Sage
They say twins are connected. I say they're trouble. Especially when one of them talks you into identity fraud before lunch.
"Rowan, I'm not doing this. No. Absolutely not," I said, already halfway into his stupid gray suit.
My twin groaned from the couch, ice pack on his ankle like it owed him money. "You already have the pants on. You can't back out now."
"You got hit by a truck !" I snapped. "You should be at the hospital, not recruiting your unqualified sister to play corporate dress-up."
"I limped into the apartment. That counts for something."
"Your job interview is in an hour!"
"That's why I need you!" he whined. "Sage, come on. I've worked for this opportunity for months. All you have to do is show up, say smart-sounding things, shake some hands, and get out alive."
"And if they ask me something complicated?" I arched a brow. "Like, I don't know, 'What's your stance on quantum-encrypted server redundancy?'"
He waved a hand. "Just say something vague about data security and ethics. They eat that up."
I gave him a look. "You realize I have no tech background, right?"
"You've fixed my laptop twice."
"By turning it off and on again."
"You're charming. You're quick. And you look like me," he said, pointing between our faces. "You've pulled off worse in college. Remember Halloween?"
"Yeah, and I got chased by three different guys who thought I was a boyband member."
"Exactly! Believable."
I groaned. "This is so illegal."
"Not technically. It's not like you're applying for the job. Just... holding the spot."
"You're such a drama queen."
He smirked. "And you're the best sister ever."
That line did it.
That, and the stupid way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Rowan was always the charming one , the softer twin, the one teachers adored and old ladies gave extra candy. And now, with a busted ankle and crushed pride, he was asking me to step up. For him.
I caved.
"Fine," I muttered. "But if I get arrested, you're coming to jail with me."
—
The suit almost fit. The binder was tight, the boxers were padded, and the wig from last Halloween actually looked better than expected after some dry shampoo and prayer. I added a little contour to dull my cheekbones and some tape on my jawline to square it out.
I stared at my reflection. Rowan, if Rowan had skipped sleep for three days and taken up chain-smoking.
"Hi," I practiced in a lower voice. "I'm Rowan Arden, cybersecurity enthusiast. I love long walks on the cloud and encrypting… uh, feelings."
"God, I'm gonna die."
But I grabbed Rowan's bag and left anyway.
—
The building was a slab of glass and steel in midtown, the kind of place that made you feel like an underachiever the second you walked in.
I stepped through the doors, swallowed by crisp air-conditioning and the scent of expensive furniture.
The receptionist gave me a polite smile. "Name?"
"Sage—" I coughed. "Rowan Arden. Interview at ten."
She typed something on her sleek little keyboard, then nodded. "You're on the list. Have a seat, Mr. Arden. Someone will escort you shortly."
I nodded stiffly and sat down, trying not to squirm.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Just enough time for me to start questioning every life choice that led me here. I had no resume in my name. No clue what this company actually did. And my voice was already starting to crack from all the fake deep talking.
I was about to bolt when a man in a dark suit stepped into the lobby.
"Mr. Arden?"
I stood quickly. "Yes. That's me."
"This way."
He led me to the elevators, silent and intense. He didn't blink once. What was it with corporate security guys and their allergic reaction to blinking?
We rode in silence to the top floor. My heart thumped like a drumline the whole way up.
The elevator doors opened into a hallway so pristine it felt like it had never seen human footprints.
He gestured to a pair of massive glass doors.
"In there," he said.
I nodded, adjusted my tie (which was slowly killing me), and walked through.
—
The office was a minimalist's wet dream. Sleek furniture, dark tones, walls of windows overlooking the skyline. A giant desk sat at the far end, and behind it, a man was scribbling on some document without looking up.
"Mr. Arden," he said, voice cool and crisp like pressed linen.
I took a few steps closer. "Yes. Uh, hi."
He didn't respond. Just finished what he was writing and finally looked up.
And damn.
I wasn't expecting him to be so… sharp. That was the word. Sharp cheekbones. Sharp jawline. Even his suit looked like it had been cut with a scalpel. His hair was dark and neatly styled, and his eyes, gray, stormy, unreadable locked on to mine.
"Sit."
I sat.
He studied me for a moment too long.
"You don't look like I expected."
I laughed nervously. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
"You're softer looking in person."
I resisted the urge to say moisturizer and instead smiled politely. "I'm passionate about what I do. Keeps me young."
He tilted his head slightly. "Passion shows in strange ways."
"Sure does."
His fingers drummed once on the desk. "Tell me, Mr. Arden. Why Vale Technologies?"
I took a breath.
"Well, I've been following the company since it launched its first encrypted cloud product. I think the way you prioritize ethical data storage and privacy shows a lot of… integrity. That's rare."
He raised a brow.
I had no idea what I just said. It sounded good, though.
He didn't reply at first. Just tapped his pen against the desk once. "You speak like someone who isn't afraid of an audience."
I shrugged. "Maybe I should've gone into acting."
"Maybe you already are."
My throat tightened. Was that a joke? Or… a dig?
He leaned back slowly, eyes still fixed on me.
"Interesting," he said finally. "You're not like the others."
I forced a smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"Most applicants come in rehearsed, robotic. You're… odd."
"Again, compliment?"
His mouth twitched. "We'll call it a maybe."
Silence.
He stood then, walking around the desk in slow precise movements like he was sizing me up.
I stood too, instantly regretting it as my bag slipped and nearly took me down with it.
He caught it. Lightning quick. Like, Olympic reflexes quick.
"Careful," he said, handing it back.
"Thanks." My voice cracked. Great. So much for 'confident twin.'
His hand brushed mine.
Cold.
Like, unnaturally cold. But maybe his office was freezing. Maybe rich people liked to keep their thermostat at arctic tundra levels.
He didn't move away immediately. Just stood there, watching me.
"You're hiding something," he said, low.
I blinked. "W-what?"
His head tilted. "Your eyes twitch every time you lie."
"I—I'm not lying."
Now his lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk. "We'll see."
Before I could answer, the door behind us burst open.
"Theo"
The same stone-faced security guy from the elevator stood there. "Sir. We've got an issue on the thirty-second floor. Something with… blood."
Blood?
Both men shared a glance.
"Handle it," the man — Dorian Vale— said calmly.
But he didn't take his eyes off me.
Not even once.
Not when the door slammed shut. Not when the lights flickered once from the hallway. Not when my chest started to tighten from whatever this weird, slow-building tension was.
And especially not when he said, with a voice that made my stomach drop.
"Welcome to Vale Technologies, Mr. Arden. You've just been hired."