Chasing the Wrong Twin Across the Atlantic

The billionaire heir of Manhattan’s most powerful dynasty had been chasing me relentlessly for two years. I still hadn't said yes.

My friends all said I was playing hard to get—that I was dragging out the "chase" for too long.

I looked down from my window at the man leaning against his sleek black Porsche, a cigarette between his lips, looking every bit the cold, untouchable Prince of the Upper East Side.

"...Do you even know I have a twin sister?" I whispered to the empty room. "A sister with my exact face?"

My friend, standing beside me, froze.