Maybe my mind is hiding something I'm not ready to face.