Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband

WHEN GRAYSON REACHED MAILAH, HE DIDN’T STOP. Didn’t give her space to think or argue. His hand found her jaw, tilting her face up to his, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"What I’m not telling you," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "is none of your concern."

"Everything about this situation is my concern—"

He kissed her. Hard. Cutting off whatever argument was forming.

When he pulled back, her eyes were blazing. "You can’t just—"

He kissed her again. Longer this time. His other hand finding her waist, pulling her against him with enough force that she had to grab his shoulders for balance.

"I can," he said against her mouth. "And I will. Every time you push for information that will only make you reckless."

"That’s not—"

His mouth covered hers again, swallowing the protest. This time when he released her, she looked dazed, her fingers still gripping his shoulders.

"You’re impossible," she breathed.

"Yes." He released her abruptly and moved to the door. "Stay away from the windows. Don’t leave this room. Don’t do anything that requires me to come back here before I’m finished questioning the groundskeeper."

"Where are you going?"

"To make sure he never looks at you again."

He was out the door before she could respond, closing it with controlled precision. Mason was still in the hallway, one eyebrow raised.

"That sounded productive," Mason observed.

"Shut up."

Grayson headed for the stairs, pulling out his phone. Carson answered on the first ring.

"He’s in holding cell three. Lucson’s with him."

"Good. I’ll be there in five minutes. No one else goes in."

"Gray, he’s already told us everything—"

"No. He’s told us what he thinks will keep him alive. There’s more." Grayson took the stairs down to the lower levels where the holding cells were located. "There’s always more."

The holding cells were at the far end of the estate’s underground level—reinforced, warded, designed to hold supernatural entities who needed... containment.

Grayson couldn’t remember if he had used them in the centuries he’d owned this property.

Now Kael occupied cell three, still cuffed but no longer bolted to anything. He could move around the small space. Not that it would help him.

Lucson stood outside the cell, arms crossed. "He’s been cooperative. Answered every question. I don’t think there’s anything else to—"

"Leave us."

Lucson studied Grayson’s face, then nodded slowly. "Don’t kill him. We might need him to testify against Theron if this goes to the Council."

"Noted."

After Lucson left, Grayson stood outside the cell for a long moment, watching Kael through the reinforced glass. The demon was pacing, nervous energy making him jittery.

Grayson opened the door.

Kael immediately backed against the far wall. "I told you everything. I swear. I don’t know anything else—"

"You took her hair." Grayson’s voice was perfectly calm as he closed the door behind him. "From the estate gardens. While she was sitting outside, unaware. Unprotected."

"I didn’t hurt her—"

"You touched her." Grayson moved forward. Not fast. Just inevitable. "Put your hands on her without permission. Without her knowledge."

"It was just hair—"

Grayson’s hand shot out, gripping Kael’s throat and slamming him back against the wall. Hard enough to hurt. Not hard enough to kill.

"Just hair," Grayson repeated, his voice deadly quiet. "Just photographs. Just information. Just three months of stalking. Just helping an ancient demon plan how to torture her to get to me."

Kael’s eyes were bulging, his hands scrabbling at Grayson’s wrist. "Please—I’m sorry—I needed the money—"

"You needed the money." Grayson’s grip tightened fractionally. "Tell me, Kael. What’s your life worth? Because that’s what you gambled when you agreed to watch her. When you documented her routines. When you got close enough to touch her."

He released Kael, who slumped to the floor, coughing.

"I want locations," Grayson said, his tone returning to that emotionless calm. "Every place you met Theron. Every place you delivered reports. Every place he might be hiding now."

"I don’t know where he—"

"Then guess. Because right now, your value to me is directly proportional to how useful you are in finding him." Grayson crouched down, meeting Kael’s eyes. "And your value is diminishing rapidly."

Kael gave him three locations. Two meeting spots and one possible safe house.

It wasn’t enough. But it was something.

When Grayson left the cell thirty minutes later, his knuckles were bruised and Kael was unconscious but alive.

Lucson was waiting in the hallway. "Get what you needed?"

"Locations. Lucson, I want teams on all three. Surveillance first, then tactical assessment. When we find Theron—"

"We’ll need a plan. A real one, not just ’confront the ancient demon and see what happens.’" Lucson fell into step beside him. "Gray, this isn’t just about protecting Mailah anymore. This is about eliminating a threat who knows too much about our operations, our security, our vulnerabilities."

"It’s always been about that."

"Is it?" Lucson stopped at the base of the stairs. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like it’s about protecting one specific human who happens to be living in your bedroom and making you act like—"

"Like what?"

"Like yourself. The version from before the memory loss. The one who cared about something beyond strategy and survival." Lucson’s expression was unreadable. "I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m saying be careful. Theron will use it against you."

"He already is."

"Then make sure she’s worth it."

Grayson’s jaw tightened. "She is."

The admission surprised them both.

Lucson nodded slowly. "Then we make sure he never gets to her. I’ll coordinate the surveillance teams. You should get back upstairs before she decides Mason’s orders are more like suggestions."

Grayson took the stairs back to the west wing, his mind already calculating next moves. Surveillance on the three locations. Enhanced security protocols. Additional wards. Pattern analysis on Theron’s previous attacks.

But underneath all the tactical planning was a single, persistent thought: He touched her.

The groundskeeper. A low-level demon motivated by money and fear. Had gotten close enough to Mailah to steal her hair. Had documented her routines, her vulnerabilities, her life.

For three months.

And Grayson hadn’t known.

When he reached the west wing suite, Mason was gone. A note on the door read: Carson needed backup. She’s secure inside. Try not to break anything expensive.

Grayson pushed the door open.

The room was dark except for the soft glow from the bathroom. He could see Mailah’s silhouette through the open doorway—she was at the sink, washing her face.

He closed the door quietly and moved to the window, checking the grounds one more time. Everything looked secure. Guards at regular intervals. Wards glowing faintly. No movement.

"You’re back," Mailah said from behind him.

He didn’t turn around. "Did you stay away from the windows?"

"Yes. Did you hurt him?"

"Yes."

"Good."

That made him turn. She was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed, her expression difficult to read in the dim light.

"Good?" he repeated.

"He was stalking me for three months. Helping someone plan God knows what. So yes, good. I hope you hurt him a lot." She pushed off from the doorframe. "But that’s not why you’re really angry, is it?"

"I’m not—"

"You are. You’re furious. I can see it in the way you’re standing. The way you’re looking at me right now." She moved closer. "What really aren’t you telling me, Grayson?"

He should lie.

Instead, he found himself pulling out his phone and showing her one of the photographs he’d taken of the apartment wall.

She went very still, staring at the image. At the dozens of photographs of herself, arranged in careful rows. Then she scrolled, seeing more. And more.

"How many?" Her voice was steady, but he could see her hand shaking slightly.

"Hundreds."

She handed the phone back, her expression carefully controlled. "And you weren’t going to tell me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because knowing wouldn’t change anything except make you more afraid."

"I’m already afraid." She looked up at him. "But I’d rather know what I’m dealing with than be protected from information that affects my own life."

"Noted."

"Grayson—"

He pulled her against him, his arms wrapping around her with enough force to lift her slightly off the ground. Not gentle. Not tentative. Just... necessary.

She made a small sound of surprise but didn’t resist. Just let him hold her, her hands eventually coming up to rest against his chest.

"He touched you," Grayson said quietly, his voice muffled against her hair. "Got close enough to take your hair. To photograph you. To document your life like you were a target to be studied and exploited."

"I’m okay—"

"You shouldn’t have to be just okay. You should be safe. You should be able to sit in a garden or go to a café or live your life without someone watching. Documenting. Planning."

Her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him back. "It’s not your fault."

"It is. I should have known. Should have caught it. Should have—"

She pulled back enough to look up at him. "Should have what? Read the mind of every person who works here? Suspected everyone of being a spy? That’s not possible, and you know it."

"I should have protected you better."

"You’re protecting me now."

He looked down at her—small and human and entirely too vulnerable in a world full of ancient demons and supernatural threats. And somewhere along the way, without his memories to warn him, without centuries of careful emotional distance to protect him, she’d become the thing he couldn’t afford to lose.

"I’m going to kill him," he said quietly. "Theron. When I find him, I’m going to kill him for this."

"I know."

"And I’m not going to feel bad about it."

"I wouldn’t expect you to."

They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other in the darkness. Then Mailah shifted, her hands sliding up to his face, pulling him down to her.

The kiss was different from the earlier ones. Slower. Deeper. Less about dominance and more about... something else. Something he didn’t have words for.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Grayson rested his forehead against hers.

"Go to bed," he said roughly.

"Come with me."

"Mailah—"

"I’m not asking for anything except not being alone right now." Her fingers traced his jaw. "Please."

He should refuse. Should maintain the distance. Should sleep on the couch like he’d planned.

Instead, he found himself nodding.