The Wrong Twin

Larissa never meant for it to be anything more than one night. 

It was the classic story: too much champagne, a glittering New York charity gala, and a charming smile from the man across the room. Except this man was Logan Everhart, billionaire tech CEO and the most eligible bachelor in Manhattan. 

One night. That was it. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Six weeks later, two pink lines changed everything. 

Logan stared at her like she had grown another head. 

“You can’t be serious,” he said, laughing. Then the laugh dropped. “You’re actually serious.” 

Larissa clutched the edge of her coat, her throat dry. She stood in his office, sleek, sterile, cold, and wished she’d worn armor instead of a sundress. 

“I’m not asking for anything, Logan. I just thought you deserved to know.” 

He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “You think I haven’t seen this before? Pretty girls with sob stories. Wanting a piece of the Everhart fortune.” 

Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t come here for money. I came here because it’s yours. Because it’s the right thing to do.” 

“And now you’ve done your duty. So leave.” 

She froze. His words didn’t just sting, they sliced. 

“Get out, Larissa. And don’t come back.” 

She wandered the street outside the Everhart tower for an hour, dazed. 

It started to rain. 

Of course it did. 

She found herself at the nearby park bench, soaked and shivering, clutching her abdomen as if her child could feel her despair. That’s when she heard the voice. 

“Larissa?” 

She looked up. And for a wild moment, thought Logan had followed her. 

But this man wore a leather jacket instead of a suit, had a dimple in his left cheek, and concern rather than suspicion in his eyes. 

“I’m Colton. Logan’s brother. Twin, technically. You okay?” 

She wiped her cheeks. “No. But I will be.” 

He sat beside her. “He was cruel, wasn’t he?” 

She didn’t answer. 

“I saw you leave his office. You looked like you were drowning.” 

“I guess I was hoping he’d be better than that,” she whispered. 

Colton was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “Come with me. You shouldn’t be out here.” 

Colton’s loft was warm. Lived-in. Shelves of books, a guitar in the corner, and photos that didn’t seem staged. 

She clutched the cup of cocoa he gave her like it was life itself. 

“It’s his,” she said after a while, her voice trembling. “The baby. I thought he had the right to know.” 

“And he threw you out.” 

She nodded. 

“Then he doesn’t deserve to be a father to this kid.” 

She glanced at him. “You say that like it’s yours.” 

He looked down. “What if it was?” 

Larissa blinked. “What?” 

He leaned forward. “What if we let the world believe it’s mine?” 

“Colton…” 

“Listen,” he said. “You’re scared. Alone. And Logan won’t step up. But I can.” 

“Why? You don’t even know me.” 

“Because someone has to protect you. And that baby.” 

She stared into his eyes, heart pounding. 

And then she nodded. 

The tabloids went wild. 

COLTON EVERHART EXPECTING FIRST CHILD WITH MYSTERY WOMAN! 

Logan didn’t buy it. 

“This is your idea of revenge? Pretending you’re the father?” he hissed at Colton during a family dinner. 

Colton sipped his wine. “I’m not pretending.” 

“Oh please. She’s a gold digger.” 

Colton stood. “She’s a better person than you’ve ever been.” 

“You don’t even know her!” 

“I know she didn’t deserve to be thrown away like garbage.” 

Larissa left the room before the fight escalated. Her heart was a thunderstorm. 

She was living in Colton’s guest room now. Slowly, he was becoming her safe place. The baby’s too. 

Sometimes she forgot it wasn’t real. 

Sometimes she wished it were. 

The first kick came at week twenty-one. 

They were watching a movie. Her feet were in Colton’s lap. 

“Ow,” she gasped, eyes widening. 

He looked alarmed. “What? What’s wrong?” 

She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly. 

Kick. 

Colton’s face changed. 

“Whoa. That’s… unreal.” 

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I thought I’d be alone for this.” 

He didn’t say anything. He just held her hand until the credits rolled. 

Then came the baby shower. 

Colton hosted it himself. Lavender-themed. Homemade cupcakes. 

His mother hugged Larissa tight. “Thank you for making Colton so happy.” 

She smiled through it all. 

Logan showed up at the end. 

“You’re really running with this, huh?” he said coldly. 

She stiffened. “I don’t need your approval.” 

“I want a paternity test.” 

“Why? You wanted nothing to do with us.” 

“And yet here you are, attached to my family name.” 

Colton stepped in, eyes hard. “You’re not welcome here.” 

Logan’s smile was thin. “This won’t end well.” 

The baby came early. 

Seven weeks too soon. 

Larissa was terrified. Hooked to machines. Nurses running around. 

Colton never left her side. 

He held her hand, whispered strength into her ears, and kissed her forehead just before they wheeled her in. 

Then he waited. 

And prayed. 

Baby girl. 4 lbs 6 oz. 

Named her Emma. 

Tiny. Strong. 

Larissa sobbed when she saw her. 

Colton cried too. 

Three weeks later, Logan showed up at the NICU with papers. 

“Paternity results.” 

Larissa held her daughter tighter. 

Colton took the papers, read them, and looked Logan in the eye. 

“You were right. She’s yours.” 

Silence. 

“So what now?” Larissa asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Logan looked at the child. Then at Larissa. 

“I made a mistake,” he said. 

“Yes. You did.” 

“I want to fix it.” 

Colton stepped between them. “You don’t just get to change your mind.” 

“She deserves to know her father.” 

“She deserves to know love,” Larissa said. “And you’ve never shown her any.” 

Logan hesitated. For once, uncertain. 

“I want to try.” 

Larissa’s heart cracked. She didn’t know what to say. 

Colton said it for her. “We’ll talk. Later.” 

Later came. 

And Logan did try. He attended NICU visits. Brought books. Held Emma like porcelain. 

But Larissa saw the way Emma calmed in Colton’s arms. 

The way her heartbeat synced with his. 

And how Colton looked at her, as if she was his world. 

One night, Larissa found him strumming his guitar. Emma asleep on his chest. 

“You’re the only dad she’s ever known,” she whispered. 

He looked at her. “I know.” 

“I wish…” 

He stood. Walked to her. 

“Wish what?” 

She faltered. Then: 

“That it was always you.” 

He kissed her. Soft. Certain. 

And it felt right. 

Like coming home. 

Emma was ten months old when Logan gave up custody. 

“I’m not the father she needs,” he admitted. “Colton is.” 

He left, a little less arrogant. A little more human. 

Larissa watched him go, hand in Colton’s. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“For what?” 

“For choosing us. Even when it wasn’t your responsibility.” 

He smiled. “It was always my heart’s responsibility.” 

Now, every time Emma giggles in Colton’s arms, Larissa knows: 

DNA means nothing. 

Love makes a father. 

And sometimes, the wrong twin… Becomes the right forever. 

Comment Question:

“Do you think love is stronger when it’s chosen—not expected? Would you have trusted Colton the way Larissa did?”