My Fiancée's Best Friend is Having My Twins

The wedding is going to be so exhausting for you. How about we let Caleb stand in as the groom?

My fiance stared at me, her eyes swimming with a sickening, fake sympathy.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and gave her cheek a gentle, loving pinch. You're so thoughtful, babe.

Then, I pulled out the sonogram and slammed it onto the table right in front of her.

"Since we're being so considerate, I made a decision of my own. Childbirth is brutal. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, so I had your best friend get pregnant for you."

The smile instantly froze on her face. Her eyes locked dead onto the medical report.

The fetus was perfectly healthy. Over two months along.

"How is this possible? When the hell did you two hook up?!"

Blood rushed into her eyes.

She lunged forward, a raw sound tearing out of her throat.

Right on cue, my phone buzzed. Maeve's name flashed on the screen.

"Maeve says she's craving something sour. I need to go be with her." I snatched my jacket and yanked the front door open.

"Ronan, you absolute bastard! Get back here!"

A gut-wrenching scream tore through the apartment behind me.

Chapter 1

I transmigrated into a book. The plot was a trash firea melodramatic novel titled To Fulfill a Promise to Her First Love, My Wife Made Him Stand In as the Groom at Our Wedding.

The storyline was a massive clich. Vivienne's first love, Caleb, dumped her for a sugar mama. Vivienne hit rock bottom, but with the male lead'smyconstant care and comfort, she slowly pulled herself back together, and her family's business skyrocketed. Naturally, she started falling for the guy who picked up the pieces, and they got together.

Fast forward three years. Caleb got kicked to the curb by that old woman. He didn't score a single dimejust a mountain of debt and a nasty STD. After three years of being played for a fool, he scurried back to the States with his tail tucked between his legs.

The day he returned, Vivienne left me standing in the pouring rain to pick him up from the airport, promising she'd be right back for me. But that night, she threw a massive welcome-back blowout for her first love at an exclusive nightclub and completely forgot I even existed. I stood in that downpour all night, burning up with a fever for days afterward.

Another night, during a massive thunderstorm with lightning splitting the sky, we were tangled up in bed. Then, Caleb called. He claimed he was having a panic attack, that he was terrified and needed her to come over. Without missing a beat, Vivienne abandoned me and drove out into the storm.

The irony? I was the one terrified of thunderstorms. I spent the rest of the night curled up in the corner of the king-sized bed, eyes glued to the ceiling until dawn.

The final straw that made the original me pack up and leave? A childhood pact between Vivienne and Caleb. They had promised that, regardless of who they ended up with, they would hold a wedding ceremony together once they were adults. When she finally came home from that farce of a wedding, I was already gone.

Then came the classic "groveling wife chases her runaway husband" arc. As the great Shakespeare definitely never said: "Belated love is cheaper than fucking dirt."

The result? The original me ended up dead inside, never marrying. Vivienne lost her mind to regret.

And Caleb? He got off scot-free. A complete tragedy.

But since I'm steering the wheel now, we're flipping the script to a happy endingfor me, at least.

To be completely honest, waking up in this body wasn't half bad. My family owned a massive corporation, and my girlfriend came from similar old money. Not to mention, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

Whatever happened in the future, the current setup was a sweet ride. Besides being an irredeemable doormat when it came to love and getting a raw deal in the end, my face, my physique, and my bank account balance were top-tier.

And that doormat flaw? Yeah, I could fix that. I was here to enjoy the billionaire perks. Let some other sucker choke on the bitter pill of unrequited love; I wasn't swallowing a damn drop.

When I first dropped into this timeline, Vivienne and I were still in the honeymoon phase. I spent over a year comfortably living with her, soaking in the high life.

That brings us to right now. Caleb, Vivienne's precious first love, had just slithered back into the country. Today, Vivienne made plans to grab afternoon tea at the country club with her girls. The chauffeur was driving the three of usme, Vivienne, and her bestie, Maeve.

The second we pulled out of the driveway, the sky ripped open, dumping sheets of rain against the windshield. Right then, Vivienne's phone buzzed.

Chapter 2

Vivienne's body visibly tensed. She frantically dug her phone out of her designer bag and answered it in a split second. She lowered her voice, her knuckles whitening around the phone case. "Hello?"

I didn't know what the person on the other end said, but her eyes instantly lit up. A girlish, giddy thrill washed over her face. Her lips curled upward, completely out of her control, and her voice spiked into sickening sweetness.

"Really? You're here? I know, I know, it's impossible to get an Uber in this rain."

"Don't move. Stay right where you are. I'm coming to get you right now!"

She hung up and whipped her head toward me. Guilt was written all over her face. Her eyes darted everywhere, refusing to meet mine.

"Ronan, um something urgent just came up at the office. The company's CEO called an impromptu emergency board meeting. I need to go handle it immediately."

"Look how hard it's raining, and there just isn't enough room in the car for all of us. How about you get out first? I'll come right back to pick you up as soon as I'm done. Okay?"

PfftI was mid-sip of my Fiji water and couldn't hold it in.

I spat it right in her face.

Wow. Just, fucking wow. How the hell did the original owner of this body buy into her bald-faced lies for over a year?

Her phone conversation had absolutely nothing to do with a damn board meeting. And not enough room? Was this stretch limo made of paper? We could fit three more people back here with room to spare.

"Vivienne!" Before I could even wipe my mouth, Maeve beat me to the punch. She glared at her best friend, her voice dripping with obvious disapproval.

"It's pouring buckets out there. How can you ask Ronan to get out? What if he gets sick? Besides, what kind of corporate secret is so classified that he can't even tag along?"

Vivienne frantically reached over and pinched Maeve's bare thigh, winking and shooting her desperate warning glares. She moved in rigid, frantic jerks, somehow convinced I couldn't see the panic bleeding through. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.

"C-Corporate secrets! It's business, Ronan wouldn't understand. Plus, we have to swing by and pick up an important client. There really isn't enough room."

I bit back a scoff, letting her drown in her own poorly constructed lies. "Sure, no problem. You guys go have fun I mean, go handle your business."

"Just take a right past this street, go straight for about half a mile, and drop me off."

I mentally sneered. Let's see who plays harder tonight.

The limo pulled to a smooth stop. Vivienne glanced out the tinted window, her eyes widening. "Black Gold VIP Nightclub? Ronan, what are you doing here?"

"Dodging the rain! Anyway, drive safe." I slammed the car door shut and jogged straight into the glowing neon entrance of the club.

Inside the limo, the chauffeur's voice broke the silence. "Ms. Lin, are we heading to the office now?"

Vivienne snapped out of her daze, her eyes still locked on the nightclub's grand entrance. "To to the airport," she muttered absentmindedly.

As the car pulled away, her brow furrowed in a tight knot. She gripped the leather armrest, her knuckles turning white, and murmured under her breath, "Since when does Ronan go to places like that? I never allowed him near those venues."

"If he ever went, I had to be right there with him. The strippers and escorts in there are absolutely"

"Earth to Vivienne" Maeve tapped her sharply on the shoulder. "What are you staring at? You look completely zoned out."

"N-Nothing," Vivienne stammered, shaking her head. "Just go ahead and book a nice restaurant. Once we pick Caleb up, we'll head straight there for his welcome back party."

"Got it. How about that three-Michelin-star French restaurant we always go to?"

"Y-Yeah sounds perfect."

Chapter 3

I pushed through the heavy doors of the Black Gold VIP Nightclub. The deafening bass of the EDM track and the blinding strobe lights instantly swallowed me whole, wiping out the damp chill of the storm outside.

The original owner of this body was such a whipped doormat under Vivienne's control that he wouldn't even know which way the entrance faced. His pathetic memories made this place feel a little foreign. But that sure as hell wasn't going to stop me from tasting some hard-earned freedom.

"Good evening, sir. How many in your party?" A host in a crisp vest rushed over, beaming.

"Just me. Get me the most expensive private booth on the top floor."

"Right away, sir. Right this way."

I settled into the plush velvet seating of the penthouse booth. A waiter hurried in, setting down a massive VIP platter.

"Your VIP platter, sir. Would you like me to set up the music? What's your vibe tonight?"

"Hold off on that." I waved my hand, leaning back with absolute authority. "Send over your hottest escorts and bring out your best Ace of Spades champagne to get this party started."

The heavy bass rattled my chest in the best way possible. I sank deep into the leather sofa, tossing a grape into my mouth.

Fuck the melodramatic plot. Fuck her precious first love. I was going to live like a king.

***

Across town, Vivienne's stretch limo pulled away from the airport. Sitting across from her was Caleb. He was draped in designer brands, but the expensive fabric couldn't hide his haggard, washed-up vibe, or the calculating gleam in his eyes.

The second he got in, the performance started. His eyes glued to Vivienne like a parasite.

"Vivienne. It's been so long. You're even more beautiful."

He delivered the line with practiced, soulful longing, though a flicker of raw greed flashed across his face as he took in the limo's ultra-luxurious interior.

"Thanks. You too." Vivienne offered a stiff reply.

Her eyes kept darting to her phone screen. Her posture was rigid.

She couldn't shake the image of Ronan sprinting into that neon-lit nightclub.

The welcome party was booked in a highly exclusive, private dining room at the three-Michelin-star French restaurant. Maeve was there, along with a few other mutual friends from their old circle. Caleb soaked up the spotlight.

He played every card in his deckthe nostalgic memories, the intense eye contact, the subtle, flirty implications. A perfectly executed routine.

"Remember when we were kids?" Caleb murmured, leaning in. "Under that giant oak tree in my backyard you promised me we'd have a wedding together no matter what."

"Europe was great, but it was so damn lonely. All I could think about was your homemade roast beef. About how it felt to just be near you."

But Vivienne was completely checked out. Her mind kept dragging her back to the VIP club. Her nails dug into her palms as a sickeningly vivid image flashed in her headRonan, surrounded by half-naked women, drowning in expensive alcohol and raw indulgence.

The thought made her shift aggressively in her seat.

Her silver fork unconsciously stabbed at the Kobe beef on her plate, violently mashing the premium cut to a bloody pulp.

What the hell was Ronan doing right now? How could he walk into a place like that? Was he furious? The unanswered questions made her breath hitch, a cold knot pulling tight in her chest.

"Vivienne Vivienne!" Caleb called out for the third time. He frowned as she blankly swirled her wine glass.

This wasn't how the script was supposed to go. She was supposed to throw herself at him, drowning him in concern and affection. The woman who used to give him everything he demanded was sitting right next to him, but she looked like a ghost.

"Huh? Ohsorry, Caleb." Vivienne jerked upright, forcing a stiff, unnatural smile onto her lips. She dropped the fork, abandoning the mangled steak.

"I I really have a family emergency. It's urgent. I need to leave right now."

Chapter 4

"You guys enjoy the night. Put everything on my tab. We'll catch up later." She didn't wait for a response.

She grabbed her designer clutch from the chair, her movements frantic, like someone fleeing a fire.

Caleb's hand clamped down on her wrist. His grip was aggressively tight. "Vivienne, what's the rush?"

His voice dropped into a practiced, wounded pitch. "Is it more important than us? I've been gone for years, and you're the only person I wanted to see."

"The party just started. Can't you just stay with me a little longer?"

Vivienne yanked her arm free.

Her brows pulled into a tight, irritated knot. "Caleb, I said it's an emergency! Ronan he's still waiting for me in the pouring rain! I have to go get him."

Before he could say another word, she sprinted out of the private dining room, leaving her expensive coat draped over the back of the chair.

"Ronan" Caleb spat the name under his breath. He stared at the empty doorway, his jaw muscles twitching violently.

Just a cheap stand-in. But this stumbling block he had never taken seriously was suddenly getting in his way.

Vivienne ordered her driver to speed all the way to the VIP Nightclub, but she hit a dead end. I had already paid the tab and walked out. The penthouse booth was occupied by another crowd of partying strangers.

She rushed back to our penthouse, only to find the rooms dark and empty. I wasn't home. That had never happened before.

She collapsed onto the living room sofa. Her fingers nervously picked at the upholstery as the hours dragged on.

She paced the floor, constantly checking the driveway out the window, until absolute exhaustion dragged her down. She passed out on the cushions, still wearing her heels and a smudged face of makeup.

The next morning, I woke up in the king-sized bed of a five-star hotel's presidential suite. I took my time getting ready, ordered a premium room-service breakfast, and headed back to the penthouse with a completely clear head.

The second my key turned in the lock, Vivienne shot up from the sofa like she had been electrocuted.

Her dress was incredibly wrinkled. She rushed right up into my personal space. Her bloodshot eyes scanned me from head to toe, darting over every inch of my clothes.

She even leaned in, practically sniffing my collar, hunting for the scent of another woman.

"Ronan! Where the hell were you last night? Why didn't you come home?" Her voice was shrill, cracking with panic.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was? Your phone was off!"

I didn't flinch. I slowly pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocked it, and pulled up Maeve's Instagram story from last night. I shoved the screen right into Vivienne's face.

It was a perfectly filtered collage of their little welcome party. Caleb was sitting at the center of the table, looking incredibly smug. Vivienne was seated right next to him.

She looked a little distracted, but in the frame, they looked like a perfect, intimate couple.

"Didn't you say you had a corporate emergency?" My voice was flat, carrying no weight at all. "Was the emergency throwing a welcome-back bash for this 'important client'?"

I locked eyes with her, letting the silence stretch out. "It seems this client carries a lot of weight. Important enough for you to abandon your fianc in a torrential downpour all night."

My gaze was ice-cold, pressing down on her like a physical weight.

Chapter 5

Vivienne's face drained of all color. Her lips trembled as she tripped over her own words, desperate to construct a solid excuse. "Ronan, listen to me, it's not what you think."

"Caleb he just got back. He doesn't know the area anymore, and it was pouring. He couldn't get a ride."

"I swear I was going to come find you right after I dropped him off, but the others kept pushing for a welcome back party. I couldn't get away."

"I went to the VIP club looking for you later, I really did, but you were gone"

Her voice wavered. Even she sounded like she didn't believe her own bullshit.

I waved her off. I had zero interest in listening to her pathetic script. I grabbed my keys and headed straight to the office.

For the next few days, Vivienne practically walked on eggshells around the penthouse. She came home on time, every movement careful and laced with desperate people-pleasing as she tried to patch up her massive screw-up.

She even tried grilling steak and making salads for me every night. This was a woman who had never stepped foot in a kitchen before, and it showed. The steaks she plated were as hard as shoe soles.

Unfortunately, the trash-fire plot of this world wasn't going to let her go that easily. Caleb launched a relentless offensive. His name was constantly flashing on her phone screenhe was depressed and needed company, he hit a snag and needed help, or he just wanted her at another loud party.

Under his non-stop manipulation, her fragile guilt evaporated. Soon enough, she was coming home late again, hiding behind pathetic excuses about "mandatory networking" or "Maeve needing emotional support."

And me? I sure as hell wasn't sitting around waiting for her. She went out to party with her circle, and I hit the private golf club to close business deals.

We played our own games, totally hands-off. It was the perfect arrangement. Better yet, Maeve and I were getting dangerously close.

Every time she had to cover for Vivienne's lies, our text threads got a little longer and a lot more interesting.

A week later, a massive storm slammed into the city. Gale-force winds rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. Lightning tore across the sky, followed by deafening thunderclaps and sheets of heavy rain.

Right on cue, Caleb's customized ringtone pierced the dark room. We had just finished a sweaty round in bed and were drifting off to sleep. Vivienne shot me a guilty glance before answering the call.

"Vivienne, the thunder is shaking the whole house," Caleb's voice whined through the speaker. "I'm terrified. I'm all alone in this huge, empty place."

"You know how bad my panic attacks get in this weather. Can you can you please come over and stay with me?"

Vivienne gripped her phone. A flash of internal struggle crossed her features. She looked at me hesitantly, silently begging for my permission.

I kept my face blank, offering nothing. I wasn't going to give her a free pass to go, but I sure as hell wasn't going to stop her if she chose to walk out that door.

"Ronan, Caleb says he's having a panic attack alone at his place. Should I"

"You don't need to ask me. Make your own choice."

She froze, clearly thrown off by my utter lack of reaction.

"Ronan, I'm just going to check on him. I I'll be right back. Wait for me."

She scrambled out of bed, shoving her bare legs into her clothes.

She grabbed an umbrella and rushed out the front door, disappearing into the raging thunderstorm without a second thought.

The second the heavy door clicked shut, the fake indifference melted off my face.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, scrolled to Maeve's contact, and hit dial. She picked up almost instantly.

I cleared my throat, dropping my voice into a low, smooth pitch. "Hey, Maeve. The thunder is going crazy out there, and I'm all alone. Mind coming over to keep me company?"

A two-second pause hung on the line. Then, Maeve's crisp, breathless voice came through.

There was a distinct, thrilling edge of anticipation in her tone. "On my way. Wait for me."

No stupid questions. No fake politeness.

"Perfect." I tossed the phone onto the mattress, a sharp smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth.

Chapter 6

Maeve arrived even faster than I expected. Her hair and the shoulders of her jacket were damp. She had definitely rushed over in the downpour.

A gust of cool, rain-soaked air swept in with her.

The second she stepped inside, a massive thunderclap exploded right above the penthouse.

The loud crack violently rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the overhead lights flickered in the dark.

I seized the moment. I faked a violent flinch, let out a breathless gasp, and dove straight into her arms.

She smelled like rain and expensive perfume. I wrapped my arms tightly around her waistit was slender but surprisingly tonedand buried my face against her chest.

I kept my voice muffled, playing the part of a terrified victim perfectly. "God, that was terrifying. I hate thunderstorms."

I nuzzled closer, intentionally brushing against her curves. Not bad at all. Her waist was tight, and the physical contact sent a sharp jolt of heat through the cold air.

Maeve's body instantly went rigid. She clearly hadn't expected me to be this aggressive. But a second later, she melted into the touch.

She slid one arm around my back and began rhythmically stroking my shoulders, like she was calming down a spooked stray.

A soft, breathless laugh slipped past her lips. "Hey, it's okay. I'm right here."

I kept my grip firmly on her waist, smoothly backing her toward the master bedroom. "It's way too loud out here in the living room. Let's go inside. It's warmer, and the soundproofing is better"

We dropped onto the edge of the king-sized mattress. At first, we just traded quiet whispers in the dark. We talked about the storm, threw around some fake tragic backstory about my childhood fear of thunder, and ripped into certain people's absolute blindness.

But with every word, the gap between us shrank. Soon, I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. I could hear the uneven hitch of her breathing.

The tension in the room thickened, heavy and electric. Outside, the deafening thunder and the violent crash of the rain turned into the perfect, adrenaline-pumping soundtrack.

Her manicured nails dug fiercely into my back.

Masked by the roaring thunder, we unleashed a year's worth of pent-up frustration and raw madness. The heavy mattress shook violently against the storm.

Sweat and harsh, breathless gasps tangled together in the dark until the first light of dawn cracked through the curtains.

I woke up the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed. The space next to me was empty. The only evidence she had been there was the tangled, messy sheets and the faint, expensive scent of Chanel perfume lingering in the air.

It was almost noon when Vivienne finally dragged herself through the front door. She looked completely exhausted, with heavy dark circles bruising the skin under her eyes.

She spotted me lounging on the leather sofa, casually flipping through a business magazine. Her eyes immediately darted away. She forced out an excuse, her voice raspy from exhaustion.

"Ronan, the rain was just too heavy last night. It was impossible to drive. And Caleb his panic attack kept him up all night."

"A few of us stayed in the living room to keep him company so he wouldn't be alone." Her eyes tracked my every movement, searching my face for any crack.

I scrolled through a fresh text from Maevea flirty, teasing messageand let a genuine smirk pull at the corner of my mouth. I didn't even bother looking up. I just offered a flat, dismissive grunt of acknowledgment.

Vivienne froze. Her jaw worked soundlessly as if a massive, prepared speech had just choked her. She took a hesitant step closer, her voice vibrating with disbelief and a rising, sharp edge of anger.

"I just told you I spent the entire night at another man's house, and that's it? That's your only reaction?"

This obviously wasn't the explosive argument or desperate, jealous pleading she had braced herself for. My dead silence hit her harder than any insult. Her fingers clamped down hard on the strap of her designer bag, her knuckles turning bone-white.

Chapter 7

I finally looked up from my phone, pinning her with a flat, cold gaze. "What exactly were you expecting, Vivienne? A screaming match? A dramatic ultimatum?"

"Should I have thrown a tantrum or locked the doors so you couldn't leave?"

"You should at least be angry!" she snapped, her voice hitting a frantic, high-pitched note. "You should be demanding answers! Acting jealous!"

"That's how someone shows they actually give a damn about me!"

"You knew what you were doing. You knew how it looked. And you did it anyway." I shrugged, sliding my phone into my pocket.

"I'm just your boyfriend, Vivienne. I don't have that kind of clearance over your life."

I smoothed out my shirt and stood up. I had a dinner reservation with Maeve at that new seaside spot, and I wasn't about to keep a lady waiting.

I walked past her, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the living room. Her face was a mess of shock and fury, but beneath it all, I saw the first flicker of genuine fear. She was finally realizing that my silence was far more dangerous than any argument.

The deadbolt clicked into place.

***

Vivienne was panicked. Over the next few days, she went into overdrive trying to play the part of the devoted fiance. It was clumsy, forced, and honestly a little pathetic.

We spent our afternoons togetherbooking five-star ballrooms, trying on custom-made gowns, and scrolling through catalogs for high-end furniture. She hovered over every minor detail of the wedding.

She even started texting me every day, asking what I wanted for dinner. Her cooking had miraculously evolved from "charred rubber" to something that actually resembled a meal.

I played my part perfectly. I was the supportive, attentive fianc. A total Oscar-winning performance.

I knew the script by heart, and I knew this wedding was never going to happen. Caleb hadnt played his "Childhood Pact" card yet, and I was content to sit back and watch the show. Besides, she was the one swiping her black card for everything.

Whenever Caleb called with a new "crisis," I didn't stop her. I just smiled and let her go. It gave me all the room I needed for some "deep communication" with Maeve.

Maeve and I were moving at light speed. We were perfectly in syncon business, on our tastes, and especially on how much we enjoyed ripping into Vivienne and Caleb behind their backs.

Then came the night at the seaside oyster bar. We were sitting at a private table overlooking the moonlit coast. The appetizers hadn't even been served when Maeve's face suddenly went bone-white.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, let out a sharp, muffled retch, and bolted for the restroom without a word.

I watched her retreat, my heart skipping a beat. A surge of pure, electric anticipation hit my chest. Was it actually happening?

At my insistence, we skipped dessert and drove straight to an elite private OB-GYN clinic. The results were ready within the hour.

I stared at the high-definition sonogram. Two tiny, distinct speckslittle beans that were already starting to take shape. It was a strange, heavy feeling in my chest.

Twins.

I reached over and gripped Maeve's hand, lacing our fingers together. She stared blankly at the screen, her breath hitching, but I wasn't letting go.

Chapter 8