The Twins She Kept

Prologue

Seven years ago

Avery

“Ugh. You know my cousin? The one who still calls me Vicky, despite multiple cease and desists?” Victoria asks between rushed bites of Uni Toast.

I blink, scanning my memory. “The twelve-year-old?”

“Yes, her.” Victoria pulls a face so juvenile, it’s almost comical against the sophistication of her cocktail dress and updo. “Apparently, she’s experiencing her first womanly emergency and has requested my assistance.”

I bite back a laugh, almost spewing champagne out of my nose. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because I’m abandoning you. Hence my shoveling of these gastronomic gems.”

My amusement evaporates. “Wait, what?”

Victoria grins far too wide, already stepping backward. “Ah, you’ll survive just fine without me.”

“Vic—”

“Oh, look at that, I leave you in excellent company.” She nods pointedly over my left shoulder, and I know before I even turn, who’s there.

Marcus.

Victoria’s older brother. Heir to the Greyson legacy. The one man everyone in this room is desperate to impress.

The one I’ve known for years—but never really known at all.

I steal a glance, heart stupidly stuttering at the sight of him.

Tall. Custom tailored suit. Dark hair. Intense grey eyes.

Looking directly at me as he walks over.

My breathing stops as I slowly turn my head back to look at Vic, a panicked expression on my face.

“At least pretend to enjoy yourself, Marcus,” Victoria volleys at him as she backs away. “Aves, help him appear human for five minutes.”

This time I legit choke on my champagne and start coughing violently.

“Charming as ever, Vic,” Marcus calls after her while putting his hand on my shoulder. “You alright over here?”

“I will be,” I manage between coughs. “I just need some air.”

I move toward the French doors leading out to the covered patio and pool.

I notice Marcus following behind me.

I’m not supposed to be here.

Not just at this party, surrounded by New York’s most elite power players, but in this world at all.

An orphan from Brooklyn. A scholarship to a prep school where I never belonged. A best friend whose family exists in the stratosphere. Just pure luck that I’m along for the ride.

The Greysons? They never made me feel like a charity case. They simply took me in as an unofficial daughter, inviting me to every family event since Vic and I met seven years ago.

Victoria’s mom, Elaine, acts as if I’ve been sent from the heavens to keep Victoria from spoiling parties with her cringe-inducing small-talk topics—environmental disasters, political corruption, the systematic failure of the American education system.

As I walk in and look around to take it all in, some heads turn, expecting someone of my skin color to be wearing a maid’s uniform. But Elaine spots me and rushes over for air kisses and an enthusiastic hand-squeeze.

“Happy anniversary, Mrs Greyson. You’ve really outdone yourself this time!” I gesture to the string quartet, the temporary stage flanked by more flowers than I’ve ever seen in one place.

There are also two full cocktail bars on either side of the expansive room and at least ten servers in red-jackets passing trays of champagne and various amuse-bouche.

“Oh Avery, I’m so glad you could make it! And you’re just in time, Victoria is edging closer and closer to the prime minister of Malta and I just know she’s going to say something… inappropriate, to say the least.”

“I’ll handle her, Mrs Greyson, you just enjoy yourself. This is your night.”

Victoria, on the other side of the room, in her muted teal strapless dress made of Dupioni Silk, spots me and is making direct eye contact as she methodically side-steps toward a demure man impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit that I assume is the Maltese PM.

I reach her just in time to stop her from tapping him on the shoulder, and pull her to the bar where I take a glass of champagne.

“Aves, thank God you’re here. I was about to offer myself to the King of Montenegro or something,” she gushes, giving me an exaggerated wink.

“Alright, slugger, are you going to come quietly? Or are you dead-set on ruining your parents’ anniversary party?”

Victoria sighs dramatically beside me, swirling her red wine like a villainess in exile. “This is just such a waste of an evening. You and I could be out with people our own age.”

“You’re just mad your mom made you promise not to bring up income inequality.”

“Well, it’s not my fault these are the people that need to hear it.”

“Think of your parents. Besides, the food looks better than anything we’d get in the city.”

“They’re the ones that forced me to come. And yes, the Uni Toast and the Peking Duck Rolls are to die for.”

“Keep in mind, I was also forced to come. By you.”

Victoria waves a dismissive hand. “Irrelevant, darling. Now, let’s go find us some mischief.” She grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor.

Once outside, I swallow, having gained control of my breathing once again. I try to keep my voice level.

“You don’t have to stay on my account.”

Marcus flicks his gaze around, assessing. I can see it in the way his posture tenses, the way his jaw shifts slightly. He’s going to walk away.

Except he doesn’t.

“Victoria abandoned you.”

“A pity chat, Greyson? Don’t you have deals to strike, or a future wife waiting to meet you in there?”

His lips twitch. In annoyance or amusement, I’m not entirely sure. “Would you rather be alone?”

No, I don’t think I would.

Especially not with Marcus standing here. Sleeves unbuttoned and pushed up just enough to show his sinewy forearms, tie loosened indicating he’s already tired of this evening, and his light gray eyes locked onto mine like he can see through me.

My heart pounds in my chest as I shake my head ‘no.’

I tell myself it’s my recent coughing fit making me exhale like I’ve been holding my breath. That I need a break from the noise, the champagne-drenched laughter, and the elitist small talk so tedious it could put a hyperactive toddler into a coma.

But Marcus?

Why is still here next to me?

Hands in his pockets, watching the party through the glass doors like he’s wishing someone would give him an excuse to leave entirely.

“But seriously, you can take off, you know.”

His gaze shifts, meeting mine in the dim light. “You’re still here.”

My stomach flips.

I chuff with laughter, “That’s different, I’m Victoria’s support system.”

“And I’m my mother’s.”

I don’t know why, but that lands heavier than it should.

Because it’s true—Elaine Greyson expects him to be here. Representing the future of the family, he’s supposed to enjoy being groomed by his father into just another stuffed shirt.

Marcus has always been the responsible one, while Victoria gets to push boundaries, challenge expectations, and generally cause whatever chaos she pleases.

“You hate these things, don’t you?”

He exhales through his nose, glancing back inside. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“But accurate?”

He’s quiet for a second, then—softer than I expect—he admits, “It’s exhausting.”

That surprises me. Not just because he answered honestly, but because he answered at all.

Marcus Greyson isn’t exactly known for sharing.

But tonight, he’s different.

For the first time, he’s not just standing at a distance, watching with that unreadable expression. He’s engaging with me. Listening. Responding.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

He looks at me for a beat longer, then tilts his head. “So, you guys are graduating soon.”

I pause, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “Yeah. Next month.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t think I’d make it?” I unconsciously add a nervous laugh at the end.

“Didn’t think time would run out so fast.” He immediately closes his mouth, as if hoping to draw the words back in.

Like the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Like it bothers him.

I clear my throat, shifting on my heels. “That’s the plan. Graduate, get a job, and build something that actually matters.”

“What kind of job?”

I pause, surprised that he’s actually interested.

“Well, my degree is in Library and Information Science.”

Curiosity flashes across his face. “So, you’re going to be a librarian?”

“Yes. Well, not just a librarian. I want to design literacy programs—build digital access for kids who don’t have it. Get books and resources to families who need them.”

“That’s a big goal.”

“Those are the only ones worth chasing.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, just slightly. “Victoria would approve.”

I snort. “Victoria thinks she’s the most rebellious, anti-establishment person in the world, but she still has Greyson blood. She thrives in academia because it gives her a platform. You watch, I bet she gets her PhD and becomes a professor. Me? I just want to put books in kids’ hands.”

Marcus is still watching me, like he’s seeing something he never really noticed before.

“What?” I ask slowly, self-conscious under the weight of his gaze.

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “Nothing. I just… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it before.”

I glance down, fingers tightening around my champagne flute. “Most people don’t ask.”

He doesn’t look away.

“I should’ve,” he says.

And that—that right there—knocks the wind out of me.

Marcus Greyson isn’t the kind of man who says things like, I should have.

He isn’t the kind of man who regrets.

The air shifts between us, something tilting, deepening, curling like smoke in my chest.

I should say something. Break the moment. Make a joke.

But then?—

He moves.

Not much, just a brush of his fingers against mine, where my hand rests on the terrace railing.

It’s nothing. A whisper of contact.

But it wrecks me.

I feel the heat of it like a brand, searing through my skin, through every nerve ending I possess.

He doesn’t move away. Neither do I.

I tell myself it’s the champagne, the vibration of music behind the glass doors, the pull of the moment, slow and intoxicating.

And the second his fingers skim mine again—intentionally this time, deliberate and slow—something inside me snaps.