Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 10: The Ultimatum
SLOANE
I don’t go to the police station.
I go back to Jade’s.
And I make a decision.
I’m done running.
Done being scared.
Done letting them control the narrative.
If they want to play games, I’ll play too.
But by my rules.
“I need a lawyer,” I tell Jade.
“For what?”
“Divorce. Restraining order. Everything.”
“Do you even know which one you’re divorcing?”
“Both. I’ll file against Ethan for the marriage dissolution. And against Everett for stalking and harassment.”
“That’s… actually smart.”
“I’m also going to demand DNA tests. Court-ordered. For both of them.”
“For what purpose?”
“Paternity.”
She stares at me.
“Sloane… are you…?”
“No. Not yet. But if I was, I’d need to know who the father is. And the threat of that—the possibility—might be enough to make one of them crack.”
“Or it might make them double down.”
“Then I’ll be prepared for that too.”
I find a lawyer who specializes in domestic abuse cases.
Her name is Rebecca Santos.
Forties. Sharp. No-nonsense.
I tell her everything.
She listens without interrupting.
Takes notes.
When I finish, she leans back.
“This is one of the most fucked up cases I’ve ever heard.”
“Can you help me?”
“I can try. But I’ll be honest—this will be difficult to prove in court.”
“I know.”
“However, the fact that they’re both gaslighting you, that there’s a pattern of psychological abuse, that gives us leverage. We can file for divorce on grounds of emotional cruelty. We can get a restraining order based on the stalking behavior and the cameras—even without the physical evidence.”
“Both of them?”
“We’ll name both in the restraining order. Force them to stay away from you. And we’ll demand DNA tests for both.”
“On what grounds?”
“Disputed paternity. Even if you’re not pregnant now, the sexual assault by deception creates ambiguity. A judge will grant it.”
“And if they refuse?”
“Then they’re held in contempt. Which actually helps our case.”
I feel a flicker of hope.
“When do we start?”
“Now. I’ll draft the paperwork today. We’ll file tomorrow.”
That night, I make one more decision.
I’m going back to the house.
One last time.
To pack my things.
To get what’s mine.
And to deliver an ultimatum.
Jade tries to stop me.
“It’s not safe—”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not staying. Just packing.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“Good. I want a witness.”
We arrive at eight PM.
Both cars are in the driveway.
Both twins are home.
Perfect.
I let myself in.
They’re in the living room.
Watching TV like nothing’s wrong.
Like they didn’t just psychologically torture me.
“Sloane,” one of them says, standing. “You’re back.”
“I’m here to pack. That’s all.”
“You don’t have to leave—”
“Yes, I do. Because I can’t live with people I don’t trust.”
The other twin stands.
“We can fix this—”
“No. You can’t. Not anymore.”
I head upstairs.
Jade follows.
So do both twins.
I ignore them.
Go to the bedroom.
Start pulling clothes from the closet.
Throwing them into a suitcase.
“Sloane, please. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“We can go to therapy—”
“Both of you?”
“Yes.”
“Together?”
They exchange a look.
“If that’s what you want.”
I stop packing.
Turn to face them.
“Here’s what I want. I want DNA tests. Court-ordered. For both of you. To prove which one of you slept with me that night.”
“Sloane—”
“I want full access to any and all cameras, recordings, or surveillance equipment in this house. And I want it turned over to the police.”
“There’s no surveillance—”
“I also want both of you to submit to psychological evaluations. Independent evaluations.”
“That’s excessive—”
“And I want a separation. Immediate. Legal. With a restraining order for both of you.”
Silence.
“You can’t get a restraining order against your own husband,” one of them finally says.
“Can’t I? Let’s ask a judge.”
I pull out my phone.
Show them Rebecca’s contact information.
“My lawyer seems to think I can. Especially given the psychological abuse. The gaslighting. The stalking. The sexual assault by deception.”
Both twins go pale.
“We didn’t assault you—”
“Yes, you did. California law is very clear. Sexual assault by deception includes impersonating someone to gain consent. Which is exactly what happened.”
“We could both go to prison for that—”
“Yes. You could.”
They’re scared now.
I can see it in their eyes.
Good.
Let them be scared for once.
“So here’s my ultimatum,” I continue. “You agree to the DNA tests, the therapy, the evaluations, and the separation. Or I file a police report. Tonight. And let the justice system sort it out.”
“You don’t have proof—”
“I have Dr. Chen’s documentation. I have the recording from yesterday—yes, Jade recorded everything. I have the broken cameras I found. I have dates, times, and detailed accounts of every instance of abuse.”
I’m lying about some of it.
But they don’t know that.
“You have twenty-four hours to decide,” I say. “Agree to my terms, or face criminal charges. Your choice.”
I zip up the suitcase.
Grab my toiletries from the bathroom.
My jewelry from the dresser.
Everything that’s mine.
“I’ll be staying with Jade. My lawyer will contact you tomorrow with the paperwork. I suggest you get your own lawyer. You’re going to need one.”
I head for the door.
One of them grabs my arm.
“Sloane, wait—”
I pull free.
“Don’t touch me. Ever again. Either of you.”
“We love you—”
“You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. The possession of me. The power you have over me. But that ends now.”
“We can fix this—”
“No. You can’t. Because I don’t even know which one of you I married. And until I do, until I have proof, legal documentation, DNA evidence—I’m done.”
“What if we prove it? What if we do the tests and therapy and everything you asked?”
“Then maybe—MAYBE—I’ll consider not pressing charges. But I’m still divorcing you. Both of you, legally speaking. Because I don’t know which marriage is real and which is a fraud.”
I look at both of them.
Identical faces.
Identical bodies.
Identical strangers.
“You wanted to be interchangeable,” I say quietly. “Congratulations. You succeeded. But you lost me in the process.”
I leave.
Jade carries the other suitcase.
We load my car in silence.
Both twins watch from the doorway.
Not trying to stop us.
Just watching.
I don’t look back.
Can’t look back.
Because if I do, I’ll second-guess myself.
I’ll wonder if I’m making a mistake.
If maybe I’m wrong.
If maybe I’m the crazy one.
But I’m not.
I know what happened.
I know what they did.
And I’m not backing down.
In the car, Jade asks: “Do you really think they’ll agree?”
“I don’t know. But if they don’t, I’ll follow through with the police report.”
“Even without solid evidence?”
“Even then. Because at least it’ll be on record. A pattern of behavior. And if they do it to someone else—and they will—there’ll be a trail.”
She nods.
We drive in silence.
Back to her apartment.
Back to safety.
My phone rings at midnight.
Unknown number.
I almost don’t answer.
But curiosity wins.
“Hello?”
“We’ll do it.” A male voice. Ethan’s or Everett’s. Impossible to tell.
“Do what?”
“The DNA tests. The therapy. The evaluations. All of it.”
“In writing. Through my lawyer.”
“Fine. We’ll contact her tomorrow.”
“And the cameras? The surveillance equipment?”
Pause.
“We’ll provide everything we have.”
“And you’ll both stay away from me. No contact. No showing up at my work. No nothing.”
“For how long?”
“Until the court says otherwise.”
Another pause.
“Okay. We agree.”
“I need to hear it from both of you.”
Muffled voices in the background.
Then another voice, identical to the first: “We agree.”
I still can’t tell which is which.
“Fine. My lawyer will be in touch.”
I hang up.
Drop the phone.
And burst into tears.
Because even though I won—got them to agree—I still lost.
Lost my marriage.
Lost my trust.
Lost my sense of reality.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get any of it back.
Jade holds me while I cry.
“You did the right thing,” she murmurs.
“Did I?”
“Yes. You stood up for yourself. You demanded the truth. That takes courage.”
“I don’t feel courageous. I feel broken.”
“That’s because they broke you. But you’re putting yourself back together. And that’s brave.”
I want to believe her.
Want to think I’ll heal from this.
But right now, all I feel is empty.
Hollowed out.
A shell of who I used to be.
Before the twins.
Before the gaslighting.
Before I realized the man I married might be a stranger.
I take my medication.
Close my eyes.
And pray that tomorrow brings clarity.
Some kind of answer.
Some kind of truth.
Because I can’t live in this uncertainty anymore.
I need to know:
Which twin is my husband?
Which one violated me?
And which one—if either—actually loves me?
The DNA tests will tell me who was in my bed that night.
But they won’t tell me who I married.
Or who I fell in love with.
Or if any of it was ever real.
Those answers, I’m realizing, might not exist.
And that’s the most terrifying truth of all.
END OF CHAPTER 10 / END OF ACT ONE
Reader Reactions