The Twin's Last Martian Wish

For five years, I played the part of the devoted wife to a billionaire who despised me. I endured his coldness, his public affair with his mistress Gisele, and every humiliation he threw my way. All of it was a performance, a long game for one single purpose.

On our fifth anniversary, the day my contract ended, I finally collected my deceased fiancé Julian's ashes. His last wish was to have them scattered on Mars, a dream only accessible to me through my marriage to his identical twin brother, Clayton.

With my mission accomplished, I asked for a divorce. But Clayton, the man who had ignored me for half a decade, refused. He laughed, then kissed me with a brutal possessiveness I' d never felt before. "You're not going anywhere," he whispered. "You're mine now."

He dragged me from our sterile penthouse, his eyes burning with a terrifying obsession. He offered me a real marriage, a child, a future I never wanted. He couldn't understand that my heart had always belonged to his dead brother.

When I finally revealed the truth-that our entire marriage was just a means to fulfill Julian's last wish-he didn't let me go. He broke. He abandoned his mistress, begged, and even kidnapped me, convinced he could force me to love him.

"You'll learn to be mine," he snarled, his sanity unraveling as he held me captive on his private jet. "We'll have children. They'll bind us together. You'll never leave me then."

But he was wrong. This wasn't the story of a woman won over by a monster's late-blooming love. This was the story of my escape, and I was finally ready to be free.

Chapter 1

Ada Mcfadden POV:

The words tasted like freedom on my tongue, even as they shattered the illusion he so carefully clung to. "I want a divorce, Clayton."

His laughter, low and dismissive, echoed in the vast, sterile living room. It was the same laugh he used when closing a multi-billion dollar deal, arrogant and utterly confident in his control. He didn't even look up from the financial reports displayed on his holographic tablet.

"Always with the dramatics, Ada," he drawled, his voice laced with the familiar edge of contempt. "What is it this time? Did Gisele post another picture? Are you feeling neglected again?"

My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. Neglected. That was a polite word for what I had endured for the past five years. It was a polite word for being invisible.

"It's our fifth anniversary, Clayton," I stated, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. "The deal is done."

He finally lifted his head, his eyes, so startlingly like Julian's, glinting with a cold amusement that Julian had never possessed. Clayton Parrish, tech mogul, billionaire, my estranged husband, and my deceased brother's identical twin.

"Five years, Ada," he corrected, a smirk playing on his lips. "And you're still here. Still playing the devoted wife. You think I don't see it?"

He rose from his armchair, his tall frame dominating the space between us. He moved with the effortless grace of a predator, his expensive suit doing little to soften his sharp edges.

"You think after all this time, I wouldn't have figured out your little game?" he scoffed, slowly circling me. "The quiet acts of service, the unwavering loyalty, the way you never complained about Gisele. It was all a performance, wasn't it?"

My breath hitched. He knew. He couldn't. This was all for Julian. It had always been for Julian.

"You wanted to show me, didn't you?" he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he stopped directly in front of me. "Show me what a good wife looked like. Show me what I was missing. But I wasn't missing anything, Ada. I had Gisele. And you? You were just... convenient."

The word hit me like a physical blow, even though I had known it to be true from day one. I had chosen to be convenient. I had sacrificed everything to be convenient.

"I need you to sign the papers, Clayton," I said, bypassing his cruel assessment entirely. My purpose was clear, unyielding.

He laughed again, louder this time. "Sign papers? After all this? Ada, you're not going anywhere." He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek. His touch felt foreign, a stark reminder of the chasm between us. "You're mine now."

He leaned in, his scent-expensive cologne and something uniquely his, something that Julian had shared, a ghost of memory-filling my senses. He kissed me, a possessive, forceful kiss that offered no tenderness. It was a kiss of ownership, a declaration.

I remained still, unresponsive. My mind drifted back to the morning, to the NASA memorial vault, to the small, custom-designed locket finally resting in my hand. Julian's ashes. Mission accomplished.

Clayton pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "See, Ada?" he murmured, a triumphant glint in his gaze. "You're still here. Still mine."

He grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the sprawling panoramic windows that overlooked the glittering city. "Let's announce it tonight. A new chapter. A real marriage. Maybe... a child?"

He squeezed my hand meaningfully, his thumb rubbing the back of my fingers. "What do you say, Ada? A little heir for the Parrish empire? A child that is truly ours?"

The thought made my stomach churn. A child with him? A child conceived and raised in this cold, transactional farce? It was an insult to everything Julian and I had ever dreamed of.

"No," I whispered, pulling my hand away. The word was soft, but it held the weight of five years of silent resistance.

His eyes narrowed, the amusement draining from his face, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "No? What do you mean, no? Are you still clinging to this ridiculous divorce fantasy?"

He gestured vaguely. "Look, I know Gisele is a lot. But she's just a distraction. You're different. You're... stable. You're quiet." He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're what I need."

"What you need and what I want are two different things, Clayton," I replied, my voice gaining strength. "I want to end this. Now."

His jaw tightened. "Don't push me, Ada. You've always been so compliant. Don't start playing games now." He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. "It won't end well for you."

A high-pitched giggle broke the tension. Gisele Levine, a vision in shimmering silk and diamonds, sashayed into the living room, her phone already poised for a selfie. "Darling, what's taking so long? Our reservation at Le Cirque is in twenty minutes!"

She glanced at me, her red-lipped smile widening into a sneer. "Oh, still here, Ada? Don't you have a dog to walk, or some graphic designs to doodle? Clayton and I have important anniversary plans."

Clayton turned, a practiced, charming smile replacing his earlier menace. "Just finishing some business, my love." He slipped an arm around Gisele's waist, pulling her close. "Ada was just reminding me about something trivial."

Gisele leaned into him, her gaze flicking back to me, triumph blazing in her eyes. "Trivial, indeed. Some people just don't know when to bow out gracefully, do they, darling?" She pressed a lingering kiss to Clayton's jaw, then turned to me, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Maybe you should find a new hobby, Ada. Something more... fulfilling."

I met her gaze, then Clayton's. My heart didn't ache. My stomach didn't clench. There was only a profound sense of finality.

"I have found one," I told Gisele, my voice clear and steady. "It's called freedom." I looked directly at Clayton. "And I'll be leaving tonight."

His eyes went cold, a dangerous glint replacing the amusement. "You think so?" he challenged, his arm still wrapped around Gisele's waist, now tightening possessively. "Try it, Ada. Just try to walk out that door."

He smirked, confident in his power. "You have nothing without me. No money, no status, no future. Where will you go? What will you do?"

My gaze dropped to the small, silver locket clutched in my hand, hidden from their view. It was warm against my skin. It was everything.

"I have everything I need," I said, my voice barely a whisper, but firm enough to carry through the opulent room. "And I'll go exactly where I'm meant to be."

With that, I turned, leaving them standing in the fading light, their tableau of infidelity the perfect backdrop for my quiet exit. I didn't look back. The five years were over.

Ada Mcfadden POV:

The chill of the night air seeped into my bones as I stood on the opulent marble balcony, the city lights a blurred kaleidoscope below. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature. Inside, I could hear their muffled laughter, Gisele's shrill voice punctuated by Clayton's deeper rumble. The sound was a familiar torment, a background score to my gilded cage.

My head throbbed, a dull ache behind my eyes. The exhaustion was bone-deep, a constant companion for five years. But tonight, it felt heavier, almost physical.

"Ada?" a voice startled me.

I turned to see Jovan Cross, Clayton's best friend and business partner, stepping onto the balcony. He looked surprisingly out of place in his perfectly tailored suit, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand. Jovan was always cynical, always observing, rarely interfering.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Concern? Or just curiosity?

I nodded, forcing a small smile. "Just getting some air."

He leaned against the railing, gazing out at the city. "The air's cleaner inside, and probably warmer. You look like you're about to collapse."

He knew me. Or, at least, he thought he did. He had been a silent witness to my quiet suffering, to Gisele's public campaigns of humiliation, to Clayton's blatant disregard.

"I'm fine," I insisted, though my teeth had started to chatter.

He sighed, taking a sip from his glass. "You know, Ada, I never understood why you put up with it. The public spectacle, Gisele's antics, Clayton's... well, Clayton."

He turned to me, his brow furrowed. "You're a remarkable woman, Ada. Talented, intelligent. You could have had anyone. Why him? Why this?"

His questions were not accusatory, merely puzzled. He, like everyone else, believed I was hopelessly in love with Clayton, a lovesick fool clinging to a billionaire who barely acknowledged my existence. He remembered the public frenzy when we announced our marriage-the media calling me a gold-digger, the whispers of a rebound bride after Julian's death.

"It was... complicated," I said, a familiar answer that satisfied no one, least of all myself.

"Complicated?" he scoffed gently. "Ada, you tolerated more than anyone I know. You even picked up morning-after pills for them once. I saw you. In the pharmacy, looking like a ghost."

A flush crept up my neck. That memory was a sharp, cold jab. I had walked through the sterile aisles, my heart a hollow drum, my hands trembling as I handed the pharmacist the prescription. It was one of the many performative acts of my five-year penance.

"You should have left him years ago," Jovan continued, his voice softer now. "You deserve better. You always did. Julian would have wanted you to be happy."

Julian. The name was a phantom limb, an ache that never truly disappeared. He was the reason. Always the reason.

"I'm leaving him now," I told Jovan, the words feeling weighty, solid.

He chuckled, a dry, disbelieving sound. "Don't tell me you're finally going to throw a tantrum. After five years of saintly patience? Ada, seriously. Don't make a scene. It's not worth it."

He shook his head, a hint of pity in his eyes. "You tried, Ada. You really did. Everyone saw how much you loved him. How you put up with everything. But some men just aren't worth it. Clayton never was."

"You still think I loved him," I said, a strange lightness in my voice. The misunderstanding was so profound, so absolute.

Jovan looked at me, perplexed. "Of course, you did. You married him, didn't you? After... after Julian. Everyone thought you were a little mad with grief, maybe trying to hold onto a part of Julian through his twin. But you stayed. You were always there, always waiting for him."

He paused, then added, "Remember the rumors? When you practically threw yourself at him after Julian's death? People said you were desperate, that you had loved Julian and then immediately turned to Clayton."

I remembered. Every scathing headline, every whispered judgment. They had called me unhinged, opportunistic.

"I accepted all of it," I confessed, my gaze fixed on the distant city lights. "Every insult, every humiliation. I let them believe I was a pathetic, lovesick fool."

Jovan frowned. "Why, Ada? What was the point?"

I took a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs, sharp and clean. "The point was Julian." I reached into the pocket of my dress, my fingers closing around the small, cool locket. "Julian's last wish was to have his ashes scattered on Mars."

Jovan stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Mars? That's... ambitious."

"NASA's memorial spaceflight program," I explained, the words flowing out, unburdening me. "It's highly classified. Only direct family members of astronauts can access it. Spouses have a five-year waiting period to be granted full clearance."

"Julian wasn't an astronaut yet," I continued, tracing the contours of the locket. "He was a candidate. And I wasn't his wife. We had planned to marry, but his accident happened before we could."

The memory was a raw wound, still fresh after five years. Julian, brilliant, kind, full of dreams, gone in a flash, a training accident that ripped him from me, from the world.

"I had no legal standing to claim his remains for the memorial flight," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "No way to fulfill his wish."

Jovan was silent, listening intently. His usual cynicism was gone, replaced by genuine shock.

"Then I found out about Clayton," I whispered. "His estranged twin brother. A direct family member. If I married him, I'd become his spouse. I'd initiate the five-year waiting period. I'd get the clearance."

"You married Clayton... for Julian?" His voice was barely audible.

I nodded, the truth a heavy, bittersweet release. "He agreed. He saw it as a way to spite his family, I think. To show them he could do whatever he wanted. He didn't care about me. He didn't care about Julian's dream. He just saw a transaction."

"And you made him believe you loved him?" Jovan asked, a strange mix of horror and awe in his tone.

"I made everyone believe it," I corrected, a faint smile touching my lips. "I played the part. The devoted, heartbroken woman who clung to the memory of her lost love by marrying his identical twin. The fool who put up with his affairs, his indifference, his public humiliations."

"For five years," Jovan breathed, shaking his head. "You endured all of that... for a wish."

"For Julian," I corrected softly. "It was his dream. Our dream. He deserved to go to Mars."

I held up the locket, the small, heavy silver gleaming in the faint light. "Today, Jovan," I said, my voice trembling with a triumph that was purely my own. "Today, five years are up. Today, I collected Julian's ashes from the NASA vault. Today, the mission is complete."

I turned to him, my eyes shining with unshed tears, but also with an unyielding resolve. "And today, I am finally free."

Jovan stared at me, dumbfounded, the glass forgotten in his hand. The truth, stripped bare of all pretense, hung heavy between us. The man he thought he knew, the quiet, docile wife, was a phantom, an elaborate performance. And now, the curtain was falling.

Ada Mcfadden POV:

Jovan's stunned silence was almost a comfort. He simply stared, the questions swirling in his eyes, but no words came out. After a long moment, he slowly nodded, a single, decisive movement. He drained his glass, placed it carefully on a nearby table, and without another word, turned and walked back inside, leaving me alone on the balcony.

The cold intensified, biting at my exposed skin. My head pounded harder, and a wave of nausea washed over me, making the city lights swim before my eyes. I leaned against the railing, gripping it tightly, trying to steady myself. The past five years had been a constant drain, physically and emotionally. The facade had been exhausting to maintain, every smile, every compliant nod, every silent tear a performance. Now, the adrenaline that had fueled my confession was wearing off, leaving me utterly depleted.

I closed my eyes, willing the dizziness to pass. I needed to see him, to get the divorce papers signed, to truly break free. But every fiber of my being screamed for rest, for escape.

The balcony door slid open again, and I heard Clayton's voice, thick with satisfaction. "Ada? Still out here? Didn't Gisele give you enough of an audience?"

I didn't turn. I couldn't. My body felt heavy, my legs weak.

He walked up beside me, his presence a suffocating weight. "So, the little mouse finally found her voice. 'I'm leaving tonight.' What a charming sentiment. Did you really think I'd let you just walk away?"

His voice was a low growl, devoid of the earlier amusement. "You signed a prenuptial agreement, Ada. You get nothing. Not a penny of my money. No inheritance. No alimony. You'll be back to your pathetic freelance graphic design career, living in some cramped apartment. Is that what freedom looks like to you?"

His words, meant to wound, merely washed over me. They were background noise, echoes of a life I was already leaving behind. His disdain for my old life, for me, had always been clear.

A tear escaped, tracing a cold path down my cheek. It was a tear of exhaustion, of release, not of hurt. But Clayton misinterpreted it.

"Ah, there it is," he scoffed, his tone softening with a sickening kind of triumph. "The tears. You're upset that I won't play your little game. You wanted me to beg, didn't you? To tell you how much I need you?" He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Sorry, Ada, I'm not that desperate."

Gathering every ounce of strength, I pushed myself upright and turned to face him. My hand, still clutching the locket, reached into the small purse I carried and pulled out a neatly folded document. The divorce papers. I held them out to him.

"Sign them, Clayton," I said, my voice surprisingly firm, despite the tremor in my hands. "It's over. You can have Gisele. You can have anyone you want. But you can't have me."

He stared at the papers, then at my face, a flicker of genuine bewilderment in his eyes before it hardened into scorn. "Is this a joke? Some kind of elaborate test?" He snatched the papers from my hand, his gaze sweeping over the clauses. "No assets, no alimony. Just a clean break. What's the catch, Ada?"

He crumpled the papers slightly in his hand. "You think I'll believe this? That after five years of being the perfect, silent wife, you suddenly want nothing? You're playing a dangerous game, Ada. A very dangerous game." He tossed the papers onto a nearby chaise lounge with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Don't flatter yourself," a silky voice drawled from behind him. Gisele, now armed with a glass of champagne, glided onto the balcony. "She's not playing a game, darling. She's just being pathetic. She probably thinks this will make you chase her. All that 'hard to get' nonsense."

Gisele smirked, taking a long sip of champagne. "Look at her, Clayton. She's practically begging for your attention. She thinks she can compete with me. After everything." She gestured derisively at my simple dress, then at her own sparkling attire. "Some people just don't know their place."

I ignored Gisele, my gaze fixed on Clayton. My head was swimming, my vision blurring. But I had to finish this.

"Sign the papers, Clayton," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, but laced with an unyielding steel. "Let's end this charade."

His eyes blazed with a sudden, furious anger. The amusement was gone, replaced by a raw, naked rage. His hand shot out, grabbing my arm with brutal force. "Charade? You call this five years a charade?" he snarled, his grip tightening painfully.

He dragged me towards the large glass doors leading back into the penthouse, his movements jerky and aggressive. "You want to play games, Ada? Fine. Let's play."

He threw open the doors, pulling me into a dimly lit hallway. "Gisele, wait for me in the car," he commanded, his voice sharp.

"But darling, our reservation-" Gisele began, her voice shrill with protest.

"Now!" Clayton bellowed, his eyes flashing with a possessive fury I had rarely seen directed at me.

Gisele, startled, hesitated for a moment, then scurried away, her high heels clicking rapidly down the hall.

Clayton slammed the door shut behind us, plunging the hallway into near darkness. He shoved me against the wall, his body pressing close, trapping me. His breath was hot against my ear.

"You want to leave me, Ada?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You think you can just walk away? After five years of being my wife? My property?"

He moved his mouth to my neck, his lips grazing my skin. "Don't you know how this works? You don't leave me. I decide when it's over."

His hand found my jaw, tilting my head back. His kiss was rough, demanding, tasting of anger and desperation. I struggled, pushing against his chest, but my strength was failing. The nausea churned, the headache intensified, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin.

"You want a child, Ada?" he muttered, pulling back slightly, his eyes burning with a dark intensity. "You want to be a mother? We can start tonight. A real family. Our child. Then you won't want to leave."

The words were a grotesque parody of a promise, a twisted manipulation. I whimpered, a sound of pure misery, as fresh tears streamed down my face. My body was on the verge of collapse.

"Clayton, darling!" Gisele's voice, muffled but insistent, pierced the door. "The car's waiting! What are you doing in there?"

He ignored her, his grip on me unrelenting. "Regrets, Ada?" he murmured, pressing his lips to my tear-stained cheek. "Do you regret any of it?"

Just then, the door burst open. Jovan stood framed in the doorway, his face grim. "Clayton! What the hell are you doing? Gisele's threatening to call the tabloids. She's furious."

Clayton hesitated, his eyes still locked on mine. The mention of tabloids, of public scandal, seemed to break through his rage. He glared at Jovan, then back at me.

"This isn't over, Ada," he hissed, releasing me abruptly. He pushed past Jovan, leaving me slumped against the wall, gasping for air.

Jovan rushed to my side, his hand on my shoulder. "Ada, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I nodded mutely, still struggling to catch my breath. My head spun.

"He's unbearable," Jovan muttered, watching Clayton stalk away. He looked at me, his gaze softening. "Do you hate him?"

I shook my head, my hand flying to the locket hidden beneath my dress. It was still there, warm and solid. My purpose. My promise.

"No," I whispered, my voice raw. "I don't hate him. I feel nothing."