My Fake Twin Stole My Life

The day I get accepted into Westbridge University at 18 years old, my oldest sister, Claire Whitmore, secretly hides my acceptance letter. Why? Because she's finally found Ethan Whitmore, my twin brother who was separated from our family years ago. Heartbroken over everything he's supposedly suffered, Claire decides I owe him compensation and demands that I give him my place at Westbridge University. Of course I refuse. Claire slaps me across the face. "You've had everything handed to you your whole life! Is it really so much to ask you to give your brother this one thing?" Even Grace Bennett, the woman I've loved for three years, chooses Ethan over me. "I can't stand petty, selfish men. So what if you're smarter than him? Ethan has more character than you ever will." I'm devastated. Then, Ethan frames me for something I didn't do, and Claire sends me away to an isolated town in the middle of nowhere. Three years later, Ethan gets engaged to Grace, and their extravagant engagement celebration becomes the talk of the city. Only then does Claire finally remember I exist. "It's been three years. Surely you've learned how to get along with Ethan by now." She looks pleased when I lower my head obediently before her. What she doesn't know is that those three years in the countryside have destroyed my health. And I only have three days left to live. Chapter 1 Dalton's POV After the wedding that had practically brought the entire city to a standstill, my oldest sister, Claire Whitmore, drove all the way out to the miserable backwater where I'd spent the past three years. The stretch limousine had barely pulled into the village when the man in charge hurried out to greet her. Claire didn't even spare him a glance. Her cold gaze swept past him and landed on me, half-hidden at the back of the crowd. He immediately noticed where she was looking, and his already ingratiating smile grew even wider. "Don't worry, Ms. Whitmore. I've done exactly as you asked these past three years. We made sure he learned his lesson." He glanced back at me with satisfaction. "He's very well behaved now." At his signal, one of the staff members grabbed me and hauled me out from behind the others. Three years of hunger and deprivation had taken their toll. My body was a shadow of what it used to be, and there was nothing left of the proud, reckless young man I'd once been. I barely made it a few steps before my foot caught on a loose stone. I crashed to the ground. Jagged gravel scraped across my skin, leaving thin streaks of blood behind. Something flickered in Claire's eyes. She took a quick step toward me, as if she meant to help me up. But before she could reach me, I dropped to my knees. My expression was perfectly respectful, my voice empty of emotion. "Claire." She froze. "I've had three years to think about everything I did wrong. I understand now. Thank you for sending me here." For a long moment, Claire simply stared at me. Shock gave way to suspicion as her eyes traveled over my gaunt frame, almost as if she were wondering whether the brother she'd known had somehow disappeared and left an empty shell behind. I saw the doubt in her eyes and gave her a bleak smile. Before I was sent here, I'd been the pampered young heir of the Whitmore family. I'd grown up with every luxury money could buy. No one had ever dared push me around. Back then, I was arrogant, spoiled, and used to getting whatever I wanted. If anyone crossed me, I made sure they regretted it. But now? It was as though someone had beaten every last ounce of pride out of me. There was nothing left of the person I'd once been. Claire had probably never imagined she'd see the day when I would kneel at her feet. But I had a reason. Mom's death anniversary was coming up, and I hadn't visited her grave in three years. This time, no matter what humiliation I had to swallow or what they put me through, I was going to make it to her grave. Claire remained silent for a long time, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Finally, she spoke, saying, "As long as you understand what you did wrong. Now get up." I slowly rose to my feet, careful not to meet her eyes. Just then, the limousine door opened again. My younger brother, Ethan Whitmore, stepped out with a smile. He wore an impeccably tailored suit that probably cost more than everything in this village combined. Three years ago, he'd been thin and sickly, his features always pinched with discomfort. Now, his shoulders had filled out, and there was an easy confidence about him. He looked every inch the privileged Whitmore heir I'd once been. "Claire." Ethan glanced at me, his smile widening. "I guess three years out here really did work wonders. Look at that. Dalton finally learned some manners." The moment Claire saw him, the frost in her expression melted into a warm smile. "Ethan, what are you doing out here? It's freezing, and you're still not fully recovered. Get back in the car and lie down." Chapter 2 Dalton's POV I looked at Ethan's healthy complexion and almost laughed. When I'd first arrived in this miserable little town, the supervisor had still been wary of my status as a Whitmore. For a while, he hadn't dared go too far. Then, three months passed without so much as a phone call from Claire. That was all it took for him to realize no one was coming for me. After that, he stopped pretending. I was given every filthy, backbreaking job no one else wanted. Some days, I worked from dawn until I could barely stand, with hardly a break in between. Meals were just as miserable. Usually watery oatmeal, stale bread, and whatever cheap canned vegetables they had on hand were served. It didn't take long for the weight to fall off me. Eventually, a doctor warned that the prolonged malnutrition had done serious damage to my body. Even if I recovered, there was a chance I'd be dealing with the consequences for the rest of my life. Not that it mattered. I only had three days left to live anyway. When I said nothing, Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly. Then, he turned to Claire, his expression shifting into one of wounded innocence. "Dalton, are you still mad at me?" He hesitated before adding softly, "I'm sorry. I never should've asked Claire to give me your place at Westbridge." Claire's expression immediately hardened. "Don't apologize to him." She scoffed coldly. "None of this would've happened if he hadn't treated you like dirt back then." Her gaze snapped toward me. "Dalton, you refused to apologize to Ethan no matter what anyone said. After everything that's happened, are you finally ready to admit you were wrong?" A bitter smile tugged at my lips. When Ethan had first been brought back into the family, I had resented him. That much was true. I'd been furious that this brother who had appeared out of nowhere was suddenly taking Claire's attention away from me. I'd been jealous, bitter, and childish about it. But I had never actually done anything to hurt him. Back then, I'd been counting down the days until I could leave for Westbridge University, the school I'd dreamed of attending for years. Then, Claire came to me out of nowhere and told me to give up my spot to Ethan. "No! Why should I?" I had stared at her, furious and hurt. "I worked so hard for three years to get into Westbridge. I earned that acceptance!" Then, I had turned on Ethan, who was standing beside her, looking as though he might burst into tears at any moment. "You came home and took my room, my clothes, my everything—fine. But now you want my college spot too?" I was so angry that the words came spilling out before I could stop them. "Even if you took my spot, could you even keep up with the classes?" Ethan's eyes reddened. "Claire, did you hear that?" His voice trembled. "Dalton's making fun of me because I never got a proper education." He lowered his head. "But I wouldn't have fallen so far behind if I hadn't spent all those years away from the family." My stomach dropped. He'd twisted my words completely. "What are you talking about? That's not what I said…" The slap came without warning. My head snapped to the side, and I stumbled to the floor. "Enough!" Claire shouted. "Apologize to Ethan. Now!" She pulled Ethan protectively against her, making it painfully obvious whose side she was on. I pressed a hand to my burning cheek and stared up at her in disbelief. "Why should I apologize? He's lying about what I said!" Instead of listening, Claire only grew angrier. "Mom really did spoil you rotten." Her jaw tightened as she looked down at me. "I can't believe she let you grow into someone this arrogant and entitled." Then, she made her decision. "Maybe a few years away from all this privilege will finally teach you some humility." Before I could protest, Claire had her people drag me away. And that was how I'd ended up here, a forgotten little town miles from everything I'd ever known. The memories left a bitter ache in my chest. "Dalton!" Claire's sharp voice carried a clear warning. "You owe Ethan an apology that's three years overdue." I buried every trace of emotion, closed my eyes for a moment, and then lowered my head. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I was immature back then. I hope you can forgive me." Some of the frost left Claire's expression. "That's more like it. I suppose these past three years really have taught you something." She turned toward the limousine. "Get in. We're going home." I climbed into the back seat. Ethan was sitting right beside me. We were halfway to the city when he leaned closer, making sure Claire couldn't hear him. "You're even dumber than I thought," he murmured. "You actually came back." A smug smile curled across his face. "You really think there's still a place for you in the Whitmore family?" His gaze swept over my worn clothes and gaunt frame with open contempt. "Look at you, Dalton. You look like some stray they dragged in off the street." I lifted my eyes and met his with an icy stare. Chapter 3 Dalton's POV The moment Ethan saw the coldness in my eyes, he faltered. Then, his face twisted with anger. "Are you seriously glaring at me?" His eyes darted toward Claire. A second later, his expression changed, and he suddenly covered his nose. "God, Dalton! What's that smell?" Claire pulled over almost immediately and turned around. Ethan was already gagging dramatically, and the sight of him was enough to make her look at me with disgust. "Dalton, when was the last time you showered?" she snapped. "You couldn't even clean yourself up before getting in the car? Look what you're doing to Ethan!" Before I could say a word, she got out, yanked open my door, and dragged me onto the roadside. Then, she turned her attention back to Ethan. "Are you okay?" Ethan gave her a pitiful look, and Claire's expression hardened. "If you can't stand having him in here, he can walk. It's only a few hours. He has two perfectly good legs." I hit the ground hard, my knees taking most of the impact. Pain shot through me so violently that cold sweat broke across my forehead. The half-healed scrapes on my knees split open again. Gritting my teeth, I planted both hands on the ground and tried to push myself up. My arms gave out. I collapsed again. Claire never even noticed. Her back remained turned to me, her entire attention fixed on Ethan. Once she was satisfied that he was fine, she climbed back behind the wheel without looking my way again. The limousine pulled away, leaving me alone on the side of the road. I lay there for a moment before reaching for a fallen branch nearby. Using it as a makeshift cane, I struggled to my feet. Every step sent another bolt of pain through my legs. Still, I clenched my jaw and limped toward the Whitmore estate. I told myself to just endure it a little longer. I only needed to make it to Mom's grave. After that, none of this would matter anymore. By the time I reached the Whitmore residence, night had already fallen. I tried to go in through the front entrance, only to be stopped by a butler I'd never seen before. "You expect me to believe you're a Whitmore? That's a good one." He looked me up and down with open contempt. His lips curled as he took in my filthy clothes and battered appearance. "Look at you. You think someone like you belongs in this house? Get out!" I listened to his insults without so much as flinching. After the things I'd heard over the past three years, his words barely registered. I was about to tell him who I was when a voice came from behind me. It was a voice that somehow felt both strange and painfully familiar. "He isn't lying. He's a Whitmore." I froze. Slowly, almost afraid to believe what I'd heard, I turned around. And there she was. Grace Bennett, my first love and the woman I'd loved for three years and spent another three desperately trying to win over. Once, she'd casually mentioned that she loved homemade pasta. I'd barely known how to boil water at the time, but I'd spent weeks teaching myself to cook until I could make pasta the way she liked. For her, I'd even tried to change who I was. I'd swallowed my temper, learned to be patient, and known to soften my words instead of saying whatever came to mind. All because I wanted to become the kind of man she could love. I'd foolishly believed that if I tried hard enough and waited long enough, eventually she would feel something for me too. Then, Claire had me restrained and sent away. Desperate, I'd begged Grace for help. Her answer had been painfully simple. "That's between you and your family." And when she learned that I'd refused to give Ethan my spot at Westbridge University, she'd looked at me with nothing but disappointment. She'd called me selfish and petty. Then, she'd told me Ethan was twice the man I was. That was the day whatever hope I'd still been clinging to finally died. Grace looked exactly as I remembered her—calm, composed, and almost indifferent to everything around her. But when she looked at me, there was no warmth in her eyes. "What are you doing back here?" I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and kept my voice even. "My mom's death anniversary is in three days. I came back to visit her grave." That was the one thought that had kept me going. No matter how badly Claire and Ethan humiliated me, I would endure it. I had to. Before my time ran out, I wanted to see Mom one last time. "Grace? What are you doing out here?" Ethan's cheerful voice came from behind me. A moment later, he walked over with a bright smile and slipped naturally to Grace's side, hooking his arm through hers as though he'd done it a thousand times before. Grace looked up at him, and the coldness I'd seen moments ago vanished, replaced by unmistakable tenderness. Something tightened painfully in my chest. Then, Ethan seemed to notice me for the first time. "Oh, Dalton. What are you doing here?" His nose wrinkled. "Wow. Somehow, you smell even worse than you did before." Chapter 4 Dalton's POV Ethan covered his nose, making no effort to hide his disgust. Instinctively, I drew back and tried to hide the mud caked across my clothes. The gesture only seemed to delight him. "Oh, I get it now." His eyes lit up with feigned realization. "You came all this way because you knew Grace would be here, didn't you? That's why you're shamelessly hanging around here." He sounded perfectly innocent, but every word was aimed to humiliate me. I could feel Grace's eyes on me. A wave of shame swept over me, and the last scraps of pride I had left made me lower my head. That night, I was given a cramped storage room in a forgotten corner of the estate. It couldn't have been more different from the bedroom I'd had before I was sent away. Still, compared to the rundown cabin I'd lived in for the past three years, it felt almost luxurious. A familiar ache began spreading through my chest. I curled up on the narrow bed and drifted off to sleep. … The next day, I stayed in the storage room from morning until night. No one came looking for me. It was as if the family had forgotten I existed. On the third morning, I woke as the first pale light of dawn crept through the window. Today was the day. I washed up as best I could and took out an old sweater, faded from years of washing. Mom had made it for me herself. I wanted to wear it when I visited her grave. The early spring morning was bitterly cold, and the thin sweater did little to keep out the chill. I shivered as I walked, while every old injury seemed to ache at once. Three years of neglect had left my body frighteningly weak. I hadn't gone far before a metallic taste filled my mouth. Still, I forced myself to walk faster. I was running out of time. Whatever happened, I had to make it to Mom. But a moment later, my knees suddenly gave way. I pitched forward and hit the ground. The impact left me dizzy. I tried to get back on my feet, but my body simply wouldn't cooperate. As the minutes slipped by, even keeping my eyes open became difficult. A sharp pain tore through my chest with every breath. "I'm sorry, Mom," I said to myself. "In the end, I couldn't even make it to you." "Dalton, get in." A familiar voice cut through the haze. Before I could make sense of it, someone helped me off the ground and into the back seat of a car. "G-Grace?" She glanced at me, something complicated passing through her eyes. "Don't read into it. I just couldn't leave someone collapsed on the side of the road." I managed a faint, almost grateful smile. Then, I curled into myself and stopped talking, conserving what little strength I had left. When we reached the cemetery, Grace dropped me off and drove away. I'd barely managed to steady myself when a slap struck me across the face. "Dalton Whitmore, have you no shame?" Claire snapped. "Grace is Ethan's fiancee!" Ethan stood behind her, wearing an expression of perfect innocence. "She's right, Dalton. I thought you said you were over Grace." The blow made my already weakened body reel. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but another wave of agony seized my chest. I knew what it meant. I didn't have much time left. Taking several shallow breaths, I ignored them and stumbled toward Mom's grave. Nothing else mattered anymore. By the end, I could barely stay on my feet. I dragged myself the last stretch until her headstone finally came into view. "Dalton!" Claire shouted behind me. "Ethan is talking to you! Don't you dare walk away from him!" She caught up and shoved me down before I could reach the grave. I collapsed into the wet grass. A violent cough seized me, and blood splattered across the bottom of Mom's headstone. Panic surged through me. "No…" I frantically wiped at it with my sleeve, only smearing the stain farther across the stone. My vision blurred until I could barely make out the letters carved into the granite. With the last of my strength, I reached out. My trembling fingertips brushed over Mom's name. A small, peaceful smile touched my lips. "Mom, I made it," I thought. My hand slipped from the stone, and my eyes closed. When I stopped responding, Claire only grew angrier. She grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me toward her. "Dalton, I'm talking to you! Do you hear me?"